Veggie Gumbo—lucky? For sure, tasty

Who says dining for luck has to be reserved for celebrating the new year? How about for celebrating a new month? As February kicked off, we decided to try this Lucky Veggie Gumbo. Those reportedly lucky black-eyed peas were, of course, present—mingled with diced tomatoes, green chilies, brown rice, okra, and other veggies and seasonings.

This can be served as a main course, although we also enjoyed it as a side for meat loaf one day and baked chicken the next. In this dish, the okra addition was of the frozen variety, but yesterday’s springlike temps in our area remind us that gardening days (and the promise of our own okra growing outside) are just down the road.

Lucky Veggie Gumbo

1/2 tablespoons olive oil

1/2 cup chopped onion

1/2 cup green bell pepper, chopped

1/2 cup chopped celery

1 1/2 cups vegetable broth, fat-free (I subbed lower-sodium chicken broth)

2 cups cooked brown rice

2 cans black-eyed peas, drained and rinsed

2 garlic cloves, minced

1 (14.5-ounce) can diced tomatoes, drained and rinsed

1 (4-ounce) can green chilies, drained and rinsed

1/2 cup frozen okra

1/2 teaspoon paprika

1/4 teaspoons cayenne

3/4 teaspoon cumin

 1 teaspoon lemon juice

Heat olive oil in a large saucepan over medium heat. Cook the onion, pepper, and celery until they are tender. Pour in the vegetable broth, rice, black-eyed peas, garlic, diced tomatoes, green chilies, and okra. Bring to a boil; reduce heat to low. Simmer until desired thickness is reached. Add spices and lemon juice. If mixture is too thick, gradually add water. Makes 6 1-cup servings. (Source: Chickasaw Nation Nutrition Services)

Tomato-and-Okra Cornmeal Cakes are prizes for being sneaky

Every morning we square off against the birds in our pursuit of vine-ripened tomatoes from our garden. Huge black birds watch those vines scrupulously. Let one green tomato get the slightest hint of a blush on it, and the birds swoop in for a tasty treat. 

I had to be sneaky, but by looking carefully near the ground, where they weren’t so obvious to the hungry winged creatures, I rescued about 1 pound of small, slightly pinkish tomatoes so I could make this divine recipe. I lined my finds up on my window ledge until they ripened to a pretty red in color.

Tomato-and-Okra Cornmeal Cakes were just as cute as they could be and so imaginative. They might have been designed to be appetizers, but Hubby and I made full meals out of then for several evenings in a row. 

Besides the okra I tossed in some chopped yellow squash for the cornmeal patty. Pimiento cheese is my middle name, so turning up a cheese spread for the second layer wasn’t tough at all. (The source of this recipe says that in this step, you also can use whipped cream cheese or goat cheese.) On top went the rescued tomatoes, which were just gorgeous all sliced up. Fresh basil from my herb patch crowned it all.

Big black birds, you lose! Hubby and I win big; this was a great dish! 

Tomato-and-Okra Cornmeal Cakes

2 cups plain yellow cornmeal

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon fine sea salt

1 large egg (or 1/4 cup egg substitute)

1/2 cup water

1 garlic clove

1/2 pound fresh okra, thinly sliced

1 jalapeno pepper, seeded and finely chopped

1/4 cup canola oil

kosher salt (or salt substitute)

arugula

1 pound small tomatoes, cut into 1/4-inch-thick slices

fresh basil leaves

pimiento cheese spread of your choice

In a large bowl whisk together first 3 ingredients. Whisk together egg and 1/2 cup water; add to cornmeal mixture. Whisk until smooth. Smash garlic to make a paste. Stir okra, jalapeno, and garlic paste into cornmeal mixture. (Batter will be thick and will thicken even more as it sits, so add water, if needed.) In a large cast-iron skillet over medium heat, heat 1 tablespoon oil. Into skillet pour 1 tablespoon batter for each cake; gently flatten the batter into a 2-inch cake. (Don’t overcrowd the cakes in the skillet.) Cook 2 to 3 minutes or until tops are covered with bubbles. Turn and cook 2 to 3 more minutes. Transfer cakes to a paper-towel-lined plate. Season with kosher salt and pepper. Keep cakes warm in a 200-degree oven. Repeat procedure with remaining batter and oil. Spread each cake with about 1 teaspoon pimiento cheese. Top with arugula, tomato, basil, kosher salt, and pepper. Makes 16 appetizer servings. (Source: Southern Living July 2012)

Summer and Southern blend in this okra-cheese grits recipe

When I saw the recipe, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Two of my favorite food items in all the world—cheese grits and okra—pulled together in one combo casserole. This must be my week for perfect pairings. Yesterday’s blog was about the dynamite combination of pears and apples in the most delectable pie ever. Now today I’m extolling okra with cheese grits. With all these dynamic duos, you’d think we were celebrating Valentine’s Day.

The only problem for baking this wonderful dish that I found described on www.myrecipes.com was my okra supply. Baby okra abound—we’ll have a bumper crop in a few days—but we’re waiting for the next wave. I did manage to scrape together enough mature okra for 6 small fresh okra pods called for in this casserole, but I could have added twice that amount and felt even more indulged.

The original recipe on myrecipes.com (originally from Southern Living October 1999) was called Baked Polenta with Cheese and Okra—polenta being just another name for something made from boiled cornmeal. We speak grits around here, so I subbed a name that described the casserole’s ingredients.

I can’t describe what a big hit this made around my house. Grown daughter happened in for a visit. When I suggest she sample something I’ve just made for a blog, I always can see trepidation in her eyes. Another weird veggie combination? I can read in her thoughts. But when the words cheese grits and okra emerge from my mouth, she’s a willing volunteer.

This basically involves cooking quick grits on the stovetop, stirring in okra, cheese, butter, and egg, and then baking in a casserole for 55 to 60 minutes. Adding the okra keeps the casserole from being boring and works a very Southern veggie into a very Southern dish.

Baked Cheese Grits and Okra Casserole

4 cups water, divided

6 small fresh okra pods

1 cup uncooked quick-cooking grits

1/2 teaspoon salt (or salt substitute)

2 large eggs, lightly beaten (or 1/2 cup egg substitute)

1/4 cup butter, cut into pieces

8 ounces shredded Cheddar cheese (or 1 8-ounce block sharp Cheddar, cubed)

In a large saucepan over medium heat bring 2 cups water to a boil; add okra and cook 10 minutes. With a slotted spoon remove okra. Reserve liquid in pan. Cool okra slightly and coarsely chop. Add remaining 2 cups water to reserved liquid; bring to a boil. Gradually stir in grits and salt; return to a boil. Cover, reduce heat, and simmer 5 to 7 minutes. Gradually whisk about one-fourth of the grits into eggs; add this to remaining hot mixture. Whisk constantly. Whisk in butter. Stir in okra and cheese. Spoon into slightly greased 11-by-7-inch baking dish. Bake at 350 degrees for 55 to 60 minutes or until set. Makes 8 servings.

Awesome veggie dish worth a sweaty, sticky garden trip to procure okra

I never thought I’d see the day: me—Kay—racing outdoors, snippers in hand, to stand in the punishing sun and prowl around among the sticky-leaved okra plants—hoping against hope that enough baby okra had matured overnight so I could clip a few morsels for a dinner entrée. Normally the bane of any gardener’s existence this time of year (too much okra—more than anyone knows what to do with), I’m on the opposite end of the spectrum: too many good okra recipes and okra not surfacing quickly enough to get them all prepared.

The enticing recipe this time was a recipe called Okra-and-Corn Maque Choux. That one sent me scurrying to do a little research. The dish sounded divine, but what was a Maque Choux? Had I spelled it wrong? Good ole Wikipedia told me it was a traditional southern Louisiana dish—the name pronounced to sound like the words “mock shoe”. Actually it’s a combination of cajun and American Indian cultural influence (I suspected some Native American might be lurking in there somewhere, since it bore such an unusual mixture of veggies).

Wikipedia states that besides the ingredients in this recipe, some Maque Choux combos include celery; others add a bit of sugar and a dash of hot sauce (I actually added a few hot sauce dots myself); others, instead of sausage, will contain bite-sized portions of chicken or crawfish or even will have shrimp dumped in at the final stage. Interesting ways to try it another time, but for this first adventure I stuck with the Okra-and-Corn Maque Choux recipe I found on www.myrecipes.com.

All I can say is, this divine ole Mock Shoe was worth sweating in the okra patch with its resultant stickiness to bring in enough baby okra for this delicious recipe. The turkey sausage gave it just that added touch. We wolfed it down quickly and were wanting more. From the looks of the baby okra still to be harvested outdoors, we should have plenty of opportunity.

Okra-and-Corn Maque Choux

1/4 pound turkey sausage, diced

1/2 cup chopped onion

1/2 cup chopped green bell pepper

1/2 teaspoon garlic powder

3 cups fresh corn kernels, removed from cob

1 cup sliced fresh okra

1 cup peeled, seeded, and dice tomato

salt (or salt substitute) and black pepper to taste

Sauté sausage in a large skillet over medium-high heat for 3 minutes or until browned. Add onion, bell pepper, and garlic and sauté for 5 minutes or until tender. Add corn, okra, and tomato; cook, stirring often, 10 minutes. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

The Dog- (aka okra-pickin'-every-day) days of summer are here again

The hot, sticky, okra-pickin'-every-day, dog days of summer clearly are at hand.

In a predictable ritual now, each late afternoon Hubby exits carrying his paring knife, gloves, and plastic bag and heads to the garden to see what's ready on the okra rows.

To be usable for cooking at all, new okra pods must be removed quickly from the plant. Let them stay a day too long, and they're tough as leather; the knife can hardly hack its way through the pod to slice the okra to prepare for a meal. (When this happens, hubby throws the hardened okra on the ground, knowing the pod will leave seeds for the next year's garden.)

At this point many gardeners let their okra go to seed or chop down the mighty plants that by now are as tall as a person. Okra-pickin', at this stage, is not necessarily a joyful task. Sweltering days combined with the itchy okra leaves can make for some unpleasantness. Many okra-pickers find they must wear long-sleeves to avoid succumbing to the itchiness. Interestingly, cutting the okra is like deadheading a rose or a geranium--removing the new pods simply makes more grow in their place.

But I have far too many favorite as well as untried okra recipes remaining in my file to turn my back on this harvest. (As I mentioned in an earlier blog, on years that we don't grow okra, we always regret the lack thereof.)

Plus in my refrigerator I had some ears of fresh corn that needed to be used up in a recipe. Hubby's most recent trek to the garden gave me reason to prepare Okra Creole, a divine veggie combination (okra, corn, tomatoes, onion, green peppers) that holds a place of honor in my new cookbook, Way Back in the Country Garden. (In the Vegetable Side section of the cookbook it is the first one listed.)

Hubby and I used it to top some leftover pasta we had in the refrigerator. The next night (we loved it so much, we prepared it two nights in a row--with fresh okra each night) we served it over crumbled (low-sodium) tortilla chips. For tonight's leftovers we may serve it over brown rice, but it's wonderful on its own without using it as any kind of extras.

With more dog/okra days undoubtedly ahead, many more trips to the okra "grove" undoubtedly are in Hubby's future.

Okra Creole

3 or 4 slices bacon (I use turkey bacon)

1/2 cup chopped onion

1 green pepper, chopped

3 tablespoons bacon drippings (I use 3 tablespoons olive oil)

18 okra pods, sliced

2 fresh tomatoes, sliced, or 1 cup canned tomatoes, undrained (if canned, I use the no-salt-added variety)

1 cup fresh corn

1/2 teaspoon salt (I use salt substitute)

1/2 teaspoon cajun seasoning (I use salt-free, such as Mrs. Dash)

In large skillet fry 3 or 4 slice bacon. Reserve 3 tablespoons bacon drippings and let it remain in skillet. Crumble bacon. In skillet saute onion and pepper. Return crumbled bacon to skillet. Add sliced okra pods, tomatoes, corn, and seasonings. Simmer covered for 15 minutes.

To avoid the drab, even farmwives of yesteryear needed help with recipe inspiration

What do I do with all this stuff?

You've had an exhilarating day at the farmer's market and returned with a backseat-load of produce--colorful, healthy, and diverse.

Or, your trip to your garden plot has yielded a potpourri basketful of bits and pieces--some random okra, a few corn ears, a handful of tomatoes, an onion here and there--not enough to stock a cellar with canned goods but never-so-fresh-as-now and calling to be prepared and eaten.

What to do? Where do you go for inspiration?

Farmwives of the past, believe it or not, faced the same dilemma.

We tend to regard women of bygone days--when gardens were a necessity and when frugal food preparation meant the difference between survival and starvation for some families--as born wise in the "how-to" department. We tend to think of granny ladies of that era as people who hatched out mature and well-versed in automatically knowing how to use their garden produce.

Enter our Aunt Frances and her first job out of high school.

As a young woman entering the work world in Delta County, TX, Aunt Frances was hired by the county extension agent as an office helper. Her job was to type the recipes that the agent then carried to rural homes throughout the region. The recipes were welcome helps to farmwives who were stumped about how to use their garden pickin's so they didn't have to fix the "same-old, same-old" for supper. (An entire chapter, "Downtown", is devoted to this in my new cookbook, Way Back in the Country Garden.)

An example of the kind of recipes Aunt Frances would type--and also tuck away for the eventual day she, as a married lady, would be queen of her own kitchen--is today's feature: Sauteed Okra, Corn, and Tomatoes. A few evenings ago, when we brought in just "a bit of this and a bit of that" from our garden, this dish was a perfect medley. As I mentioned in my blog post, "Fresh vegetables unadorned make for some delightful seasoned greetings", Hubby and I always are incredulous how the fresh vegetables season themselves--with only limited salt and pepper recommended to be added--yet how immensely flavorful!

What the county extension office did in Aunt Frances' day is the same kind of help the Chickasaw Nation Nutrition Services office provides today to help Chickasaws learn to cook more healthily and to use homegrown produce. My hubby and I stand amazed each time we visit our closest Chickasaw offices in Ardmore, OK. The nutrition-services building has free recipe cards on display in its entry. Live food demos are scheduled several times a day; they feature test kitchen and personnel to show how recipes on the freebie cards are prepared.

(Of course in today's Internet age, merely "Googling" the names of ingredients you have also can turn up a wealth of ideas as well.)

Hubby and I enjoyed our Sauteed Okra, Corn, and Tomatoes for dinner alongside Sauteed Zucchini and Fettuccini (featured in Wednesday's blog). The fact that we had this okra medley recipe in our collection (thanks to Aunt Frances, who by the way died a year ago at age 102) made us really happy that those farmwives of yesteryear needed a little help now and then!

Sauteed Okra, Corn, and Tomatoes

2 pounds fresh okra, with stems and tips removed

3 pounds tomatoes, skinned and seeded

8 ears fresh corn

2 tablespoons butter

2 tablespoons oil

4 cups onions, coarsely chopped

1 tablespoon salt (we used salt substitute)

freshly ground pepper

Cut okra into 1/4-inch rounds; discard tops. This should make about 6 cups of okra. Put tomatoes in stainless or enameled pan and cook slowly for about half an hour. Do not scorch. Drain any liquid. This should make about 2 cups of tomatoes. Use sharp knife to cut corn from cob. In a skillet heat butter and oil. Add okra and onions. Cook until onions are wilted and okra has begun to brown at edges, about 10-15 minutes. Turn often; add reduced tomatoes and salt; cook 5 minutes. Add corn and cook 3-4 more minutes. Add salt and pepper; season to taste.

Looks like a summer of "love" for that slimy, Southern vegetable

Okra is one of those garden-yield items that inspires a loathe/love relationship.

To begin with, it doesn't yield itself up easily. Unlike tomatoes, cucumbers, or peaches that you simply gently pluck from the stalk with a slight flick of the wrist, okra must be cut (read that "sawed") away with a knife, which means that the picker must arrive at the garden "armed" if okra is desired.

The okra leaves are itchy, so hot summer days (the only time okra presents itself to be picked) make communing with the okra plant an often-unpleasant experience. Even when you wear gloves, you can hardly wait to get inside to wash off your arms.

Then, this stereotypically Southern plant, putting it bluntly, is gooey and slimy when it's first sliced. Many people don't get beyond that fact. Slimy okra gumbo is one recipe option when okra is an ingredient. It's not the only option by any means, but the slithery texture makes a permanent impression on those already suspicious of this vegetable. I love what Wikipedia says about okra: some cooks prefer to "minimize" its characteristic "sliminess."

On the "love" side, if properly prepared, okra wins kids' kudos early on. Both my children always selected fried okra, with an inch of crispy breading, of course, above just about anything else for their "sides"--one way to get veggies down the younger set, even if it is fried in an inch of grease.

Our last "love" okra crop was in the summer of 2005. I acquired more okra recipes than I have hairs on my head (definitely more recipes than the hairs on my hubby's head.) My recipe for Grandma's Fried Okra, which hubby found on the Internet but said it was a replica of his mother's, was added to my collection that summer.

The year 2005 started off good, but soon we had so much okra growing, we couldn't cut it fast enough. Then when we cut it, we couldn't eat it fast enough or even give it away to friends and neighbors. One neighbor, rather impolitely, asked us not to offer any "more" since he was overwhelmed with our generosity. The uncut okra then went to seed and continued to produce more plants; six-foot-tall vines soon took over.

My husband refused to plant any okra in the summer of 2006 and even pulled up stalks that rose from seeds left over from the previous year.

Summer of 2007 was Texas' memorable monsoon year. All crops washed out, including our prize peach trees (more about that in my next blog). The following summer we didn't even try, because our soil was leached out so badly from the '07 floods. Last year we planted okra, but none grew. By then we were regretting not having okra around. We vowed that 2010 would be "the" year again.

If our first "picking" is any indication, this year, indeed, okra is our new best friend. Last night's meal featuring Grandma's Fried Okra, which also uses potatoes, green peppers and onions, was memorable indeed. After that I've got recipes for Sauteed Okra, Corn, and Tomatoes and Okra Creole, both from my new Way Back in the Country Garden cookbook, waiting in the wings.

The ubiquitous challenge: picking ("sawing") and using it the minute it becomes ripe, which means frequent trips to that sticky corner of the garden. The payoff: falling in "love" with okra all over again.

Grandma's Fried Okra

Okra (about 20 pods)

3 medium potatoes (could be mix of redskin and Irish potatoes)

cornmeal

1 teaspoon salt

black pepper

1/2 cup chopped green peppers

1/4 cup olive oil

Slice okra into 1-inch rounds. Chop potatoes into small cubes. Chop onions and green peppers until fine. Dust okra in corn meal. In skillet fry okra in hot olive oil until okra is brown. Add potatoes, onions, and green pepper. Cook until vegetables are tender. (May need to cover skillet with lid until vegetables cook.) Remove lid. Add salt and pepper to taste. Cook with lid removed until vegetables crispen up.

Fresh vegetables unadorned make for some delightful seasoned greetings

“This is gonna be a loser.”

My hubby muttered this statement out loud as I placed in front of him a small pile of fresh veggies for him to cut up. I had just returned from my two-mile fitness run for the day and was ready to step into the shower. While I cleaned up, he graciously agreed to get dinner started by chopping the veggies.

I could tell, however, that Hubby was dubious about the recipe for "Okra Stir-Fry Medley" that I had spotted to use some of the other yield of our trip to the Chickasaw farmers markets last week in Oklahoma. (I mentioned this in my blog two days ago.) "It doesn't even call for any seasoning," he grunted as he studied the page in front of him.

Ever the lover of black pepper and more black pepper, I thrust a shaker under his nose and gave him my permission to pour away. He was correct, though. My "Okra Stir-Fry Medley" recipe didn't even as much as hint of adding salt--or salt substitute, as would be applicable in our case. Would this menu item have any taste to it at all?

We reassured ourselves that we hadn't had a flop yet from the recipe book "Celebrating a Healthy Harvest" (source for "Okra Stir-Fry Medley") the Chickasaw Nutrition Services gives people to help them make creative, healthy dishes out of the fresh produce, so I left the recipe in my hubby's capable hands while I undertook my post-run shower.

Fifteen minutes later Mr. Ray of Sunshine, who had been glum about the potential of this side dish, was beginning to sing a different tune. “Look how fresh and colorful,” he commented as he stir-fried the squash, okra, onion, and corn, with tomatoes to be added at the end.

He was right. The bland-looking veggies had seemed to explode with color once they were stirred around in the skillet with a touch of olive oil added. The same thing had happened the previous evening when we stir-fried some anemic-looking green beans to go in our Japanese Green Beans recipe. Beans I wouldn't have given you a plug nickel for amazingly turned bright green as they were zapped around the skillet over moderate heat.

We dished some up on our plates to go along with our casserole left over from last evening's meal. In a few bites Hubby was exultant. "I can't believe it; this seasoned itself,” he assessed.

Many times we think we have to camouflage sides with high-calorie, high-fat-content breading or sauce, when the freshness of the unadorned veggies themselves provides the most delightful taste imaginable.

Meanwhile, the fiber in the corn wiped out my husband's other reason for being skeptical--that he would leave the dinner table hungry after this bantamweight side dish. Fiber fills you up, so you don't have to eat as much to feel full afterward.

The Chickasaw Nutrition Services, which provided the recipe for "Okra Stir-Fry Medley" (below), won our admiration again. And just as he drifted off to sleep last night, my husband was still extolling, "I can't believe what a tasty recipe that was--all by itself". Seasoned greetings!

Okra Stir-Fry Medley

1 tablespoon olive oil

1/2 onion, chopped

2 ears of corn, cut from the cob

3 yellow squash, sliced

10 okra, sliced

1 diced tomato

Place olive oil in skillet. Add onion, corn, squash and okra. Cook over medium heat for 5-10 minutes or until vegetables are tender. Add diced tomato; continue cooking for 3 minutes. Serve. Makes six side-dish servings.