Vegetables

By Gwen Ashley Walters | JUNE 08, 2011 | BEVERAGES

Seacat Gardens Charentais

Summer in the desert is not for the faint of heart.

Temperatures typically stay north of triple digits from early June through mid-September.

One way to weather the eternal inferno is to slice open a cool, sweet melon — undeniably one of summer’s greatest gifts.

Last summer I discovered Charentais, a French melon grown by Phoenix grower Carl Seacat of Seacat Gardens.

By mid-June, continuing through July and hopefully August, too, Seacat will have these beautiful, honeyed melons at the Scottsdale Stadium Summer Market (that is if restaurant chefs don’t gobble them all up first).

Here’s the original post and a recipe for a Charentais Frappé (the smoothie’s haut monde cousin). Find out what Seacat told me that contradicted everything I knew about cantaloupes.

In West Texas, July brought a windfall of Pecos cantaloupes, surely the sweetest melons I’ve ever tasted.

Until now… Read more and get the recipe …

By Gwen Ashley Walters | JULY 29, 2010 | RESTAURANT JOURNAL

Culturally speaking, Phoenix became much richer on April 24, with the opening of MIM, the world’s first global musical museum, a 190,000 square-foot, two-story complex featuring more than 10,000 instruments and associated objects.

Perhaps the best kept secret of the barely 3-month old museum is the bright and airy café located off the main wing.

And here’s another secret: you don’t have to purchase an admission ticket to eat in the café.

All you have to do is stop at the admissions desk and ask for a pass for the café.

Café might be a misnomer, as the set up is cafeteria-style, although this isn’t your run-of-the-mill cafeteria — or typical museum café for that matter.

The café is operated by Bon Appétit Management company, and the kitchen is run by Edward Farrow, a chef with serious credentials including the River Café in New York, The Inn at Little Washington in Virginia, and Kai, Arizona’s only 5-Diamond restaurant.

While the setting seems like a cafeteria — shuffling through a food line, paying at a register at the end, and eventually, placing your tray on a conveyor belt headed for the dishwasher — the cuisine tells a different story.

The menu is driven by Bon Appetit’s “Circle of Responsibility” philosophy. Crafted — and subsequently labeled — with identifiers like “Organic,” “Vegetarian,” “Gluten Free,” Low Fat,” and “Farm to Fork.”

The Farm to Fork label means the ingredients are locally sourced, and Chef Farrow is on speed dial with local producers like Queen Creek Olive Mill, The Meat Shop, Fossil Creek Creamery, and Seacat Gardens.

The menu features a weekly soup and another that changes every two days ($2.95 cup/$3.95 bowl), just like the global special ($8.25), a personal-size pizza ($7.25), an AZ local special ($8.25), and a grill special ($8.25).

The global dish might be a braised rabbit panni, with spinach, sun-dried tomatoes and havarti, served with a bowl of Mediterranean olives. (pictured above)

There are weekly deli sandwiches and burgers — beef, turkey and veggie — and even a hot dog.

House made potato chips ($1.75) with sea salt are made fresh daily.

Theoretically, you could eat here every day and never have the same dish twice.

The grill special could be a fine piece of halibut, rubbed with a sweet chile glaze, seared to just done, and served with a tomatillo-avocado salsa, and black, forbidden rice topped with pine nuts and sunflower seeds. (pictured below)

Did I mention it was only $8.25?

The Café at MIM makes all their desserts in-house, and they change frequently, too, like a cherry chocolate cream tart, a marble cake parfait and a Sonoran lemon cake, all $4.50.

For $6, there’s a local cheese plate, with cheese, flat bread, fig and date cake, and honey.

Could this little gem be one of the best lunch spots in the Valley? Maybe. It certainly exceeds the quality vs. price ratio.

And it couldn’t be easier to get to, located just one block south of the 101 off Tatum Boulevard.

On second thought, maybe we should just keep this little secret between us.

Café at the MIM
4725 East Mayo Boulevard, Phoenix
480-478-6000
Hours: 11 a.m. to 2 p.m. daily

By Gwen Ashley Walters | JUNE 21, 2010 | BEVERAGES

 

I grew up thinking a cantaloupe was a cantaloupe.

In West Texas, July brought a windfall of Pecos cantaloupes, surely the sweetest melons I’ve ever tasted.

Until now.

Shopping at the Scottsdale farmers market, I stopped at Seacat Gardens, and Carl Seacat asked me if I’d ever tasted a true cantaloupe.

Seacat, who farms an acre on the west side of Phoenix, says the netted melons we grew up with, and see in all the grocery stores this time of year, are really muskmelons — not true cantaloupes.

Front and center of his display, a bunch of orbs — some barely bigger than a softball — looked rather dwarfish, certainly nothing like the melons I thought of as cantaloupes.

 

Some were grayish green and others were marked with swaths of yellow streaks. The skins were smooth, unlike the webbed muskmelon-formerly-known-as-the-cantaloupe.

“These are Charentais,” he said, “a true cantaloupe — also called a French melon.”

And then he told me about the aroma, the taste, and before you know it, I’m handing over my wallet.

 

Seacat says Charentais (pronounced sha-rhan-tay, or in my best West Texas accent: Sharon-taze) emit heady floral fragrances and show pronounced yellowing when ripe. He told me to leave green ones on the counter a few days.

Back home, I sliced open the ripest one and immediately caught a whiff of honeysuckle — or was it jasmine or some blurred zephyr of the two?

The French wrap prosciutto around slices of Charentais. Seems rather Italian, doesn’t it?

My first inclination was to stand over the cutting board, which I did, biting into juicy slice after slice, sweet nectar dripping down my chin.

In my brain, the taste registered as cantaloupe, yet there was something marginally different about this melon.

The taste of honey filled my mouth. I swallowed and what lingered was sweet and floral.

At $3.75 a pound, perhaps it’s best to enjoy this melon alone, unadorned.

But I couldn’t help think of all the things I wanted to make with it.

Charentais salsa, with bits of red onion, jalapeno, mint and a spritz of lime.

Or a chilled Charentais soup, like the cantaloupe soup I submitted to Food 52.

Seacat told me that local pastry chef Tracy Dempsey was busy whipping up a Charantais sorbet as we spoke.

In the end, I decided to make a frothy Charentais frappé.

Still, I’m not sure anything beats eating Charentais straight from the cutting board.

 

 

Charentais Frappé

(printable recipe)

Look for Charentais melons at farmers markets. In the Phoenix area, Seacat Garden’s will have Charentais at the Scottsdale Stadium Farmers Market through the end of the summer. You can substitute 2-1/4 cups of cubed cantaloupe or honeydew for the Charentais. And by “cantaloupe” I mean muskmelon — which I swear I thought was a cantaloupe until I met the Charentais.

Serves 2

Ingredients
1 (1-1/4 pound) Charentais melon
1 cup lowfat vanilla yogurt
1 teaspoon lemon juice
1/8 teaspoon ground cardamom*

Method
1. Peel and seed melon. Chop into large chunks. Place in the freezer for 10-15 minutes (don’t freeze completely).

2. Place the yogurt in a blender. Place the chilled melon chunks on top of the yogurt. Add lemon juice and cardamom.

3. Blend until frothy. Chill until ready to serve.

*Cardamom adds an exotic note, but you can use cinnamon, or a dash of nutmeg instead.

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