Fresh Figs with Feta and Black Pepper Honey Recipe

The figs have arrived! The figs have arrived! This is my sentiment when our little tree that we planted a mere 3 years ago actually produced and the tree rats didn't get to them first. Can you tell I am just a wee bit excited?

A few days ago, I climbed up under our baby fig tree and harvested these buggers with abandon, glancing behind me from time to time to make sure the squirrels weren't stalking me (and I know they were, because I could feel their furry, flea-bitten presence) and I picked my little figgies in a state of pure bliss. It was a beautiful thing, and a true first around here because we get nothing, I tell you-- no plums from the 50 year old plum tree, nary a strawberry from the garden, and this year, yard critters ate off all of our zucchini flowers and all of our Meyer lemon tree flowers, so zilcho is coming from either of those. I'm getting a BB gun and a wrist rocket, I tell you, and I'm going to park my butt on the roof and start firing away at will. Heck, even this guy can't help me, and knocking off squirrels is ingrained into his genetic code.

Hankdog gets dirty, a lot.

Much of our fig explosion I can thank our neighbors for, since they have the biggest, most immense fig tree I have ever seen. It literally towers over their house, and there's no question it was planted when the house was built over 50 years ago, and this thing is LOADED with huge, gorgeous figs that said neighbors never touch. We would ask them if we could harvest a handful or two, but they're not really around too often and, while they seem like nice people, we don't really have much interaction other than the distant neighbor wave (ya'll know what I'm talking about). Ravaging their tree late night was a consideration until they adopted a very yard protective pit bull, and while I love me some figs, I don't need to lose a leg over a tarte tatin.

Fresh figs over vanilla yogurt. Simple. Perfection.

So there the neighbor's fig tree sits filled with birds, squirrels and crows who spend a full month enjoying a high fiber snack party of epic proportions while we helplessly watch in horror and disbelief. Yet, how does this benefit me, you ask? It goes like this: when the squirrels and birds have 10,000 bigger, juicier, seemingly unending figs to eat, they leave our tree alone. Survival of the fittest in its purest form, at least for those of us who actually like to eat figs. Their tree gets uselessly pilfered while our tree rises to its fruity purpose by being turned into sugary desserts, honey-laden little bites, and savory entrees, and somewhere amidst this summery goodness Darwin is smiling and probably getting hungry.

Slow cooker pork roast with figs, balsamic, vanilla, rosemary jam and onions.

Heck, I even developed a pork recipe for The Southern Slow Cooker cookbook that I'm in the process of writing for publication next summer (behold the shameless plug). In addition, I whipped up a super easy appetizer modeled after this cool recipe I found from Bon Appetit. Since I didn't have goat cheese on hand, only feta, I subbed that and it was killer.

Fresh Figs with Feta and Black Pepper Honey

*Barely adapted from Bon Appetit* Remember food bloggers, changing one ingredient does NOT make your recipe original. Always link to the original and offer full credit or get written permission if that's the site's policy. Recipe thieves make me mad.

12-14 fresh figs (I used brown turkey figs) cut into quarters, but not through the bottom (see above photo)
1/4 cup wildflower honey (tastes best)
Lots and lots of freshly ground pepper

Nice chunk of good Greek or Bulgarian feta, drained well

Place split-open figs on a serving plate. In a small saucepan add the honey and a good amount of black pepper, to taste. Bring up to medium-low and let simmer for a couple of minutes. Stuff each fig with a chunk of feta and drizzle the honey over the figs and onto the plate (it's pretty!).

Serve with a dry rosé like Barboursville Vintage Rosé which was the perfect pairing for the slightly salty cheese, sweet figs and spicy pepper.

©2012 Fatback and Foie Gras. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed without permission.

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Beans and Cornbread Recipe

PLUS

EQUALS

Get the recipe....

©2012 Fatback and Foie Gras. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed without permission.

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3 Things You Should Never Do on Television

So, I just finished shooting my 9th episode of "The Heart of the Home" for the Virginia Farm Bureau's award-winning monthly television show "Real Virginia". Seriously, I cannot believe we already bagged nine episodes this year. It's been tough but rewarding work, and it's definitely been a learning curve for this novice cooking show host, so I thought in good fun I would share a little advice for any of you hoping to break into the wild, wonderful world of televised cooking. Here are 3 things you should never do when making food on TV:

1. Do not touch your face, especially your nose. Ok, I got allergies, so it's not my fault, but sometimes I get a hankering to wipe my nose. Who doesn't? Theoretically, dotting your nose with a handkerchief or a tissue is a normal occurrence UNTIL YOU DO IT ON CAMERA WHEN MAKING FOOD. Then, it's just plain gross, and in addition to advertising to the world that you've got a deviated septum, you've now contaminated everything on the table. Take a Claritin.

2. Do not leave your mike on when using the ladies room. You don't want to drop this pricey item in the toilet, so it should not be on your body to begin with, but if you do happen to leave it on when hitting the loo (not that I did this or anything) make sure it is turned off, because you definitely don't want your visit recorded.

3. Do not drink 2 double espressos just before shooting. Initially, I thought shooting back to two giant espressos before my first shoot was a good idea. Coffee is good for the brain, makes one sharper and even increases memory. What better way to ensure my pithy snippets (as I deftly chop up an onion) are both hilarious and entertaining? Plus, overly-ebullient enthusiasm apparently gets you multiple Food Network shows as evidenced here:

From Food Network Humor

Sadly, after that first coffee-infused shoot, I can say with certainty that the Food Network ain't gonna be a callin' since, instead of engaging my viewers with a bounty culinary wit and wisdom, my performance ended up more like this:

I guess it's best to keep those cups of coffee (or in the case with this kiddo those buckets of pixie sticks) to a minimum.

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Kitchen Sink Tomato Sandwich Recipe

Virginia grown tomatoes are finally in, and even with the threat of a nation-wide drought that is sadly affecting crop production for many farmers across the country, Virginia tomatoes have managed to survive, and man, are they good this year. My father-in-law who lives in Nelson County, Virginia stopped by yesterday with a big bag of tomatoes and corn. Oh happy day! These local vegetables came from Stuart's Draft, Virginia and were grown by Dave and Miriam Miller, proprietors of a true gem of a spot, Miller's Bake Shoppe, a Mennonite Bakery located about two hours from Richmond that's totally worth the drive. For starters, you haven't lived until you've eaten this carrot cake....

But wait, there's more, like old fashioned molasses crinkle cookies, fresh blackberry pie, mincemeat pie, Hummingbird cake, homemade soft pretzels, whoopie pies, even salt rising bread. The list literally goes on and on, and everything this family run business creates is made from scratch with all natural ingredients (no preservatives) and is out of this world good.

This morning we dove into the cinnamon buns. Drizzly decadence indeed, and totally worth the extra love handle.

But, back to those tomatoes. I can think of no better way to eat these sweet, drippy Virginia gems than to sprinkle thick, juicy slices with a little sea salt and some coarsely ground black pepper (that is, unless you add in a couple of slices of soft white bread and a generous slathering of mayonnaise).

Behold the Kitchen Sink Tomato Sandwich (as originally penned by Ernie Mickler in his cookbook, "White Trash Cooking" I'm on board with all parts of this recipe, minus the Miracle Whip (too tangy for me) and my mayonnaise has got to be Duke's.

Kitchen Sink Tomato Sandwich 

From "White Trash Cooking" by Ernest Matthew Mickler (Ten Speed Press, 1986).

2 very large fresh picked vine ripened tomatoes
2 slices of bread
Salt and pepper, to taste
Mayonnaise or Miracle Whip

In the peak of the tomato season, chill 1 very large or 2 medium tomatoes that have been vine-ripened and have a good acidity taste.

Take 2 slices of bread. Coat them with 1/4 inch of good mayonnaise. On one piece of bread, slice the tomato 1/4 inch thick. Salt and pepper that layer.

Add another layer of sliced tomato, and again salt and pepper. Place the other piece of bread on top of this.

Roll up your sleeves, and commence to eat over the kitchen sink while the juice runs down your elbows.

So, how do you like to enjoy your summer tomatoes?

©2012 Fatback and Foie Gras. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed without permission.

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What You Don't Know About Writing a Cookbook

Life as a recipe writer/tester is good when things work out.

So I'm officially in the thick of it, brainstorming, writing, shopping for ingredients, testing, tasting, re-writing, shopping for ingredients, re-testing, tasting, cleaning, bleaching and cleaning some more.

Such is the glamorous life of writing a cookbook. Don't get me wrong, I am utterly thrilled to death to have this opportunity, and every day I've got my eyes on the prize for when that first box of copies arrives on my doorstep, but the fact is, the means to the end involves some seriously hard work.

For starters, I haven't had a day off in at least 3 weeks (maybe more, but who is counting), and it looks like there ain't one coming anytime soon. I've got a fast deadline looming that often gives me panic attacks, most of the time at the oh-so convenient hour of 3am, which in turn, makes me a ball of fun when I have to get up at 7am. to start food prep.

Since I'm writing a slow cooker cookbook (emphasis on sloooowwww), the majority of the recipes I'm testing require 8+ hours of cooking time with some recipes topping out at 10-12 hours, which means there are some days where my work day starts at 8am and finishes at 11pm+. In effect, I've become a slave to my hot-ass kitchen, I've one nasty case of cabin fever, and I'm starting to get really cranky.

Now that I've aired that laundry list of whiny complaints, let me give you something practical to chew on, a little window into the financial world of what it's like to write a cookbook.

Recipe testing is an arduous and often expensive process: While some cookbook authors have an army of recipe writers, testers, kitchen assistants, personal shoppers, even ghostwriters to pen their books, the rest of us are left with a cutting board, a knife, pens and paper, and a long day ahead, and I personally wouldn't have it any other way. I'm far to anal to put my work in the hands of someone else, and frankly, sometimes it's easier to fly solo. While I do have several fine volunteer recipe testers lined up to help me (mostly friends and family), this will only happen after I have tested them at least twice and butchered them all to hell (please reference the above photo). This process not only includes conceptualizing, writing, testing, and re-testing, but sometimes even total failure with a complete do-over.

It also involves assembling grocery lists, shopping, shopping some more, and then shopping some more. I know my grocery store produce guys, my butchers and my check-out gals, and I figure they're wondering why I'm there all the time.

What many people may not realize is that all of these trips to the grocery store I pay for myself and they can get seriously expensive after weekly visits for months on end. But you got a big advance, so what's the problem, you ask? I did get an advance, but it wasn't "big" or anywhere on par with a Rachael Ray six-plus figure deal. It was average, and on par with what other cookbook authors who aren't celebs tend to make, and while I am thankful for the cushion, I will also need every penny of it. 

For starters, I paid a literary lawyer to help me negotiate the contract (I don't have an agent which can be another 15% deducted out of both your advance and your royalties). I am also paying for the book's photography (a biggie, but worth it because I know it will be stellar). I'm even paying for the indexing of the recipes (which takes a professional's eye so that was a necessity).

None of these extra costs are news to seasoned cookbook authors. This is how it's done now, and when one signs on to write a book, it's expected, but throw in food costs for testing some hundreds of recipes, paying the I.R.S., kitchen equipment costs, even basic necessities that get used up on a regular basis like trash bags, kitchen cleaning materials, kitchen tools etc...when the smoke clears, often an author ain't left with much. Toss in the fact that when she is on a super tight deadline, she won't have any time to take on any other jobs, so this cashola up front has got to last. To get a good idea of what I'm talking about, check out this article by veteran cookbook author David Lebovitz (specifically reference section 6 to see what I mean).

At the same time, writing a cookbook can be a beautiful thing. I've got dinners in the freezer to last the rest of the year, and my husband, parents and neighbors eat like kings. They get overly caloric, bacon-laden goodies like this on a regular basis:

They even get leftovers that can be made into yummy sandwiches.

So all is certainly not lost, not even close. I am loving every second of sweating in the kitchen and plopping my butt in front of the computer to conceive something new and exciting. In fact, I haven't felt this happy in a long time, and in the end that's what it's all about. I'm doing what I love, living the dream. I won't be getting rich and I'm okay with that. This is not why I'm here, and I figure thousands of hard working chefs, food writers, bloggers and various creatives know exactly what I'm talking about.

In the meantime, I shall keep on keeping on and you should too. If you dream of writing a cookbook one day, don't let this information discourage you, but do know it's not all hearts and flowers. If you're okay with that and still want in, write a book proposal, get an agent, or self-publish your own book. Whatever you do, just do it. Your personal satisfaction will be priceless.

©2012 Fatback and Foie Gras. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed without permission.

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