BudgetGourmetKitchen.com

When the USDA placed “fats, oils, and sweets” on the top of the food pyramid in 1992, they certainly had candied walnuts in mind. With its sweet caramelized coating balanced by the mild bitterness of the walnut, this delicacy deserves nothing less than its own shrine on the summit. From up high, the candied walnut casts its shadow over the lesser food groups, daring us to obey its subtitle, use sparingly.

Restaurants take this advice all too literally, reserving candied walnuts only for salads of arugula, apples, and blue cheese. When buying candied walnuts at the store, as well, the high prices encourage us to use them as rarely as possible. The solution, then, is to make them at home, where the ingredients are cheap and the result should be used any way but sparingly.

Candying walnuts at home takes a few steps, as well as unshakable patience while the nuts cool down after being candied. First, simmer the walnuts in simple syrup for a minute or two, then toss them in sugar until just coated. Finally, cook the walnuts in a hot pan with a little oil until the sugar caramelizes and gives the walnuts a shiny coating.

Remove the hot walnuts from the pan with a slotted spoon and let them cool on a plate. Any walnuts touching each other will harden that way, so keep them spread apart.

Some recipes say that you can store the candied walnuts for weeks in an airtight container. We have yet to verify this fact - candied walnuts don’t last in our kitchen for more than fifteen or twenty minutes, no matter how we try and store them.

Other recipes suggest adding cinnamon or grated orange peel to the sugar before tossing the walnuts. Why anyone would want their candied walnuts to smell like a Christmas fruitcake, we don’t know. The only acceptable addition to the sugar coating is salt, and plenty of it. If we were meant to add spices and fruit, their food groups would be up top with the fats, oils, and sweets.

As it turns out, they are. Sort of. In 2005, the USDA decided to replace the socially stratified candied walnut kingdom with some kind of egalitarian triangle - one where all foods share the top and bottom together, and fats, oils, and sweets patiently wait their turn in the pantry for weeks at a time. Maybe some day, USDA. In our book, the candied walnut still reigns.

The watermelon is a rare food that lies at the intersection of juicy and crunchy, satiating the full range between hungry and thirsty. Picked at its peak, it can be the sweetest bite of summer, but somehow blends beautifully with savory dishes like salty, barbecued pork. A food that exists in the crossroads of so many polarizing aesthetics has the power to unite palates from different cultures in a celebration of dribbling juices - the United Nations surely caters all its events with nothing but slices of succulent watermelon.

This spring, watermelon farmers across the country will till their soil in preparation for summer’s demand. While traditional watermelon farming requires lots of experience, the Budget Gourmet Kitchen has been busy reviving an arcane but simple technique for home-grown watermelons: bellybutton farming.

In classic bellybutton watermelon farming, the seed from a ripe watermelon is swallowed whole. The belly button is then exposed to sunlight for as much as six hours a day until the cotyledons - the first leaves of the plant - gently push their way out of the host’s navel.

Thanks to the constant warmth of the host, bellybutton watermelons can survive in a wide range of climates. It’s best to keep the leaves of the plant in as much sun as possible, but don’t worry about watering or fertilizing: for the next 70 to 90 days, depending on the variety, the watermelon plant will absorb a modest amount of nutrients and water directly from the host’s stomach.

There are two schools of thought regarding the proper diet for a bellybutton watermelon to flourish. One camp dictates that the host must have a diet rich in minerals and vitamins. No unpasteurized dairy products are to be eaten, for fear that harmful microbes promote premature decomposition. Nor is alcohol to be consumed, which could permeate the stomach-plant barrier and cause unwanted astringency.

The other camp recommends that no such severe changes of food-intake need to be made, and that the average diet contains enough nutrients for both host and watermelon. Furthermore, it is thought that the plant has an immune system fully capable of tolerating a moderate level of unpasteurized dairy and alcohol.

Once you have successfully grown and harvested the watermelon from your bellybutton, you’ll be happy to sit back and enjoy the fruits of your labor. Enjoy it fresh and raw after stuffing yourself with barbecued chicken, or blend it into daiquiries, or wrap it with prosciutto; the possibilities of this versatile fruit are endless. Eat it all on your own, or share it with feuding neighbors. In the right hands, ripe watermelon can mitigate civil unrest as easily as it consummates a family picnic. Just make sure you spit out the seeds, or else… well, you know.

At various points in American history, from the Westward expansion to the Great Depression, hard times called for frugality in the homestead. For those generations of Americans, the knowledge of edible wild plants was not recreational, it was necessary; the collection of wild mushrooms wasn’t brave, it was survival.

These days, most people wouldn’t even consider scouring pastures and forests for dinner, much less the front lawn or cracks in the sidewalk. But whether we’re strapped for cash or are hunting for delicacies, there are many great reasons to overcome our recent cultural fear of foraged foods. One particularly abundant example appears this time of year in wild prairies as well as city streets: dandelion greens.

These small, tender greens are named for their sharp, tooth-shaped cutouts. Easily identifiable by its bright yellow flower, “dandelion” is an alliteration of the French dent de lion, or “lion’s tooth”.

Dandelion greens are as good in salads as they are sautéed. Use the young raw greens to replace arugula, watercress, or other peppery greens in salads. You can also treat dandelion like a cooking green, and throw it in a pan with garlic and butter.

Farmers’ markets and grocery stores will soon be selling bunches of these bright leaves, but you’ll probably walk on more dandelion greens on the way to the car than you can afford to buy. Save yourself the money - you’ll find plenty in your own backyard.

Henry Alford wrote an article about his recent foray into the 99-cent store diet.

Whether your backyard is a sun drenched farm or you live in a one-bedroom apartment on the tenth floor, growing your own herbs is easy and rewarding. Supermarkets’ high prices for rosemary and oregano become a thing of the past, and you can finally perfect your bouillabaisse and pot-au-feu when your bouquet garni is just steps from your stove.

The reasons go beyond convenience and money saved. The taste of fresh, homegrown herbs can invigorate your recipes and give depth where the dried versions fall short of that complete, well-rounded flavor.

The Basics

Rosemary, oregano, sage, thyme and mint can survive dry, hot, summer dirt, as well as damp, cold windowsills. These herbs are hearty and adaptable, not to mention ubiquitous in your recipes. All they need is a little dirt, a little water, and direct sunlight if you’re feeling fancy.

Given how easy it is to grow these herbs, not to mention the culinary benefits of having them fresh, getting these plants started when you move houses or apartments should be an urgent need. After cleaning the fridge, but before unpacking your shoes.

The Next Level

Basil, tarragon, chives, cilantro, dill, and parsley are more delicate in disposition, needing a bit of care to ensure proper soil and drainage. Without healthy sunlight, these herbs can be minimal producers.

But the pleasures of fresh pesto, homegrown cilantro in your carnitas tacos, and crackling chicken skin with lemon and fresh tarragon can convince us to kick the dog off the bed and coo our sensitive, potted herbs to sleep at night.

The Exotics

Many herbs don’t make it into the the kitchen nearly as often as they should. High prices and rarity can stigmatize them as “special occasion” herbs, but if you’ve got a garden and a decently green thumb (give or take a shade of brown), there’s no reason to not grow them at home.

Shiso, lemongrass, and hoja santa fall into this category. These plants are certainly not native to our backyard, but we’ll be working hard this spring to make sure our tom yum and mole verde have that fresh punch of flavor that you can only get with homegrown herbs.

Ravenswood Sonoma County Old Vine Zinfandel

This wine is refreshing and easy-drinking, but without the bombastic jam and bright berries you might expect from younger zinfandel vines. The old vines’ pepper and tannins give this wine a playful, palatable core with surprising depth, like the soundtrack to a Wes Anderson movie.

At $15 a bottle, this is a great bottle to stock up on for summer barbeques.

Pier 1: Stemless Wine Glasses

Pier 1 is offering stemless wine glasses for $2. These glasses feel large and solid in the hand, unlike the ultra-thin (and ultra-breakable) Riedel versions. Without the fragile stems, these are the right choice for lively dinner parties. The quality of these glasses far exceeds the price.

Europe knows dairy.

The sheer number of incredible cheeses in such a small continent is evidence of a deep cultural wisdom. Even the butter, which is cultured into a yeasty, umami-rich, eat-it-by-the-spoonful kind of delicacy, towers above the lumps of bland milk fat Americans have given the same name.

The European dairy section of your local fancy food shop can be an amusement park for adventurous eaters, but the cheaper American analogues of all this fermented milk can - to put it bluntly - spoil a meal.

Here at the Budget Gourmet Kitchen, we have been searching for ways to enjoy the delicious world of European dairy without having to pay the high price accompanying imported food. While we haven’t found a way to transform the American versions of muenster, gouda, and brie into their flavorful European predecessors, we have found a gem that can be perfectly recreated using pasteurized cream and common American dairy products: crème fraîche.

French for fresh cream, crème fraîche is the result of letting unpasteurized heavy cream sit at room temperature - an act that feels thrilling and naughty the first time you try it. Microbes that occur naturally in cow’s milk will break down parts of the cream; the result is thick and tart, almost yogurt-like in flavor and appearance. Because of its high fat percentage, crème fraîche can be stirred up into a tangy whipped cream, or cooked into sauces without the fear of separation or curdling.

Making Crème Fraîche at Home

The bacteria responsible for the cream’s blossoming into crème fraîche is, unfortunately, destroyed during pasteurization. Luckily, the very same bacteria can be found in buttermilk or sour cream. As long as the buttermilk or sour cream has live cultures, they will convert the heavy cream into crème fraîche if left to sit at room temperature for a day or two.

Add two tablespoons of buttermilk or half a cup of sour cream to each cup of heavy cream. Let sit at room temperature (around 70°F), stirring every 8 hours. Once the cream has thickened to an almost yogurt-like consistency, put it in the fridge where it will further thicken and keep for two weeks.

Here are a couple links sent in by readers:

•  Tips for making a gourmet kitchen on a shoestring
• Cheaphealthygood, a budget cooking blog

Beets present big obstacles for the home chef. Stained counter tops and chopping blocks, as well as a somewhat lengthy preparation process, cause many of us to leave beets to the restaurants. But beyond these hurdles lie tender, sweet roots that stay firm and moist through cooking, nutritious chard-like leaves and dazzling colors when winter has bled the land of all pigment.

Some species are grown and processed commercially for their high sugar content, and some for their characteristic red dye. In the grocery store you will usually find the common red beet, with its sweet and strongly earthy flavor. Also common is the golden variety, whose earthiness is less pronounced, and occasionally the sweeter but slightly less firm white-fleshed variety.

At one point considered an aphrodisiac, beets have been forsaken by many home chefs who associate the red root with bland, thin soup recipes from Eastern European great grandparents. But there is no need to banish these vegetables to the culinary calaboose. A natural pairing with acidic flavors, they make a great addition to salads with endive, goat cheese, hazelnuts and a balsamic vinagrette. They can be pickled with vinegar and sugar and stored for summer months. In our favorite recipe, given below, they are steamed and paired with the flavors of fennel, rosemary, cracked pepper and gruyère.

Beet juice can blemish wood, so use a plastic cutting board to minimize kitchen pigmentation. Betanins, the chemical group responsible for the beet’s striking colors, are water soluble; just wipe away any spilled juices with a sponge. If you’re squeamish about colored hands, use thin latex gloves.

Gougères Stuffed with Beets and Fennel

Prepare a pound of beets by chopping off all but two inches of the leaves, place in a deep baking dish with an inch of water, and cover with foil. Place in a 400° oven until tender in the center (note: smaller beets cook quicker, and often taste better), approximately 30 minutes for two-inch wide beets. After cooling the cooked beets, slip off the skin under cold water and set aside.

Make the gougères: bring a cup of milk and a stick of butter to a near boil. Add a teaspoon of salt and half a tablespoon each of freshly cracked black pepper and crushed rosemary. Add a cup of white flour and beat over low heat for two minutes (it will be thick). Add 3/4 cup of grated gruyère and mix until you have a homogeneous, gooey dough. Remove from heat and add four beaten eggs, stirring until the dough comes together. On a baking sheet lined with parchment paper, spoon balls of dough 1.5 inches thick, 3 inches apart. Wipe with egg wash and bake at 425° until golden brown, around 12 minutes.

After the gougères cool, slice them in half into top and bottom. Fill with a mound of thinly cut fennel, a few slices of beet, and a few drops of lemon juice.

Novella Carpenter wrote an article about a foodie in the Bay Area working with a very limited budget.