I'm catching up on stuff I've made over the past week or so, hence the number of recipe posts tonight.
I still have half a pot of this soup in the fridge, because it makes a big pot of soup. And I used to hate cabbage, so you'd think I wouldn't be too thrilled at the idea of a giant pot of cabbage soup in my fridge. But I couldn't be happier. I think cabbage soup has had a rough time of it. Some evil diet company seized on the idea way back when, and ever since people have associated it with self-torture, when in reality it's anything but. Cabbage soup originally started out as a way to make the tough cabbage stems into something tender and wonderful, and it still suits that purpose remarkably well.
In a way, this is one of my 'trash' soups: made of a little of this and a little of that, just whatever I had lying around in the fridge when I went to make soup. But in other ways, it's a very converted effort at a particular purpose. Because I don't ordinarily have cabbage sitting around my my fridge (remember how I said I hated it?). I had to buy cabbage especially for this soup, and I was glad I did. It's a very green soup, very fresh, and perfect for fall. It's warm and comforting, without being heavy or tough to digest. Best of all, it turned cabbage from something slimy and gross into something delicate and sweet, something that practically melts on your tongue and dances beautifully with the peppery undertone in the broth here. I love cabbage like this, and that's something I never thought I'd say.
Cabbage Soup
1 medium or large napa cabbage, washed
4 medium sized leeks, washed
1 bunch celery
1 large sweet onion (Videlia or mayan sweet)
1 1/2 tbsp unsalted butter
80 oz chicken stock or chicken broth
1 1/2 tbsp Better Than Boullion
Pepper
Salt
Begin by chopping the onion and adding it to a very large soup pot, along with the butter. Turn the pot on over medium heat, and let the butter melt and begin to caramelize the onion. While this is happening, chop your leeks. When the onion achieves a light brown color and smells sweet and tender, add the leeks and stir to coat them in the butter. Let the leeks soften and wilt while you chop the celery. Add the celery one stem at a time as you get it chopped, and let it be softening as you go.
Once the celery is all chopped and has had a chance to soften just a little with the other veggies, add your broth or stock to the pot. Chop your cabbage into quarters, then chop each quarter into thin ribbons and add these to the soup. Finish by adding the Better Than Boullion, and a generous dash of pepper. Tasting the soup is the best guide to how much pepper, but I tend to go heavy on this, because the pepper amps up the vegetable-y flavours in the soup and adds pizzazz. Bring the whole pot to a boil (it's probably a very full pot after all this, so keep an eye on it to make sure it doesn't bubble over), then cover it, turn it down to a simmer, and let it cook for a hour or so. Once the cabbage is melting-soft and the flavours have had a chance to meld and get to know each other, dish it out into serving bowls and eat.
Servings: 10-12, maybe more
Showing posts with label soups and salads. Show all posts
Showing posts with label soups and salads. Show all posts
Monday, October 27, 2008
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Ithaca Potato-Cheese Soup
After August was a productive month, September has been sadly the opposite. It's mostly the fault of a huge batch of Mexican Minestrone I made fairly early in the month. I didn't like it enough to post here, but there was so much of it that I haven't cooked anything much since, because I had to eat the leftovers. I hate it when that happens: a recipe turns out to produce more than you think it will, but doesn't taste as good as you'd hoped, so that you're stuck eating the sub-par remains for longer than you'd like. Anyway, it's gone now, and to celebrate (because I deserved a reward after all that), I made this soup instead. I can't really believe I hadn't put it on here yet; it's one of my fall staples (I guess I haven't been writing this for a year yet, so maybe I'm just coming around to my fall recipes).
I lived in Ithaca, NY for years, a town best known to many culinary afficiandoes as the home of the Moosewood Restaurant, perhaps the most famous exclusively vegetarian restaurant in the world. I ate at the Moosewood on a semi-regular basis, and loved it: the fun, unpretentious atmosphere; the generally knowledgeable and always friendly waitstaff; and most of all, the appreciation for genuinely delicious vegetarian cooking. The Moosewood always cooked balls-to-the-wall, with no apologies for their vegetarian ethos and no sacrifices on the flavour end for health.
Naturally (much like the Zuni cafe), I felt compelled to attempt to replicate some of their recipes for myself. Luckily (again, like Zuni), the Moosewood publishes a Beard-winning cookbook to help me. The funny thing was, as I began to look over their recipes, I saw places where some of my favorites could be streamlined: butter cut out and portioning easily extended with no cuts in the flavour or quality of the recipe. So naturally, I fiddled. You saw that coming, didn't you?
This is the result, a guiltless take on the Moosewood's Potato-Cheese soup par excellence. I've managed to cut the calories nearly in half, with the help of non-stick cookware and cornstarch, so that this version has fewer calories than, say, a Lean Pocket, and tastes about a million times better. Like the Moosewood's famous incarnation of its predecessor, it's still decadently creamy, and it still practically melts in your mouth. Much like the Root Soup that was one of my very first recipes on this blog, this soup takes advantage of the fact that boiled starches puree into something altogether blissful: velvetty smooth and full of deep, earthy flavour. Then, this soup goes one further and adds cheese to the mix, one of my favorite foods! When I was a kid, I would insist on Mother re-crisping my potato skins and adding cheddar to the top of them, just because those two tastes were clearly meant to go together. This soup is a very grown-up, very good-for-you spin on the exact same concept. I always feel like I'm getting away with something when I eat it. Or maybe I'm getting away to somewhere. It takes me back to fall days in Ithaca, when the gorges roared outside my open window and the leaves melted into a riot of colors. Those were laughing days, joyful days, some of the best days of my life. This is a soup that tastes like that.
Ithaca Potato-Cheese Soup
1 tbsp unsalted butter
2 cups onions, chopped
1 garlic clove, minced
2 russet potatoes, skin on, chopped into 1 inch cubes (Or, and this is even better, you can substitute 1 1/4 lb fingerling potatoes instead. If you can get them fresh, just out of the ground, or especially if you grow your own, the flavour is AMAZING)
1 carrot, chopped
4 cups water or vegetable stock (go with the stock if you can. It adds a little je ne sais quoi)
1 tsp dill (or more, to taste)
1 1/2 cups skim milk
4 ounces of light cream cheese
1 cup sharp or extra-sharp cheddar cheese, grated (Find the best quality cheese that you can. You want a ton of flavour from it, since the stronger its personality, the more you'll feel it in the soup. I generally go for a local, farm-aged cheese here that far outstrips the generic supermarket brands. Trust me, it's worth the extra money)
Salt
Pepper
Optional: 1 tsp ancho chile powder, or more to taste
In a large non-stick soup pot, sauté the onions and garlic in the butter over medium-high heat until the onions are translucent. You may not even need the full tablespoon of butter: I usually use only the bare minimum here, to keep things from drying out too much. Add the potatoes and carrots, then the stock or water and dill and simmer for 20 minutes, or until the potatoes are soft all the way through. Test one with a fork to make sure.
Puree the vegetables with the cream cheese and milk in a food processor. Work slowly, and only fill the food processor 1/3 full each time (hot foods can explode out it if you fill it too full!). Return the soup to the soup pot after it's been pureed. Taste the soup, and season appropriately with salt and pepper. If you're feeling adventurous, add a dash of ancho chile pepper (I use 1 tsp, then taste it and add more as needed) for a piquant Southwestern spin on this soup. Stir in the cheddar cheese and reheat gently, stirring until the cheddar is melted and incorporated smoothly into the soup.
Serve immediately, and garnish each cup or bowl with chopped fresh parsley or chives if you're serving guests.
Servings: 6-8
I lived in Ithaca, NY for years, a town best known to many culinary afficiandoes as the home of the Moosewood Restaurant, perhaps the most famous exclusively vegetarian restaurant in the world. I ate at the Moosewood on a semi-regular basis, and loved it: the fun, unpretentious atmosphere; the generally knowledgeable and always friendly waitstaff; and most of all, the appreciation for genuinely delicious vegetarian cooking. The Moosewood always cooked balls-to-the-wall, with no apologies for their vegetarian ethos and no sacrifices on the flavour end for health.
Naturally (much like the Zuni cafe), I felt compelled to attempt to replicate some of their recipes for myself. Luckily (again, like Zuni), the Moosewood publishes a Beard-winning cookbook to help me. The funny thing was, as I began to look over their recipes, I saw places where some of my favorites could be streamlined: butter cut out and portioning easily extended with no cuts in the flavour or quality of the recipe. So naturally, I fiddled. You saw that coming, didn't you?
This is the result, a guiltless take on the Moosewood's Potato-Cheese soup par excellence. I've managed to cut the calories nearly in half, with the help of non-stick cookware and cornstarch, so that this version has fewer calories than, say, a Lean Pocket, and tastes about a million times better. Like the Moosewood's famous incarnation of its predecessor, it's still decadently creamy, and it still practically melts in your mouth. Much like the Root Soup that was one of my very first recipes on this blog, this soup takes advantage of the fact that boiled starches puree into something altogether blissful: velvetty smooth and full of deep, earthy flavour. Then, this soup goes one further and adds cheese to the mix, one of my favorite foods! When I was a kid, I would insist on Mother re-crisping my potato skins and adding cheddar to the top of them, just because those two tastes were clearly meant to go together. This soup is a very grown-up, very good-for-you spin on the exact same concept. I always feel like I'm getting away with something when I eat it. Or maybe I'm getting away to somewhere. It takes me back to fall days in Ithaca, when the gorges roared outside my open window and the leaves melted into a riot of colors. Those were laughing days, joyful days, some of the best days of my life. This is a soup that tastes like that.
Ithaca Potato-Cheese Soup
1 tbsp unsalted butter
2 cups onions, chopped
1 garlic clove, minced
2 russet potatoes, skin on, chopped into 1 inch cubes (Or, and this is even better, you can substitute 1 1/4 lb fingerling potatoes instead. If you can get them fresh, just out of the ground, or especially if you grow your own, the flavour is AMAZING)
1 carrot, chopped
4 cups water or vegetable stock (go with the stock if you can. It adds a little je ne sais quoi)
1 tsp dill (or more, to taste)
1 1/2 cups skim milk
4 ounces of light cream cheese
1 cup sharp or extra-sharp cheddar cheese, grated (Find the best quality cheese that you can. You want a ton of flavour from it, since the stronger its personality, the more you'll feel it in the soup. I generally go for a local, farm-aged cheese here that far outstrips the generic supermarket brands. Trust me, it's worth the extra money)
Salt
Pepper
Optional: 1 tsp ancho chile powder, or more to taste
In a large non-stick soup pot, sauté the onions and garlic in the butter over medium-high heat until the onions are translucent. You may not even need the full tablespoon of butter: I usually use only the bare minimum here, to keep things from drying out too much. Add the potatoes and carrots, then the stock or water and dill and simmer for 20 minutes, or until the potatoes are soft all the way through. Test one with a fork to make sure.
Puree the vegetables with the cream cheese and milk in a food processor. Work slowly, and only fill the food processor 1/3 full each time (hot foods can explode out it if you fill it too full!). Return the soup to the soup pot after it's been pureed. Taste the soup, and season appropriately with salt and pepper. If you're feeling adventurous, add a dash of ancho chile pepper (I use 1 tsp, then taste it and add more as needed) for a piquant Southwestern spin on this soup. Stir in the cheddar cheese and reheat gently, stirring until the cheddar is melted and incorporated smoothly into the soup.
Serve immediately, and garnish each cup or bowl with chopped fresh parsley or chives if you're serving guests.
Servings: 6-8
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Chicken noodle soup
I had roasted a chicken, and had plenty of left-over chicken bits that I needed to do something with. To be precise, I had half a breast, a thigh, a wing, and a leg. The obvious solution was to make chicken soup.
This is best if you think a little bit ahead of time when you're prepping your chicken. If you're sectioning the chicken (I always do a ten-piece section, but to each his own), take the backbone and giblets and boil them in a large pot of water with some veggie bits (save the ends of your leeks, maybe toss in some baby carrots, whatever you've got and don't really need) and spices for a couple of hours to make stock. That will save you money, since you won't have to buy stock, and it'll taste better anyway. If you aren't sectioning your chicken, just use boxed stock.
What type of noodles you use is also up to you. I used the 'dumpling' noodles that come in large bags, since they were on sale. But any type of pasta is good, so just throw in whatever you've got on hand.
Chicken Noodle Soup
1/2 medium sweet onion (or 1/4 large onion), diced
2 tbsp unsalted butter
1 leek
15-30 baby carrots, sliced into little circles
2 ribs celery, diced
Chicken, torn into bit-sized chunks (I never measure how much chicken I use, since it's mainly determined by how much I've got left over. It doesn't really matter, just use what you've got)
Stock (Again, I never measure this, since it's mainly determined by whether I made stock when I sectioned the chicken. Just have enough to fill the pot to a comfortable level, about 2 qts)
1 cube chicken boullion
Fresh thyme and oregano, wrapped together into a little sachet
1/2 tsp ground sage
Noodles
Begin by melting the butter over medium heat in a large soup pot. When it's melted, add the onion, and let the onion soften for 5 minutes or so. While the onion is cooking, slice the leek by cutting off the end and the dark leaves, then slicing it length-wise once and into 1/4 inch thick semicircles. When the onion has turned translucent and is right on the edge starting to caramelize, add the leek and stir until the leek has softened up.
When the onion and leek are done, add your stock to the pot and dump in your chicken and carrots. Add your spice sachet (I sometimes just use a twist-tie to make a little bundle, if I'm out of cheesecloth) and the two boullion cubes. The boullion is in fact optional, but I find it gives a little more dimension to the stock.
Bring the pot to a boil, and then cover it and reduce the heat on the burner to low to let it simmer for 30-45 minutes. More time won't hurt it, but I wouldn't try to do this any quicker. The soup tastes better when it has time for its flavors to meld.
Ten minutes before you intend to serve it, boil the pasta in salted water. It's important that you only add the noodles to the soup right before you serve it, otherwise they get soggy and lose their texture. If you intend to keep the soup for several days and serve leftovers, just keep the noodles in a separate container of their own, and pick out a handful to add to your bowls just before you rewarm the soup. Remove and discard the herb sachet, then serve with crusty bread.
Servings: Variable, depending on how much of the chicken, stock, and noodles you use. I usually do large batches that are about 12 servings, but it could easily be cut to 4 or 6.
This is best if you think a little bit ahead of time when you're prepping your chicken. If you're sectioning the chicken (I always do a ten-piece section, but to each his own), take the backbone and giblets and boil them in a large pot of water with some veggie bits (save the ends of your leeks, maybe toss in some baby carrots, whatever you've got and don't really need) and spices for a couple of hours to make stock. That will save you money, since you won't have to buy stock, and it'll taste better anyway. If you aren't sectioning your chicken, just use boxed stock.
What type of noodles you use is also up to you. I used the 'dumpling' noodles that come in large bags, since they were on sale. But any type of pasta is good, so just throw in whatever you've got on hand.
Chicken Noodle Soup
1/2 medium sweet onion (or 1/4 large onion), diced
2 tbsp unsalted butter
1 leek
15-30 baby carrots, sliced into little circles
2 ribs celery, diced
Chicken, torn into bit-sized chunks (I never measure how much chicken I use, since it's mainly determined by how much I've got left over. It doesn't really matter, just use what you've got)
Stock (Again, I never measure this, since it's mainly determined by whether I made stock when I sectioned the chicken. Just have enough to fill the pot to a comfortable level, about 2 qts)
1 cube chicken boullion
Fresh thyme and oregano, wrapped together into a little sachet
1/2 tsp ground sage
Noodles
Begin by melting the butter over medium heat in a large soup pot. When it's melted, add the onion, and let the onion soften for 5 minutes or so. While the onion is cooking, slice the leek by cutting off the end and the dark leaves, then slicing it length-wise once and into 1/4 inch thick semicircles. When the onion has turned translucent and is right on the edge starting to caramelize, add the leek and stir until the leek has softened up.
When the onion and leek are done, add your stock to the pot and dump in your chicken and carrots. Add your spice sachet (I sometimes just use a twist-tie to make a little bundle, if I'm out of cheesecloth) and the two boullion cubes. The boullion is in fact optional, but I find it gives a little more dimension to the stock.
Bring the pot to a boil, and then cover it and reduce the heat on the burner to low to let it simmer for 30-45 minutes. More time won't hurt it, but I wouldn't try to do this any quicker. The soup tastes better when it has time for its flavors to meld.
Ten minutes before you intend to serve it, boil the pasta in salted water. It's important that you only add the noodles to the soup right before you serve it, otherwise they get soggy and lose their texture. If you intend to keep the soup for several days and serve leftovers, just keep the noodles in a separate container of their own, and pick out a handful to add to your bowls just before you rewarm the soup. Remove and discard the herb sachet, then serve with crusty bread.
Servings: Variable, depending on how much of the chicken, stock, and noodles you use. I usually do large batches that are about 12 servings, but it could easily be cut to 4 or 6.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Rutabaga-Leek Soup
It's been a long time since I posted a soup recipe, and if I recall correctly, the last time I extolled the virtues of unappreciated root vegetables. This is another one of those soups. The flavour is buttery and smooth, sort of like a good veggie stock's grown up cousin, but a bowl won't leave you feeling like there's a stone in your stomach.
You see, it's ninety-five degrees where I live now, and I am not in the mood for some wintery soup. So this one is lighter, and takes advantage of the snappy flavour of fresh leeks to add a bit of a twist. It's comfort food for when comfort food needs a lighter edge, like those days when you just feel the need to do something good for your body. I'm really kind of in love.
(Bonus! With food prices so ridiculous these days, underappreciated veggies tend to be cheap, because groceries want to get rid of them. So it's also cost-effective!)
(Extra-Bonus! It only uses one pot total, so the clean up takes about two minutes, and less if you've got a dishwasher!)
Rutabaga-Leek Soup
1 rutabaga, peeled (I find a vegetable peeler works best for this, but some people use paring knives)
1/2 small onion, or 1/4 medium one
3 large leeks, or 4 medium ones
3 tbsp unsalted butter
1 1/2 qts chicken stock
1 beef bouillon cube
1 can black beans, drained (I like Bush's)
6 stalks fresh thyme
2 stalks fresh oregano
Olive oil
Salt
Pepper
Begin by cutting your rutabaga into 1 inch cubes. These are supposed to be kind of rustic, so don't waste time with perfect knife work. Dump the rutabaga into a soup pot (which should be very large) about 1/3 full of boiling water, and add a small palmful of salt. Reduce the heat until the rutabaga is just barely boiling (on my stove this is medium-high), and cook for 10-15 minutes, or until the rutabaga is soft. When it's finished, drain it and let it sit until you need it.
While the rutabaga is boiling, chop your onion, then chop your leeks. Begin by cutting off the dark green leaves, and the very tip of the white end (the bit with the tentacle-ish roots). Wash your leeks thoroughly (this is very important, as leeks can contain dirt, and that's gross), then cut them in half lengthwise. Chop both halves into 1/4 inch thick semi-circles.
When the rutabaga is finished boiling and has been drained, rinse out the soup pot and return it to the burner. Lower the heat to medium and melt the butter, then drop in the onions. When the onions are soft and translucent, add the leeks and stir to coat them in butter. If you end up with too many leeks to coat sufficiently in butter, add a dash of olive oil to make sure they don't wind up sticking to the pot. Cook the leeks, stirring often, until they've softened and gone limp.
Add your chicken stock to the soup pot on top of the leeks. Dump in the rutabaga and stir, then dump in the drained beans and stir some more. Your soup should be substantial, but not overcrowded. You can add more stock if necessary; this is kind of an eyeball-it judgment. Add your herbs by just dropping in the whole stalk. You get the best flavour this way, and you can fish out the stalks before you serve it. Bring the whole thing to a boil again, then reduce the heat to low and simmer for 30 minutes. Taste, and adjust seasonings before you serve.
Servings: 8-12
You see, it's ninety-five degrees where I live now, and I am not in the mood for some wintery soup. So this one is lighter, and takes advantage of the snappy flavour of fresh leeks to add a bit of a twist. It's comfort food for when comfort food needs a lighter edge, like those days when you just feel the need to do something good for your body. I'm really kind of in love.
(Bonus! With food prices so ridiculous these days, underappreciated veggies tend to be cheap, because groceries want to get rid of them. So it's also cost-effective!)
(Extra-Bonus! It only uses one pot total, so the clean up takes about two minutes, and less if you've got a dishwasher!)
Rutabaga-Leek Soup
1 rutabaga, peeled (I find a vegetable peeler works best for this, but some people use paring knives)
1/2 small onion, or 1/4 medium one
3 large leeks, or 4 medium ones
3 tbsp unsalted butter
1 1/2 qts chicken stock
1 beef bouillon cube
1 can black beans, drained (I like Bush's)
6 stalks fresh thyme
2 stalks fresh oregano
Olive oil
Salt
Pepper
Begin by cutting your rutabaga into 1 inch cubes. These are supposed to be kind of rustic, so don't waste time with perfect knife work. Dump the rutabaga into a soup pot (which should be very large) about 1/3 full of boiling water, and add a small palmful of salt. Reduce the heat until the rutabaga is just barely boiling (on my stove this is medium-high), and cook for 10-15 minutes, or until the rutabaga is soft. When it's finished, drain it and let it sit until you need it.
While the rutabaga is boiling, chop your onion, then chop your leeks. Begin by cutting off the dark green leaves, and the very tip of the white end (the bit with the tentacle-ish roots). Wash your leeks thoroughly (this is very important, as leeks can contain dirt, and that's gross), then cut them in half lengthwise. Chop both halves into 1/4 inch thick semi-circles.
When the rutabaga is finished boiling and has been drained, rinse out the soup pot and return it to the burner. Lower the heat to medium and melt the butter, then drop in the onions. When the onions are soft and translucent, add the leeks and stir to coat them in butter. If you end up with too many leeks to coat sufficiently in butter, add a dash of olive oil to make sure they don't wind up sticking to the pot. Cook the leeks, stirring often, until they've softened and gone limp.
Add your chicken stock to the soup pot on top of the leeks. Dump in the rutabaga and stir, then dump in the drained beans and stir some more. Your soup should be substantial, but not overcrowded. You can add more stock if necessary; this is kind of an eyeball-it judgment. Add your herbs by just dropping in the whole stalk. You get the best flavour this way, and you can fish out the stalks before you serve it. Bring the whole thing to a boil again, then reduce the heat to low and simmer for 30 minutes. Taste, and adjust seasonings before you serve.
Servings: 8-12
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Parmesan-Crusted Salmon Ceasar Salad
Boy, I wrote that title and thought, 'Wow, it makes this salad sound fancy!' And to some degree, it is. This is a classy dish that just screams summer to me. Fresh, crunchy lettuce, plump little tomatoes, a tangy twist on classic Caesar dressing, and salmon pieces wrapped in a delicate Parmesan-breadcrumb crust make this a light, healthy meal that leaves you full but not stuffed. I don't think I've ever eaten a restaurant salad that left me with the same feeling of full flavour, but healthy calorie-count.
I'm not usually a salad person, but I had some lettuce languishing in my fridge after making burgers and gougeres, so one day when I needed something clean and light I thought I'd try to gussy it up into something that even my non-salad-eating self would like. Most of my original recipes happen this way, I think: I'll look into the fridge and think "Oh, that needs to be used before it goes bad. What sort of thing could I do with it that doesn't require a trip to the grocery store?" Laziness and thrift are the mothers of my culinary invention.
This particular gem was inspired by the lettuce I needed to use, and the fact that I'd frozen a salmon steak earlier in the month, so I had some salmon on hand. I'd thought about using chicken originally (and you could probably substitute chicken for salmon here and still have a great salad), but I didn't have any chicken on hand. It was late in the week, and I needed to get to the grocery. So salmon it was, and I think it ended up being a fortuitous choice. Chicken, while a nice all-purpose meat, can't rival salmon for both clean, healthy flavor and a certain classiness that salmon conveys. Salmon has long been my go-to meat when I need to feel like I'm being good, when I feel like I've eaten to much fried or cream-heavy stuff for a few days. Salmon is a palate cleanser, and pairing it with the refreshing salad makes for a really healthy, sort of Zen meal.
I will definitely make this one again, and I foresee it becoming a staple in my summer repertoire. As long as there are fresh veggies and swimsuit figures to consider, this salad is a great way for me to feel like I'm doing something good for myself, as well as good for my tastebuds!
Parmesan-Crusted Salmon Caesar Salad
For the dressing:
1/2 tbsp red wine vinegar
A scant 1/2 cup olive oil
About 1/2 - 1 tbsp finely chopped cooked salmon (I just microwave a small chunk off the salmon I'm about to cook anyway, then mince it with a sharp knife)
3 loves garlic, very finely chopped
1 egg
1 1/2 tbsp lemon juice
1 1/2 cups lightly packed Parmesan or Parmegiano-Reggiano, finely grated
Salt
Pepper
For the salmon nuggets:
1 lb salmon fillet (salmon steaks don't work so well for this, and fillets are cheaper anyway)
1/2 cup finely grated Parmesan
1/2 cup plain or Italian fine, dry breadcrumbs
1/4 cup fresh parsley, finely chopped
2 eggs
3 tbsp olive or vegetable oil
Salt
Pepper
For the salad (use your favorites here, obviously, but here's what I used):
Romaine lettuce
15 cherry tomatoes, halved
15 baby carrots, sliced into small circles
2 eggs, boiled and sliced into quarters
1 cucumber, sliced into circles
Begin by making the dressing. Combine the vinegar, oil, minced salmon, a pinch of salt, and a sprinkling of pepper in a small mixing bowl and whisk thoroughly. Add the egg and a few sprinkles of the cheese, whisk those in, and taste it. Add more salt or pepper as necessary. Add the lemon juice, and whisk that in. Taste it again, first by itself, then on a piece of your lettuce. Adjust the dressing to suit the taste of the lettuce -- if the lettuce is very sweet, it may be fine as is, but if the lettuce is a little old or minerally, you may want to add more lemon juice to pull out brightness, more garlic to spike up the fresh flavour a little if the lettuce is bland, or a pinch of sugar to mitigate the acid in the dressing if the lettuce runs toward the minerally. I usually just go with whatever my instinct is, and use a combination of the above techniques to achieve a balanced taste. The key is to add things slowly, so that you don't ruin the dressing. When in doubt, spoon a small amount into another cup, adjust that and taste it until you've got it right, then adjust the rest when you know what needs to be done. When you've got the dressing to your taste, whisk it once more for good measure and stick it in the fridge to chill out while you do the rest of the salad.
Next, make the salmon nuggets. Use a very sharp knife to remove the skin from your salmon fillet. Next, salt and pepper the fillet on both sides, then cut it into nugget-sized chunks. 1 - 1 1/2 inch squares is usually what I go for. In a small mixing bowl, mix together the Parmesan, breadcrumbs, parsley, 1/2 tsp pepper, and 3/4 tsp salt. Stir this until completely combined. In a separate bowl, beat the egg lightly.
Heat the olive oil in a medium saucepan over medium-high heat. Dredge the salmon chunks in the egg, then coat them in the breadcrumb mixture. Set them in the pan to cook, turning them occasionally so that all side of the breadcrumbs get browned. Cook until salmon is done through (about 2 minutes per side, in my experience), then remove the chunks to a paper towel and allow them to drain. Not all of the chunks will fit in the saucepan at once (you don't want them to crowd each other overmuch, it will interfere with their browning process), so you'll probably have to do these in a few batches. When the salmon nuggets are finished, they can be put in an oven or toaster on 200F to keep warm while you prep the rest of the salad.
The final step is salad preparation. Assemble your lettuce into the bowl, and retrieve your dressing from the fridge. Drizzle the dressing very lightly over the lettuce, then toss to ensure that all lettuce pieces are covered in a thin film of dressing. Dust the whole thing with the remaining cheese (remember how you only used a few sprinkles earlier?), coating each piece of lettuce in a 'dust' of grated cheese. Add whatever other salad toppings you're using (tomatoes, carrots, cucumbers, croutons, etc), and pour any remaining cheese over the top. Place the salmon nuggets on top of the salad, and serve the remaining dressing alongside for people to spoon over the salad as they please.
Servings: 2-3, depending mostly on how much salmon everyone like to eat
I'm not usually a salad person, but I had some lettuce languishing in my fridge after making burgers and gougeres, so one day when I needed something clean and light I thought I'd try to gussy it up into something that even my non-salad-eating self would like. Most of my original recipes happen this way, I think: I'll look into the fridge and think "Oh, that needs to be used before it goes bad. What sort of thing could I do with it that doesn't require a trip to the grocery store?" Laziness and thrift are the mothers of my culinary invention.
This particular gem was inspired by the lettuce I needed to use, and the fact that I'd frozen a salmon steak earlier in the month, so I had some salmon on hand. I'd thought about using chicken originally (and you could probably substitute chicken for salmon here and still have a great salad), but I didn't have any chicken on hand. It was late in the week, and I needed to get to the grocery. So salmon it was, and I think it ended up being a fortuitous choice. Chicken, while a nice all-purpose meat, can't rival salmon for both clean, healthy flavor and a certain classiness that salmon conveys. Salmon has long been my go-to meat when I need to feel like I'm being good, when I feel like I've eaten to much fried or cream-heavy stuff for a few days. Salmon is a palate cleanser, and pairing it with the refreshing salad makes for a really healthy, sort of Zen meal.
I will definitely make this one again, and I foresee it becoming a staple in my summer repertoire. As long as there are fresh veggies and swimsuit figures to consider, this salad is a great way for me to feel like I'm doing something good for myself, as well as good for my tastebuds!
Parmesan-Crusted Salmon Caesar Salad
For the dressing:
1/2 tbsp red wine vinegar
A scant 1/2 cup olive oil
About 1/2 - 1 tbsp finely chopped cooked salmon (I just microwave a small chunk off the salmon I'm about to cook anyway, then mince it with a sharp knife)
3 loves garlic, very finely chopped
1 egg
1 1/2 tbsp lemon juice
1 1/2 cups lightly packed Parmesan or Parmegiano-Reggiano, finely grated
Salt
Pepper
For the salmon nuggets:
1 lb salmon fillet (salmon steaks don't work so well for this, and fillets are cheaper anyway)
1/2 cup finely grated Parmesan
1/2 cup plain or Italian fine, dry breadcrumbs
1/4 cup fresh parsley, finely chopped
2 eggs
3 tbsp olive or vegetable oil
Salt
Pepper
For the salad (use your favorites here, obviously, but here's what I used):
Romaine lettuce
15 cherry tomatoes, halved
15 baby carrots, sliced into small circles
2 eggs, boiled and sliced into quarters
1 cucumber, sliced into circles
Begin by making the dressing. Combine the vinegar, oil, minced salmon, a pinch of salt, and a sprinkling of pepper in a small mixing bowl and whisk thoroughly. Add the egg and a few sprinkles of the cheese, whisk those in, and taste it. Add more salt or pepper as necessary. Add the lemon juice, and whisk that in. Taste it again, first by itself, then on a piece of your lettuce. Adjust the dressing to suit the taste of the lettuce -- if the lettuce is very sweet, it may be fine as is, but if the lettuce is a little old or minerally, you may want to add more lemon juice to pull out brightness, more garlic to spike up the fresh flavour a little if the lettuce is bland, or a pinch of sugar to mitigate the acid in the dressing if the lettuce runs toward the minerally. I usually just go with whatever my instinct is, and use a combination of the above techniques to achieve a balanced taste. The key is to add things slowly, so that you don't ruin the dressing. When in doubt, spoon a small amount into another cup, adjust that and taste it until you've got it right, then adjust the rest when you know what needs to be done. When you've got the dressing to your taste, whisk it once more for good measure and stick it in the fridge to chill out while you do the rest of the salad.
Next, make the salmon nuggets. Use a very sharp knife to remove the skin from your salmon fillet. Next, salt and pepper the fillet on both sides, then cut it into nugget-sized chunks. 1 - 1 1/2 inch squares is usually what I go for. In a small mixing bowl, mix together the Parmesan, breadcrumbs, parsley, 1/2 tsp pepper, and 3/4 tsp salt. Stir this until completely combined. In a separate bowl, beat the egg lightly.
Heat the olive oil in a medium saucepan over medium-high heat. Dredge the salmon chunks in the egg, then coat them in the breadcrumb mixture. Set them in the pan to cook, turning them occasionally so that all side of the breadcrumbs get browned. Cook until salmon is done through (about 2 minutes per side, in my experience), then remove the chunks to a paper towel and allow them to drain. Not all of the chunks will fit in the saucepan at once (you don't want them to crowd each other overmuch, it will interfere with their browning process), so you'll probably have to do these in a few batches. When the salmon nuggets are finished, they can be put in an oven or toaster on 200F to keep warm while you prep the rest of the salad.
The final step is salad preparation. Assemble your lettuce into the bowl, and retrieve your dressing from the fridge. Drizzle the dressing very lightly over the lettuce, then toss to ensure that all lettuce pieces are covered in a thin film of dressing. Dust the whole thing with the remaining cheese (remember how you only used a few sprinkles earlier?), coating each piece of lettuce in a 'dust' of grated cheese. Add whatever other salad toppings you're using (tomatoes, carrots, cucumbers, croutons, etc), and pour any remaining cheese over the top. Place the salmon nuggets on top of the salad, and serve the remaining dressing alongside for people to spoon over the salad as they please.
Servings: 2-3, depending mostly on how much salmon everyone like to eat
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Root Soup
Roots. When I was a kid, I wouldn't eat anything that I knew for a fact grew under the ground. That lasted until I was about seven, which was the age that my mother stopped concealing the fact that carrots were roots from me. I loved carrots, and I wasn't willing to give them up for some stand on root-principle. So I adopted the lovely denizens of the underworld into my diet, and I haven't really looked back.
Still, even if I no longer avoid them like cooties, roots somehow lack the glamour of other vegetables in the crisper. They aren't plump and colorful like the peppers, they don't have the snap and chilly crispness of the greens. They're sort of the lowly peasants of the vegetable world, and this fact is reflected in my grocery store's tendency not to stock them. I've had it out with the produce manager over this on several occasions, but he insists that lowly roots don't sell.
Perhaps more people should be introduced to the possibilities of root soup. This is a very basic vegetable soup, and there are actually two different versions: a chunky version wherein I'm too lazy to get out the blender, and a smooth version for which the blender gets a workout. I like both, although I admit that the smooth and creamy version is unbeatable for those dreary winter nights when you just want to curl up with comfort food and maybe watch chick flicks with the cat. On those nights, you don't need glamour; you're not feeling glamorous yourself. No, that's when you need root soup, which is just as lovely and sweet and velvety as can possibly be imagined. It may not be haute cuisine, but these are roots raised above their station in life, and I can't imagine what I was thinking to ever turn up my nose.
Root Soup
I call it Root Soup because it can be made with a variety of different roots. I've tried turnips, celeriac, parsnips, and rutabagas, and they all work fairly well. Turnip is the root that I can get hold of most easily, but celeriac makes a very pretty, pale green color, so I use it if I'm serving guests. I haven't tried it with beets yet, but I bet the color there would be spectacular, so I may try that soon. Anyway, the type of root doesn't really matter. You'll get different flavours with each root, but the basic recipe works for all of them.
3 smallish leeks, chopped. (Don’t be stingy on the leek)
1 small-medium red or yellow onion, roughly diced
2 Tbsp olive oil, plus a little extra optional for finishing
2 tbsp unsalted butter
1 1/2 stalk celery, coarsely chopped
3 cloves garlic, sliced
1 1/2 lb roots
1 1/2 qt chicken stock (This is highly variable. The amount of liquid is one of those ‘adjust til it feel right’ matters that I do by instinct. Occasionally, if I have to resort to using non-homemade broths, I’ll add bouillon cubes to my store-bought chicken stock. Sometimes I toss in a beef cube in addition to a chicken cube for fun and variety. Don’t add too much [it’ll get too salty, and that’s gross], but feel free to experiment with the stock taste here.)
Salt
Pepper
Heavy cream
Chopped chives for serving, optional
Creme fraiche for serving, optional
Start by locating a largish soup pot. Over medium heat, add the olive oil and the butter, allow the butter to melt slightly, then add the onion, leek, celery and garlic. Saute those together until the leek has softened, and the onion turns translucent. Taste this mixture, and season it with salt and pepper accordingly.
To the sauteing veggie mix, add the root chunks and the stock. Bring the whole pot to a rolling simmer, then reduce the heat to medium-low (or just low, depending on your particular stove), cover the pot, and simmer for three or so hours. The root chucks should mash easily against the edge of the pot under pressure from the back of a spoon. This is one of those 'mix it and forget it recipes. I usually watch a movie or a football game, or go off and do some gardening or something. It's difficult to overcook most roots, and longer simmering time will just let the soup's flavours blend more. When your root is soft, remove from heat.
At this point, you get choices. If you want the chunky, lazy-man's version, you're done. Check it one more time for salt, then it's good to go. But if you don't mind a few minutes more work, you can convert it to the creamy version easily. Just work in batches and run it through a blender. Fill the blender no more than 1/3 full (Hot soups will explode because of steam when you turn the blender on if you're not careful. It's no fun to clean up, so just work a little more slowly and you'll avoid the mess) and puree the soup until smooth. Add another dash or so of olive oil and 1/4-1/2 cup of heavy cream to the finished pureed soup to really give it the incredible texture that I love. Be a little stingy with the oil here (you don't want oil globules floating on the surface, you just want a little flavour), but the cream is hard to get wrong. Taste, and adjust seasoning as necessary. If the soup's cooled in the blending process, reheat it gently before eating.
I listed chives and creme fraiche as serving options. This is a nice enough soup that I don't feel bad serving it to company as an appetizer, and if I do that I'll add a dollop of creme fraiche to each bowl, and top the whole thing with chopped chives for accent.
Servings: It depends largely on the exact amount of root and the exact amount of stock that you use. This is a forgiving recipe about quantities, so sometimes I'll get six servings, and sometimes ten. Meh. It does average to about eight lunch-sized servings, though, and probably twelve appetizer-servings.
Still, even if I no longer avoid them like cooties, roots somehow lack the glamour of other vegetables in the crisper. They aren't plump and colorful like the peppers, they don't have the snap and chilly crispness of the greens. They're sort of the lowly peasants of the vegetable world, and this fact is reflected in my grocery store's tendency not to stock them. I've had it out with the produce manager over this on several occasions, but he insists that lowly roots don't sell.
Perhaps more people should be introduced to the possibilities of root soup. This is a very basic vegetable soup, and there are actually two different versions: a chunky version wherein I'm too lazy to get out the blender, and a smooth version for which the blender gets a workout. I like both, although I admit that the smooth and creamy version is unbeatable for those dreary winter nights when you just want to curl up with comfort food and maybe watch chick flicks with the cat. On those nights, you don't need glamour; you're not feeling glamorous yourself. No, that's when you need root soup, which is just as lovely and sweet and velvety as can possibly be imagined. It may not be haute cuisine, but these are roots raised above their station in life, and I can't imagine what I was thinking to ever turn up my nose.
Root Soup
I call it Root Soup because it can be made with a variety of different roots. I've tried turnips, celeriac, parsnips, and rutabagas, and they all work fairly well. Turnip is the root that I can get hold of most easily, but celeriac makes a very pretty, pale green color, so I use it if I'm serving guests. I haven't tried it with beets yet, but I bet the color there would be spectacular, so I may try that soon. Anyway, the type of root doesn't really matter. You'll get different flavours with each root, but the basic recipe works for all of them.
3 smallish leeks, chopped. (Don’t be stingy on the leek)
1 small-medium red or yellow onion, roughly diced
2 Tbsp olive oil, plus a little extra optional for finishing
2 tbsp unsalted butter
1 1/2 stalk celery, coarsely chopped
3 cloves garlic, sliced
1 1/2 lb roots
1 1/2 qt chicken stock (This is highly variable. The amount of liquid is one of those ‘adjust til it feel right’ matters that I do by instinct. Occasionally, if I have to resort to using non-homemade broths, I’ll add bouillon cubes to my store-bought chicken stock. Sometimes I toss in a beef cube in addition to a chicken cube for fun and variety. Don’t add too much [it’ll get too salty, and that’s gross], but feel free to experiment with the stock taste here.)
Salt
Pepper
Heavy cream
Chopped chives for serving, optional
Creme fraiche for serving, optional
Start by locating a largish soup pot. Over medium heat, add the olive oil and the butter, allow the butter to melt slightly, then add the onion, leek, celery and garlic. Saute those together until the leek has softened, and the onion turns translucent. Taste this mixture, and season it with salt and pepper accordingly.
To the sauteing veggie mix, add the root chunks and the stock. Bring the whole pot to a rolling simmer, then reduce the heat to medium-low (or just low, depending on your particular stove), cover the pot, and simmer for three or so hours. The root chucks should mash easily against the edge of the pot under pressure from the back of a spoon. This is one of those 'mix it and forget it recipes. I usually watch a movie or a football game, or go off and do some gardening or something. It's difficult to overcook most roots, and longer simmering time will just let the soup's flavours blend more. When your root is soft, remove from heat.
At this point, you get choices. If you want the chunky, lazy-man's version, you're done. Check it one more time for salt, then it's good to go. But if you don't mind a few minutes more work, you can convert it to the creamy version easily. Just work in batches and run it through a blender. Fill the blender no more than 1/3 full (Hot soups will explode because of steam when you turn the blender on if you're not careful. It's no fun to clean up, so just work a little more slowly and you'll avoid the mess) and puree the soup until smooth. Add another dash or so of olive oil and 1/4-1/2 cup of heavy cream to the finished pureed soup to really give it the incredible texture that I love. Be a little stingy with the oil here (you don't want oil globules floating on the surface, you just want a little flavour), but the cream is hard to get wrong. Taste, and adjust seasoning as necessary. If the soup's cooled in the blending process, reheat it gently before eating.
I listed chives and creme fraiche as serving options. This is a nice enough soup that I don't feel bad serving it to company as an appetizer, and if I do that I'll add a dollop of creme fraiche to each bowl, and top the whole thing with chopped chives for accent.
Servings: It depends largely on the exact amount of root and the exact amount of stock that you use. This is a forgiving recipe about quantities, so sometimes I'll get six servings, and sometimes ten. Meh. It does average to about eight lunch-sized servings, though, and probably twelve appetizer-servings.
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