Way simple, but also very good.
Sweet Potato Fries
2 large sweet potatoes
1/4 cup olive oil
1/2 tbsp salt
1/2 tbsp nutmeg
1/2 tbsp paprika
Preheat your oven to 425F.
Wash and slice the potatoes into fries, about 1/2 inch on each side. Mix all ingredients together in a gallon plastic bag, tossing well to coat the potatoes.
Cover a baking sheet with tin foil (you may need two sheets depending on the size of the potatoes). Spread the fries on the baking sheet in a single layer. Cook for 30 minutes, turning every 10 min so they brown evenly. Serve immediately.
Servings: 4
Showing posts with label vegetables. Show all posts
Showing posts with label vegetables. Show all posts
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Monday, October 27, 2008
Cabbage Soup
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
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
Hash Browns
I had these for supper tonight.
Sometimes I just want starch. I posted my easy potato chip recipe when I was on one of these starch binges, and now I'm posting one of my other favorite things to do to an innocent potato. I just can't leave well enough alone.
The thing about hash browns is that they're addictive. They're also kind of ubiquitous: appropriate for breakfast, lunch, supper, or a midnight snack. They go well with cheese, sour cream, even yogurt. Sometime I'll crack an egg on top of them as they finish cooking, to better imitate the throw-it-all-together-and-fry aesthetic of the greasy spoon diners of my youth. Because that's what hash browns are, at their heart: they're a throwback to the days when I was very little, and my dad would take me to breakfast bars run by ancient old short-order cooks who knew all the customers' names by heart, and who knew what you were ordering before you'd sat down at your regular stool. They remind me of giant flat-top griddles with a coffee-pot that lived on one corner of them, a row of hamburger molds across the back for shaping the fried eggs, and a trough across the front for all the scraps and scrapings, so someone could take them home to their pigs at the end of the morning shift.
Hash browns are meant to be greasy, crispy, and satisfying, and these are. Almost. I generally try not to murder my arteries, so I cut out most of the grease by using non-stick pans. They aren't made on a flat-top griddle, because all I've got it my home stove, but they are crispy and satisfying. I'm no ancient short-order cook, so I haven't quite mastered the authentic je ne sais quoi that comes with wielding a spatula for fifty years in front of one of those griddles. But they're still damn good, and they're fast comfort food for me.
Hash Browns
1 russett potato
1/2 tsp olive oil
Cheddar cheese
Salt
Pepper
Optional: Eggs for frying
Use the food processor to grate the potato. Take the potato-bits, and press them between two layers of paper towels to dry them out a bit. If your towels are soaked and the potato still seems really wet, you may want to repeat this process a few times.
Once you've dried your potato appropriately, set a large saute pan over a burner on medium high. Add the potato gratings in piles (I usually do four or five medium-sized piles per potato). Depending on the size of your pan, you may not be able to do the whole thing at once: the goal is to keep the piles pretty well separate from each other, so that they don't steam each other as they cook. Use a spatula to smoosh the piles flat, into hash brown shaped pancakes. Salt these to taste. Let them cook for about two minutes, then add the olive oil and swirl the pan to get it under all the hash browns. Let the hash browns continue to cook, smushing them to the pan occasionally to help them sear, until the pan-side of the hash browns is a deep golden color. By this time you should be able to flip them without them falling apart, so flip them each, and cook the other side in the same manner until it too is deep crispy brown.
Remove the hash browns to a plate, and grate cheddar cheese on top of them to finish them off.
Alternate way to finish off hash browns: once you've completely crisped both sides of your hash brown, crack an egg over the top of it and fry the egg on and into the hash brown. You get an egg that's really satisfyingly crunchy, and if you add cheese on top of the egg, it's kind of the perfect breakfast all in one little pile.
Servings: 1-2, depending mostly on the size of your potato
Sometimes I just want starch. I posted my easy potato chip recipe when I was on one of these starch binges, and now I'm posting one of my other favorite things to do to an innocent potato. I just can't leave well enough alone.
The thing about hash browns is that they're addictive. They're also kind of ubiquitous: appropriate for breakfast, lunch, supper, or a midnight snack. They go well with cheese, sour cream, even yogurt. Sometime I'll crack an egg on top of them as they finish cooking, to better imitate the throw-it-all-together-and-fry aesthetic of the greasy spoon diners of my youth. Because that's what hash browns are, at their heart: they're a throwback to the days when I was very little, and my dad would take me to breakfast bars run by ancient old short-order cooks who knew all the customers' names by heart, and who knew what you were ordering before you'd sat down at your regular stool. They remind me of giant flat-top griddles with a coffee-pot that lived on one corner of them, a row of hamburger molds across the back for shaping the fried eggs, and a trough across the front for all the scraps and scrapings, so someone could take them home to their pigs at the end of the morning shift.
Hash browns are meant to be greasy, crispy, and satisfying, and these are. Almost. I generally try not to murder my arteries, so I cut out most of the grease by using non-stick pans. They aren't made on a flat-top griddle, because all I've got it my home stove, but they are crispy and satisfying. I'm no ancient short-order cook, so I haven't quite mastered the authentic je ne sais quoi that comes with wielding a spatula for fifty years in front of one of those griddles. But they're still damn good, and they're fast comfort food for me.
Hash Browns
1 russett potato
1/2 tsp olive oil
Cheddar cheese
Salt
Pepper
Optional: Eggs for frying
Use the food processor to grate the potato. Take the potato-bits, and press them between two layers of paper towels to dry them out a bit. If your towels are soaked and the potato still seems really wet, you may want to repeat this process a few times.
Once you've dried your potato appropriately, set a large saute pan over a burner on medium high. Add the potato gratings in piles (I usually do four or five medium-sized piles per potato). Depending on the size of your pan, you may not be able to do the whole thing at once: the goal is to keep the piles pretty well separate from each other, so that they don't steam each other as they cook. Use a spatula to smoosh the piles flat, into hash brown shaped pancakes. Salt these to taste. Let them cook for about two minutes, then add the olive oil and swirl the pan to get it under all the hash browns. Let the hash browns continue to cook, smushing them to the pan occasionally to help them sear, until the pan-side of the hash browns is a deep golden color. By this time you should be able to flip them without them falling apart, so flip them each, and cook the other side in the same manner until it too is deep crispy brown.
Remove the hash browns to a plate, and grate cheddar cheese on top of them to finish them off.
Alternate way to finish off hash browns: once you've completely crisped both sides of your hash brown, crack an egg over the top of it and fry the egg on and into the hash brown. You get an egg that's really satisfyingly crunchy, and if you add cheese on top of the egg, it's kind of the perfect breakfast all in one little pile.
Servings: 1-2, depending mostly on the size of your potato
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Potato Chips
I try to eat healthy, while refusing to sacrifice anything in the area of taste. I am generally very good at finding ways to cut excess fat, sugar, etc out of recipes, and I've trained my taste buds so that I no longer eat ice cream very often, since it now tastes too sweet to me.
Still, in spite of my best intentions, sometimes I just crave potato chips. As in, 'can't do without' cravings. Previously, I would ignore these cravings as best I could, or try to satisfy them with carrots, which, while crunchy, somehow lack that satisfyingly starchy element one gets exclusively from potatoes. What's a health-conscious cook to do?
Make her own, of course! I stumbled on a recipe from fat free vegan kitchen for fast, easy microwave potato chips, which involve no oil whatsoever, and I now reproduce it here in its entirety, along with some tips that I've picked up for better chips.
Potato Chips
1 russet potato (This method might also work with sweet potatoes and other root starches, like rutabagas or turnips, but I haven't tried it yet.)
Salt
The key to making your own potato chips is that miracle of kitchen inventions, the mandoline. Seriously, if you don't have one, get one. In this case, set your mandoline to its thinnest setting and slice your potato with it. If you use the second-thinnest setting, you will end up with very, very thick potato chips, which some people like (myself included), but which take forever to cook.
On your microwave's glass turntable, lay down a piece of parchment and fold the corners under so that the table can still turn. Arrange your potato chips in a single layer on the parchment. You may need to do these in batches; I usually do. Salt the potato chips very lightly. A little salt goes a long way, here. Once this is done, microwave your chips for 5 minutes, keeping an eye on them as you do. When you start to see brown spots in the centers of most of the chips, stop the microwave for one full minute. If you're making thick chips, the brown spots can take longer to appear, up to 8 or 9 minutes. Just be patient. After the minute of resting has elapsed, restart the microwave and nuke the chips for a further 2 minutes, or until all of them appear nicely browned but not burned.
Servings: 2, but I usually eat them all myself.
Still, in spite of my best intentions, sometimes I just crave potato chips. As in, 'can't do without' cravings. Previously, I would ignore these cravings as best I could, or try to satisfy them with carrots, which, while crunchy, somehow lack that satisfyingly starchy element one gets exclusively from potatoes. What's a health-conscious cook to do?
Make her own, of course! I stumbled on a recipe from fat free vegan kitchen for fast, easy microwave potato chips, which involve no oil whatsoever, and I now reproduce it here in its entirety, along with some tips that I've picked up for better chips.
Potato Chips
1 russet potato (This method might also work with sweet potatoes and other root starches, like rutabagas or turnips, but I haven't tried it yet.)
Salt
The key to making your own potato chips is that miracle of kitchen inventions, the mandoline. Seriously, if you don't have one, get one. In this case, set your mandoline to its thinnest setting and slice your potato with it. If you use the second-thinnest setting, you will end up with very, very thick potato chips, which some people like (myself included), but which take forever to cook.
On your microwave's glass turntable, lay down a piece of parchment and fold the corners under so that the table can still turn. Arrange your potato chips in a single layer on the parchment. You may need to do these in batches; I usually do. Salt the potato chips very lightly. A little salt goes a long way, here. Once this is done, microwave your chips for 5 minutes, keeping an eye on them as you do. When you start to see brown spots in the centers of most of the chips, stop the microwave for one full minute. If you're making thick chips, the brown spots can take longer to appear, up to 8 or 9 minutes. Just be patient. After the minute of resting has elapsed, restart the microwave and nuke the chips for a further 2 minutes, or until all of them appear nicely browned but not burned.
Servings: 2, but I usually eat them all myself.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Southern Egg Rolls with Peach-Red Pepper Chutney
A few months back, my parents went on vacation to Charleston, South Carolina and ate at a restaurant there called Magnolias, which is famous for its 'Southern Fusion' cuisine: southern-style takes on dishes from all over the world. Dad came back raving about the appetizer he'd had, a southern-style egg roll with a peach chutney on top. The idea sounded intriguing: substitute collard greens for the cabbage in an egg roll, and use Southern staple meats (chicken, ham, tasso). The chutney sounded amazing, and the ingredients in the egg roll didn't sound difficult. But I'm not one for frying, so I forgot about the egg rolls for a while.
Fast forward to three weeks ago. I was browsing through the cookbooks at my local Books-a-million. I'd been captivated by the plating in a cookbook by Morimoto (yes, the Iron Chef), and I still want to try the recipe for vegan mac-and-cheese in a Moosewood cookbook. But while browsing the regional cuisines shelf, I noticed that Magnolias had put out a cookbook, and lo and behold, there in a place of honor was the recipe for the egg rolls. "Well, that looks easy," I thought. "It's all ingredients I should be able to find around here, and none of the techniques look tough." But I still wasn't a fan of frying. So the egg rolls kind of percolated in the back of my mind for a few weeks, and today when I went grocery shopping, I swore to try them before the season for peaches went out. The key to my change of heart was a blog recipe I found for baked egg rolls, a genius invention that eliminated all the downsides I had been worrying about with this recipe.
They were amazing. They're very very good, a combination of chewy and crisp, earthy and light, with a dash of sweetness from the chutney holding everything together and making it sing. Seriously, don't make this without the chutney. It is the je ne sais quoi that makes this recipe work. I'll be making these again and again, not just for dad, but because I think I'm in love too.
Southern Egg Rolls with Peach-Red Pepper Chutney
Egg Rolls:
1/2 minced large vidalia onion
2-3 cloves minced garlic
1/2 lb chicken breast, cut into thin strips
1 lb kale or collard greens, uncooked (I use kale, but I'll try collards next time, because I think their stronger flavour will pair well with the chutney)
10 egg roll wrappers
1 tbsp cornstarch
Olive oil
Salt
Pepper
Begin by preheating the oven to 425F.
Wash the greens thoroughly, and wilt them in a saucepan over medium-high heat with a teeny dash of olive oil, just enough to keep them from sticking to the pan. When they're wilted, slide them out of the pan and onto a cutting board, then chop them into thin, short ribbons. Once they've been chopped, slide them onto folded paper towels, place another folded paper towel on top, and press as much moisture as you can out of the greens. Then transfer them to a colander and use your paper towels to mash them against the sides of the colander, to get even more moisture out. Leave them in the colander to drain while you finish the rest of the filling preparations. Sprinkle some salt over the draining greens to help them remove water, and to season them.
Mince the onion and slide it into the saucepan to saute over medium-high heat. When the onion is just beginning to brown, add the garlic and cook until the onion has caramelized. Reserve the onion and garlic in a medium-sized bowl, and use the same saucepan to cook the chicken, again, using only a teeny dash of olive oil to keep it from sticking. When the chicken is done all the way through and slightly browned, slide it out of the pan and onto the cutting board, where you can chop it into bite-sized strips. Add it to the onion and garlic, then dump in the greens. Use your hands to mix these ingredients thoroughly.
At this point, all the egg roll fillings are finished and you're ready to roll your wrappers. Do not begin rolling, however, until you've started your chutney over heat. Go chop all the stuff for that, then come back to this. Ready? Good.
Set a paper towel over your cutting board to help keep it dry. In a small dish, mix the tbsp of cornstarch with an equal amount of water, and stir until it has no lumps. Place an egg roll wrapper on the towel with one corner facing down, so that it looks like a diamond instead of a square. Brush the edges with the cornstarch mixture, to help them stick. Using a 1/4 cup measuring cup, scoop out a heaping 1/4 cup of filling and place it in the middle of the diamond. Arrange the filling into a thick horizontal line between the right and left corner of the diamond. Fold the bottom corner of the diamond upwards, to form a sort of pouch over the filling. Fold the right and left corners each a small way in, just enough to cover the filling (so that the roll takes on a long, thinnish shape). Finish by rolling the egg roll towards the top. Repeat until you've use all your filling (I usually get between seven and ten egg rolls out of this, depending on how much greens I'm using).
Take a baking sheet, and spray it with non-stick spray. Place the egg rolls evenly on the sheet, seam side down, and then spray the tops with the non-stick spray. Bake for 6-7 minutes on one side, then turn them over, spray the other side with cooking spray, and bake for 6-7 more minutes to finish. Serve while hot, with chutney on the side for dipping.
Because they're baked instead of fried, these tend to reheat pretty well in a toaster oven for lunch the next day, if you manage to have leftovers.
Servings: 2-3 if you use them as a meal like I do and everyone eats several, or 8-10 if you use them as appetizers and everyone eats only one.
Peach-Red Pepper Chutney
1 large, or two small peaches, peeled and minced (If you're using frozen peaches, go for about 1 1/2 cups)
1/2 vidalia onion, minced
1/2 red bell pepper, minced
1 tbsp fresh ginger, grated
Slightly less than 1/4 cup light brown sugar (I use a 1/4 cup measuring cup, but don't quite fill it all the way)
Slightly less than 1/4 cup regular sugar
2 tbsp cider vinegar
Add all ingredients together in a saucepan over medium heat and stir until they're mixed. Turn the heat down to medium-low (on my stove, this is a very thin boil) and cook for 20-30 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the chutney thickens and achieves a syrupy consistency. While it's cooking, go roll your egg rolls and let those cook. At first, the chutney will get more liquidy instead of less, since the sugar will encourage the peaches to release their juices, but eventually it will thicken back up. Use it immediately, or cool it to room temperature and refrigerate. It should keep 2-3 weeks in the fridge.
Note: If you're using fresh peaches, go for slightly underripe ones. The ones your grocery store sells are probably perfect. If you use fully ripe ones, they'll lose their consistency during cooking and get mushy.
Servings: see above, with the egg rolls.
Fast forward to three weeks ago. I was browsing through the cookbooks at my local Books-a-million. I'd been captivated by the plating in a cookbook by Morimoto (yes, the Iron Chef), and I still want to try the recipe for vegan mac-and-cheese in a Moosewood cookbook. But while browsing the regional cuisines shelf, I noticed that Magnolias had put out a cookbook, and lo and behold, there in a place of honor was the recipe for the egg rolls. "Well, that looks easy," I thought. "It's all ingredients I should be able to find around here, and none of the techniques look tough." But I still wasn't a fan of frying. So the egg rolls kind of percolated in the back of my mind for a few weeks, and today when I went grocery shopping, I swore to try them before the season for peaches went out. The key to my change of heart was a blog recipe I found for baked egg rolls, a genius invention that eliminated all the downsides I had been worrying about with this recipe.
They were amazing. They're very very good, a combination of chewy and crisp, earthy and light, with a dash of sweetness from the chutney holding everything together and making it sing. Seriously, don't make this without the chutney. It is the je ne sais quoi that makes this recipe work. I'll be making these again and again, not just for dad, but because I think I'm in love too.
Southern Egg Rolls with Peach-Red Pepper Chutney
Egg Rolls:
1/2 minced large vidalia onion
2-3 cloves minced garlic
1/2 lb chicken breast, cut into thin strips
1 lb kale or collard greens, uncooked (I use kale, but I'll try collards next time, because I think their stronger flavour will pair well with the chutney)
10 egg roll wrappers
1 tbsp cornstarch
Olive oil
Salt
Pepper
Begin by preheating the oven to 425F.
Wash the greens thoroughly, and wilt them in a saucepan over medium-high heat with a teeny dash of olive oil, just enough to keep them from sticking to the pan. When they're wilted, slide them out of the pan and onto a cutting board, then chop them into thin, short ribbons. Once they've been chopped, slide them onto folded paper towels, place another folded paper towel on top, and press as much moisture as you can out of the greens. Then transfer them to a colander and use your paper towels to mash them against the sides of the colander, to get even more moisture out. Leave them in the colander to drain while you finish the rest of the filling preparations. Sprinkle some salt over the draining greens to help them remove water, and to season them.
Mince the onion and slide it into the saucepan to saute over medium-high heat. When the onion is just beginning to brown, add the garlic and cook until the onion has caramelized. Reserve the onion and garlic in a medium-sized bowl, and use the same saucepan to cook the chicken, again, using only a teeny dash of olive oil to keep it from sticking. When the chicken is done all the way through and slightly browned, slide it out of the pan and onto the cutting board, where you can chop it into bite-sized strips. Add it to the onion and garlic, then dump in the greens. Use your hands to mix these ingredients thoroughly.
At this point, all the egg roll fillings are finished and you're ready to roll your wrappers. Do not begin rolling, however, until you've started your chutney over heat. Go chop all the stuff for that, then come back to this. Ready? Good.
Set a paper towel over your cutting board to help keep it dry. In a small dish, mix the tbsp of cornstarch with an equal amount of water, and stir until it has no lumps. Place an egg roll wrapper on the towel with one corner facing down, so that it looks like a diamond instead of a square. Brush the edges with the cornstarch mixture, to help them stick. Using a 1/4 cup measuring cup, scoop out a heaping 1/4 cup of filling and place it in the middle of the diamond. Arrange the filling into a thick horizontal line between the right and left corner of the diamond. Fold the bottom corner of the diamond upwards, to form a sort of pouch over the filling. Fold the right and left corners each a small way in, just enough to cover the filling (so that the roll takes on a long, thinnish shape). Finish by rolling the egg roll towards the top. Repeat until you've use all your filling (I usually get between seven and ten egg rolls out of this, depending on how much greens I'm using).
Take a baking sheet, and spray it with non-stick spray. Place the egg rolls evenly on the sheet, seam side down, and then spray the tops with the non-stick spray. Bake for 6-7 minutes on one side, then turn them over, spray the other side with cooking spray, and bake for 6-7 more minutes to finish. Serve while hot, with chutney on the side for dipping.
Because they're baked instead of fried, these tend to reheat pretty well in a toaster oven for lunch the next day, if you manage to have leftovers.
Servings: 2-3 if you use them as a meal like I do and everyone eats several, or 8-10 if you use them as appetizers and everyone eats only one.
Peach-Red Pepper Chutney
1 large, or two small peaches, peeled and minced (If you're using frozen peaches, go for about 1 1/2 cups)
1/2 vidalia onion, minced
1/2 red bell pepper, minced
1 tbsp fresh ginger, grated
Slightly less than 1/4 cup light brown sugar (I use a 1/4 cup measuring cup, but don't quite fill it all the way)
Slightly less than 1/4 cup regular sugar
2 tbsp cider vinegar
Add all ingredients together in a saucepan over medium heat and stir until they're mixed. Turn the heat down to medium-low (on my stove, this is a very thin boil) and cook for 20-30 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the chutney thickens and achieves a syrupy consistency. While it's cooking, go roll your egg rolls and let those cook. At first, the chutney will get more liquidy instead of less, since the sugar will encourage the peaches to release their juices, but eventually it will thicken back up. Use it immediately, or cool it to room temperature and refrigerate. It should keep 2-3 weeks in the fridge.
Note: If you're using fresh peaches, go for slightly underripe ones. The ones your grocery store sells are probably perfect. If you use fully ripe ones, they'll lose their consistency during cooking and get mushy.
Servings: see above, with the egg rolls.
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
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Hot Roasted Red Pepper Hummus
When I was a kid, there was a running contest in our house: the kid who could find the hottest hot sauce and bring a sample of it home for my father would win $5. Your hot sauce would be diligently compared to the previous reigning winner, and it quickly became very difficult to find a sauce that would make the grade. My father loved spicy foods. (For the record, the current winner is a "psycho" grade sauce from a restaurant in Orlando, Florida. We brought it home in a styrofoam cup, but almost immediately had to transfer it to a plastic bottle because the sauce ate through the cup.)
I personally never caught the hot foods bug, though. To this day, while I love my curries well enough, I've never gone in for the burn-your-mouth southwestern style of cooking. Mexico can keep its chipotles and habaneros, I certainly don't like them.
But today I decided to try a recipe that promised to jazz up hummus, and I like hummus enough that I was willing to be jazzed. Even if it involved peppers. To make it even more promising, the hummus in question would let me make use of the red and yellow bell peppers that my tiny kitchen garden has just started to produce. I was sold. Bring on the hummus.
And it turns out, I like it! So here's the recipe, one of the rare and elusive hot food recipes from Joye.
Hot Roasted Red Pepper Hummus
1 can chickpeas (15 oz), drained
2 red bell peppers (I use peppers from my garden, so I use 4 very small peppers)
1 tsp chipotle in adobo (more if you like it really spicy, leave it out if you hate heat in your food)
3 cloves garlic, chopped into chunks
2 tbsp parsley
1 tbsp oregano
1 tbsp basil
1 tsp paprika
¼ medium onion, rough chopped
2 tsp cumin
3 tbsp lemon juice
Nonstick grilling spray (olive oil spray also works)
(Optional) 1 cup shredded parmesan, loosely packed
Pepper
Salt
Remove the seeds from the bell peppers. Spray a nonstick pan with grilling spray and sit it over medium-high heat. Lay the bell peppers in the pan skin-side-down, and roast them until the skin develops black spots. While the peppers are roasting, chop the onion and garlic. When the peppers are done, chop them into chunks to make it easier on your food processor. Add all the ingredients except the salt and pepper (and the cheese, if you're using it) to the food processor, and process until smooth. Taste and season (warning: season carefully, because a little salt goes a long way in hummus. Be conservative about your salt additions). If you need more moisture, add water, or if you like your hummus a little smoother, add a hint of olive oil to smooth it out. This is the point to dump in the cheese if that's your thing. Process again to mix in the new additions, taste, and serve. It’s good warm, room temp, or cool. I serve with carrots or snow peas for dipping, but toasted pita triangles are good too.
Servings: 10-15. This makes a LOT more than you’d think it does. One can of chickpeas goes a long way.
I personally never caught the hot foods bug, though. To this day, while I love my curries well enough, I've never gone in for the burn-your-mouth southwestern style of cooking. Mexico can keep its chipotles and habaneros, I certainly don't like them.
But today I decided to try a recipe that promised to jazz up hummus, and I like hummus enough that I was willing to be jazzed. Even if it involved peppers. To make it even more promising, the hummus in question would let me make use of the red and yellow bell peppers that my tiny kitchen garden has just started to produce. I was sold. Bring on the hummus.
And it turns out, I like it! So here's the recipe, one of the rare and elusive hot food recipes from Joye.
Hot Roasted Red Pepper Hummus
1 can chickpeas (15 oz), drained
2 red bell peppers (I use peppers from my garden, so I use 4 very small peppers)
1 tsp chipotle in adobo (more if you like it really spicy, leave it out if you hate heat in your food)
3 cloves garlic, chopped into chunks
2 tbsp parsley
1 tbsp oregano
1 tbsp basil
1 tsp paprika
¼ medium onion, rough chopped
2 tsp cumin
3 tbsp lemon juice
Nonstick grilling spray (olive oil spray also works)
(Optional) 1 cup shredded parmesan, loosely packed
Pepper
Salt
Remove the seeds from the bell peppers. Spray a nonstick pan with grilling spray and sit it over medium-high heat. Lay the bell peppers in the pan skin-side-down, and roast them until the skin develops black spots. While the peppers are roasting, chop the onion and garlic. When the peppers are done, chop them into chunks to make it easier on your food processor. Add all the ingredients except the salt and pepper (and the cheese, if you're using it) to the food processor, and process until smooth. Taste and season (warning: season carefully, because a little salt goes a long way in hummus. Be conservative about your salt additions). If you need more moisture, add water, or if you like your hummus a little smoother, add a hint of olive oil to smooth it out. This is the point to dump in the cheese if that's your thing. Process again to mix in the new additions, taste, and serve. It’s good warm, room temp, or cool. I serve with carrots or snow peas for dipping, but toasted pita triangles are good too.
Servings: 10-15. This makes a LOT more than you’d think it does. One can of chickpeas goes a long way.
Baba Ghanouj
I’ve been on a dip streak lately, so one I’m posting a recipe for baba ghanouj (that spelling… every person I meet spells this dip differently!) that I adapted from a college friend of mine. She was in the hospitality school at our university to become a chef, and our dorm served as her willing guinea pigs. This is a version of her recipe, cut back a little on the lemon juice and with the addition of the mint. What can I say, I like mint. I also like almonds, so even though it’s probably heresy to any actual middle eastern person, I sometimes chop those and add them too. Added bonus: this dip is both absurdly low-cal, and vegan. I've been trying to eat less meat lately (meat is expensive!), so a veggie-only dip is good for me.
Baba Ghanouj
1 eggplant
3 cloves garlic
1/8 cup lemon juice (Give or take. I usually just fill a ¼ cup measure about half full, so it’s never exact.)
1 heaping tbsp tahini
1 tsp ground cumin
(Optional) ½ tsp fresh mint (my plant is peppermint, so I use that, but it doesn’t matter)
(Optional) ¼ cup finely chopped almonds (the “finely” here is important. Your food processor will NOT appreciate large pieces of almonds.)
Salt
Pepper
Preheat the oven to 430F and slice the eggplant into ½ inch thick slices. Spray a baking tray with nonstick grilling spray (the grilling spray takes more heat; normal nonstick spray will burn) and arrange the eggplant in a single layer on the tray. For extra reassurance, you can spray both sides of each eggplant slice with the grilling spray too. Bake the eggplant for 30-40 minutes or until the middle of all the slices have sunk down and turned softly brown. Remove the eggplant from the oven and use a paring knife to peel each slice. Chop the garlic into chunks. Dump the slices into a food processor and add the lemon juice, tahini, cumin, salt, pepper, and any other additives you may like to the processor as well. Process until smooth (this may take a while, especially for the eggplant seeds), scraping down the sides of the processor once or twice to make sure that all the bits get chopped up. Serve chilled or room temperature, with veggies or toasted pita slices. I like carrots and sweet peas for dipping, but supposedly broccoli, cauliflower, and celery are good too.
Servings: 8-10
Baba Ghanouj
1 eggplant
3 cloves garlic
1/8 cup lemon juice (Give or take. I usually just fill a ¼ cup measure about half full, so it’s never exact.)
1 heaping tbsp tahini
1 tsp ground cumin
(Optional) ½ tsp fresh mint (my plant is peppermint, so I use that, but it doesn’t matter)
(Optional) ¼ cup finely chopped almonds (the “finely” here is important. Your food processor will NOT appreciate large pieces of almonds.)
Salt
Pepper
Preheat the oven to 430F and slice the eggplant into ½ inch thick slices. Spray a baking tray with nonstick grilling spray (the grilling spray takes more heat; normal nonstick spray will burn) and arrange the eggplant in a single layer on the tray. For extra reassurance, you can spray both sides of each eggplant slice with the grilling spray too. Bake the eggplant for 30-40 minutes or until the middle of all the slices have sunk down and turned softly brown. Remove the eggplant from the oven and use a paring knife to peel each slice. Chop the garlic into chunks. Dump the slices into a food processor and add the lemon juice, tahini, cumin, salt, pepper, and any other additives you may like to the processor as well. Process until smooth (this may take a while, especially for the eggplant seeds), scraping down the sides of the processor once or twice to make sure that all the bits get chopped up. Serve chilled or room temperature, with veggies or toasted pita slices. I like carrots and sweet peas for dipping, but supposedly broccoli, cauliflower, and celery are good too.
Servings: 8-10
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Gourmet Green Bean Casserole
I like older recipes that you can dress up and get creative with, much like the "Take ordinary, typically bad food and make something special" challenges on Top Chef. I was fiddling around with a few ideas one day, and found myself looking at green bean casserole. The idea was good: beans and onions, with some mushrooms and a little crunch. I remained unsatisfied with my makeover efforts, though, until I discovered a recipe online for a take on green bean casserole that looked like it had possibilities. Still, I wouldn't be me if I didn't love to fiddle with peoples' perfectly good recipes, so I altered it a little, tossed in some cheese on a whim, cut the chopping time by using frozen beans, that sort of thing. And here it is, the green bean casserole that's fancy enough for me to make on Christmas.
Gourmet Green Bean Casserole
1 1/2 lbs green beans, frozen
3 cloves garlic
1/2 lb (8 oz) baby bella mushrooms (shitake work also)
1 SMALL pinch ancho chile powder
3/4 cup chicken stock (broth works also)
2 tbsp flour
1 tbsp dry sherry or white wine
1/2 cup whipping cream
1/4 cup Jarlsberg cheese, finely grated (gruyere works also)
1 1/2 slices whole wheat bread
1/2 can french fried onions
1 tbsp margerine or butter substitute
Salt
Pepper
Preheat oven to 400F.
Begin by boiling a pot of water with 1 tbsp salt in it. I know, it seems like a lot, but it's right, trust me. The beans don't absorb much, so don't be shy. Add the frozen beans when the water boils, then bring the pot back to a boil and let the beans cook for 5-10 minutes until they're tender but not wilting. Drain in a colander and run cool water over them to stop the cooking process, then let them sit while you finish the rest of the recipe.
Wash your mushrooms and tear them into pieces (tearing gives a nice textural contrast to the machine-sliced 'shrooms in canned casseroles). Throw them in a pan with a teeny dash of olive oil, and let them saute over medium-high heat while you dice your garlic. Add the garlic to the pan when you get done with it, along with a little salt, some pepper, and the pinch of chile powder.
While the mushrooms are cooking, whisk the flour into your chicken stock, making sure there are no lumps. When the mushrooms are golden brown and beginning to render their juices, add the stock to the pan along with the sherry or wine. Turn the heat on the burner down to medium and stir until the sauce thickens (this should happen pretty quickly, so keep an eye on it). When it's thick, add the cream and the Jarlsberg to the pan and stir to mix. Stir occasionally until this mixture thickens.
When you've got a nice thick cream sauce, add the beans into the pan and mix the whole thing together. Sit the pan off the heat for a moment while you make the topping.
To make the topping, pulse the bread and the margerine together in a food processor until it turns into moist little crumbs. Dump these out into a bowl, and add the fried onions to them, then use your hands to mix the onions and bread crumbs together.
To assemble the whole casserole, get a medium-large casserole dish and pour in the bean-mushroom mixture from the pan, spreading it into an even layer. Sprinkle the breadcrumb-onion mix on evenly top. Bake at 400F for 15 minutes. Keep an eye on this, and take the casserole out when the topping turns a deep golden brown, but before it burns. Serve immediately.
Servings: 8-10.
Gourmet Green Bean Casserole
1 1/2 lbs green beans, frozen
3 cloves garlic
1/2 lb (8 oz) baby bella mushrooms (shitake work also)
1 SMALL pinch ancho chile powder
3/4 cup chicken stock (broth works also)
2 tbsp flour
1 tbsp dry sherry or white wine
1/2 cup whipping cream
1/4 cup Jarlsberg cheese, finely grated (gruyere works also)
1 1/2 slices whole wheat bread
1/2 can french fried onions
1 tbsp margerine or butter substitute
Salt
Pepper
Preheat oven to 400F.
Begin by boiling a pot of water with 1 tbsp salt in it. I know, it seems like a lot, but it's right, trust me. The beans don't absorb much, so don't be shy. Add the frozen beans when the water boils, then bring the pot back to a boil and let the beans cook for 5-10 minutes until they're tender but not wilting. Drain in a colander and run cool water over them to stop the cooking process, then let them sit while you finish the rest of the recipe.
Wash your mushrooms and tear them into pieces (tearing gives a nice textural contrast to the machine-sliced 'shrooms in canned casseroles). Throw them in a pan with a teeny dash of olive oil, and let them saute over medium-high heat while you dice your garlic. Add the garlic to the pan when you get done with it, along with a little salt, some pepper, and the pinch of chile powder.
While the mushrooms are cooking, whisk the flour into your chicken stock, making sure there are no lumps. When the mushrooms are golden brown and beginning to render their juices, add the stock to the pan along with the sherry or wine. Turn the heat on the burner down to medium and stir until the sauce thickens (this should happen pretty quickly, so keep an eye on it). When it's thick, add the cream and the Jarlsberg to the pan and stir to mix. Stir occasionally until this mixture thickens.
When you've got a nice thick cream sauce, add the beans into the pan and mix the whole thing together. Sit the pan off the heat for a moment while you make the topping.
To make the topping, pulse the bread and the margerine together in a food processor until it turns into moist little crumbs. Dump these out into a bowl, and add the fried onions to them, then use your hands to mix the onions and bread crumbs together.
To assemble the whole casserole, get a medium-large casserole dish and pour in the bean-mushroom mixture from the pan, spreading it into an even layer. Sprinkle the breadcrumb-onion mix on evenly top. Bake at 400F for 15 minutes. Keep an eye on this, and take the casserole out when the topping turns a deep golden brown, but before it burns. Serve immediately.
Servings: 8-10.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Tomato-Egg Florentine Casserole
This is a pretty simple dish that tastes like comfort food to me, and uses stuff I almost always have on hand. The recipe is a liberal adaptation of one I got from Orangette here, and which she credits as her take on a recipe published in the Splendid Table Weeknight Kitchen. The Splendid Table recipe, in turn, was adapted from a recipe by the great Jacques Pepin in his home cook's staple, Jacques Pepin Fast Food My Way. So this little dish took a convoluted route to my table. It's sort of like playing Six Degrees to Kevin Bacon with food. I'd like to see the original Pepin recipe now, since I'm betting my version in no way resembles his with this many sources between us.
Strange pedigree aside, the dish tastes good, and that's what's important, right? It works in a 'great tastes that go together great' kind of way. The classic Florentine combination of pasta, tomato, and spinach gets a pick-me-up from the flavour of egg and a crust of Gruyere. I haven't tried it this way yet, but I'd bet you could throw some gently sauted artichoke hearts in here too and it would be delicious. It's a forgiving kind of dish like that. Or, if you don't have the spinach, leave that out and it still works. That's how comfort food goes: it's for those days when the last thing you need is something going wrong in the kitchen.
Tomato-Egg Florentine Casserole
5 large eggs
2 handfuls (1-1 1/2 cups) short-cut pasta. I like rotini, but it doesn't really matter as long as you're not using spaghetti or something long like that.
1 tbsp olive oil
2 medium yellow onions, roughly diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
3/4 tsp dried thyme (don't get the fresh stuff, the spice-rack version works great)
1 14 oz can whole tomatoes, undrained
1/8 lb spinach (or half of the 1/4 bags my grocery carries)
1 cup grated gruyere
Salt
Pepper
Begin by putting the raw eggs in a pot, running enough water in the pot to cover them, then sitting them over medium-high heat until the water boils. When it boils, set a timer for 9 minutes, then remove the pot from the heat and carefully drain the hot water out. Run cold water over the eggs, drain that, run more cold water over the eggs, and throw in a handful of ice chips to cool the water further. Let the eggs sit there and cool while you work on the rest of the recipe.
While the eggs are coming to a boil, put another pot on to boil with water for the pasta. Salt the water, and when it boils (this should be approximately the same time as the eggs coming to boil) add the pasta. Cook the pasta for about five minutes, then drain it. You want the pasta slightly underdone, since it will absorb some juice when you bake the whole casserole.
While the pasta and eggs are cooking, set the oven to preheat to 400F.
Add the onions and olive oil to a large sauce pan, and cook over medium heat until the onions turn soft and translucent. Add the garlic and let that saute for about two minutes (I usually take the eggs and pasta off during this stage), then add the tomatoes and their juices. Use the side of your spatula or a wooden spoon to break apart the tomatoes into manageable pieces, and simmer the tomato-onion mixture for another two minutes. Add the thyme, and taste the mixture. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Bring the whole tomato mixture to a boil, then remove it from the heat. Gently fold in the spinach (you may need to do this in handfuls since the spinach takes up a lot of space before it wilts.
Now it's time to assemble the casserole. You should have the tomato-onion-spinach mixture, the cooled eggs, and the drained pasta. Grab the dish that you'll be using to bake the casserole. I use a souffle dish with tall sides, but a shorter and wider square casserole dish would probably work just as well. Slice the eggs into quarter wedges, and place them in the bottom of the dish. Pour the pasta into the same pan as the tomato-spinach mixture, and stir briefly to mix that all up. Pour the tomato-spinach-pasta mix over the eggs. On top of everything, sprinkle your cheese. I like to be generous with the cheese, and usually use more than the cup I've called for here.
Once the casserole is assembled, stick it in the oven and bake for 15 minutes. Next, crack the oven door and turn on the broiler on high for 4 minutes, to put a nice crust on the cheese. Serve immediately.
Servings: 6-8
Strange pedigree aside, the dish tastes good, and that's what's important, right? It works in a 'great tastes that go together great' kind of way. The classic Florentine combination of pasta, tomato, and spinach gets a pick-me-up from the flavour of egg and a crust of Gruyere. I haven't tried it this way yet, but I'd bet you could throw some gently sauted artichoke hearts in here too and it would be delicious. It's a forgiving kind of dish like that. Or, if you don't have the spinach, leave that out and it still works. That's how comfort food goes: it's for those days when the last thing you need is something going wrong in the kitchen.
Tomato-Egg Florentine Casserole
5 large eggs
2 handfuls (1-1 1/2 cups) short-cut pasta. I like rotini, but it doesn't really matter as long as you're not using spaghetti or something long like that.
1 tbsp olive oil
2 medium yellow onions, roughly diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
3/4 tsp dried thyme (don't get the fresh stuff, the spice-rack version works great)
1 14 oz can whole tomatoes, undrained
1/8 lb spinach (or half of the 1/4 bags my grocery carries)
1 cup grated gruyere
Salt
Pepper
Begin by putting the raw eggs in a pot, running enough water in the pot to cover them, then sitting them over medium-high heat until the water boils. When it boils, set a timer for 9 minutes, then remove the pot from the heat and carefully drain the hot water out. Run cold water over the eggs, drain that, run more cold water over the eggs, and throw in a handful of ice chips to cool the water further. Let the eggs sit there and cool while you work on the rest of the recipe.
While the eggs are coming to a boil, put another pot on to boil with water for the pasta. Salt the water, and when it boils (this should be approximately the same time as the eggs coming to boil) add the pasta. Cook the pasta for about five minutes, then drain it. You want the pasta slightly underdone, since it will absorb some juice when you bake the whole casserole.
While the pasta and eggs are cooking, set the oven to preheat to 400F.
Add the onions and olive oil to a large sauce pan, and cook over medium heat until the onions turn soft and translucent. Add the garlic and let that saute for about two minutes (I usually take the eggs and pasta off during this stage), then add the tomatoes and their juices. Use the side of your spatula or a wooden spoon to break apart the tomatoes into manageable pieces, and simmer the tomato-onion mixture for another two minutes. Add the thyme, and taste the mixture. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Bring the whole tomato mixture to a boil, then remove it from the heat. Gently fold in the spinach (you may need to do this in handfuls since the spinach takes up a lot of space before it wilts.
Now it's time to assemble the casserole. You should have the tomato-onion-spinach mixture, the cooled eggs, and the drained pasta. Grab the dish that you'll be using to bake the casserole. I use a souffle dish with tall sides, but a shorter and wider square casserole dish would probably work just as well. Slice the eggs into quarter wedges, and place them in the bottom of the dish. Pour the pasta into the same pan as the tomato-spinach mixture, and stir briefly to mix that all up. Pour the tomato-spinach-pasta mix over the eggs. On top of everything, sprinkle your cheese. I like to be generous with the cheese, and usually use more than the cup I've called for here.
Once the casserole is assembled, stick it in the oven and bake for 15 minutes. Next, crack the oven door and turn on the broiler on high for 4 minutes, to put a nice crust on the cheese. Serve immediately.
Servings: 6-8
Friday, April 18, 2008
Steamed Artichokes in Lemon Butter Sauce
I'm almost embarrassed to be posting this recipe, since it's not really even a recipe. It's just directions about how to cook an artichoke, which until recently I'd never done. But the last few weeks, I've been eating artichokes pretty frequently. They're just coming into season now: round and green and prickly. A single artichoke is more than enough for a meal for me, and it makes me feel like I'm being healthy (even though it's probably enough butter to negate any healthiness the artichoke may bring). They're also fun. I will always like veggies that I can eat with my fingers and not feel like I'm being uncouth. They're interactive food, and they're easier to interact with than, say, shrimp or oysters. All the fun, none of the hassle.
Steamed Artichokes in Lemon Butter Sauce
1 artichoke (pick your artichokes by how heavy they are, with tightly knit leaves)
2 tbsp butter
4 tbsp lemon or lime juice
1/2 cup white wine (just eyeball it)
Salt
Pepper
Steam the artichoke by cutting off the stem close as close to the artichoke as possible. Next, cut off the tip of the artichoke; the bits that are nothing but prickly and are at the end opposite the stem. This may be difficult; I usually use a serrated knife, and even then I may require kitchen shears to get the last few stubborn leaves off. A chef's knife (even a very sharp chef's knife) really doesn't cuts it when it comes to artichoke tips. Anyway, saw that off.
Boil a couple inches of water in a pot, and set a vegetable steamer on top of it. If you don't have a vegetable steamer (as I didn't for a long time), use an aluminum pie plate, turned upside down to sit in the water, and with lots of holes poked in the bottom to let the steam through. Set the artichoke tip-side down in the steamer, cover it, and let it steam over a low boil for 40 minutes or so. I wouldn't go over that, because over-steaming leaches out the flavours.
Towards the end of the steaming process, simmer the wine in a small saucepan, over medium heat, and melt the butter into it. Stir in the lemon juice, and let the whole thing simmer for a minute or so. Taste it, then add salt and pepper to taste. Mine always needs quite a bit of salt. I add a little more than I think it needs and it turns out perfect, because artichokes taste really good with salt.
Serve without utensils, and pull the artichoke leaves one by one off the artichoke. Dip them in the sauce, and eat the meat off the underside of the leaves. When you get to the heart, cut out the feathery bits to leave only the base of the heart. That too can be eaten with the sauce.
Servings: 1
(Also? 20th recipe, whoo!)
Steamed Artichokes in Lemon Butter Sauce
1 artichoke (pick your artichokes by how heavy they are, with tightly knit leaves)
2 tbsp butter
4 tbsp lemon or lime juice
1/2 cup white wine (just eyeball it)
Salt
Pepper
Steam the artichoke by cutting off the stem close as close to the artichoke as possible. Next, cut off the tip of the artichoke; the bits that are nothing but prickly and are at the end opposite the stem. This may be difficult; I usually use a serrated knife, and even then I may require kitchen shears to get the last few stubborn leaves off. A chef's knife (even a very sharp chef's knife) really doesn't cuts it when it comes to artichoke tips. Anyway, saw that off.
Boil a couple inches of water in a pot, and set a vegetable steamer on top of it. If you don't have a vegetable steamer (as I didn't for a long time), use an aluminum pie plate, turned upside down to sit in the water, and with lots of holes poked in the bottom to let the steam through. Set the artichoke tip-side down in the steamer, cover it, and let it steam over a low boil for 40 minutes or so. I wouldn't go over that, because over-steaming leaches out the flavours.
Towards the end of the steaming process, simmer the wine in a small saucepan, over medium heat, and melt the butter into it. Stir in the lemon juice, and let the whole thing simmer for a minute or so. Taste it, then add salt and pepper to taste. Mine always needs quite a bit of salt. I add a little more than I think it needs and it turns out perfect, because artichokes taste really good with salt.
Serve without utensils, and pull the artichoke leaves one by one off the artichoke. Dip them in the sauce, and eat the meat off the underside of the leaves. When you get to the heart, cut out the feathery bits to leave only the base of the heart. That too can be eaten with the sauce.
Servings: 1
(Also? 20th recipe, whoo!)
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Potato-Pear Salad with Rosemary Vinaigrette Dressing
This recipe was designed to be served alongside pork tenderloin with pear glaze, and I'm pretty proud of it. It was a riff on something I saw on Top Chef, and it came out spectacularly well. The salad is a perfect combination of textures and flavours, and the dressing ties all of it together harmoniously, as well as going beautifully with the pork. I suppose I should expect it from a good chef, but this really is a beautifully balanced meal. I've been to fairly expensive restaurants that didn't show this much cohesiveness of flavour across a plate.
I recommend mixing the dressing first in this recipe, as it's something that can be done in advance then stuck in the fridge until it's needed. If you do this, microwave the dressing for 15-30 seconds to warm it a little before pouring it over the meat and salad; you don't want it to cool those down.
Potato-Pear Salad
3 medium russet potatoes, washed and diced into 1/2 inch cubes
1 1/2 red pears (use the other half of the pear you used to make the pear glaze)
1/2 lb green beans, rinsed and snapped into bite-sized pieces
1/2 medium red onion, sliced thinly
4 slices crispy bacon, pan fried then drained
2-3 tbsp olive oil
Salt
Pepper
Preheat the oven to 350F. If you're doing this at the same time as the pork tenderloin, you can put them both in the oven at the same time.
In a large bowl, toss the potatoes with the olive oil, salt and pepper until all cubes are thoroughly coated. Spray a foil-lined baking sheet with non-stick spray, then spread the potatoes onto it in an even single layer. Roast at 350F for 20-25 minutes, or until the largest potato chunks are soft all the way through, and the potatoes have begin to take on a golden crispness.
Towards the end of when the potatoes are roasting, blanch the green beans in salted water for about 5 minutes. The goal is crisp, but not raw. Err on the crisper side here. Drain the pot of beans, and add a handful of ice to the beans, then run water over them. This will shock the beans, which both softens them further and stops them from cooking. Once the beans have cooled, drain the pot again and remove any remaining chunks of ice. Reserve the beans.
While the beans are blanching, get out a small sauce pan, add a splash of olive oil, and saute the onion over medium heat until the white part turns translucent. Don't saute too much, you want to keep the pretty purple color. The goal is just to take a little of the bite out of the flavour here.
Dice the pears into 1/2 inch chucks, about the same size as the potatoes.
When the potatoes are done, taste one for seasoning and add salt if appropriate. They should taste a little like french fries. Dump the still-hot potatoes into a serving bowl, and add the pear, onion, and green beans. Crumble the bacon slices over the other ingredients, and toss the whole thing. Serve immediately, with dressing.
Note: it's important that the salad be the last thing you finish before you plate and serve the meal. If it's allowed to sit for too long, the pear juices will soften the crisp roasted outside of the potatoes, which detracts from the contrasting textures of the salad.
Servings: 6-8
Rosemary Vinaigrette Dressing
1/4 cup red wine vinegar
2 egg yolks
1 tbsp Dijon mustard
About 1/2 cup olive oil
1 tsp soy sauce
2 tsp honey
1 1/2 sprig fresh rosemary, chopped as finely as you can get it. Use a spice grinder, if you've got one.
Salt
Pepper
In a small mixing bowl, whisk together the vinegar, egg yolks, and Dijon until homogeneous. Add olive oil slowly, whisking constantly, until the mixture thickens a little. If in doubt, taste it. (Tasting constantly is good policy throughout making this dressing.)
Add the soy sauce, honey, and rosemary to the mixture, and whisk those in completely. Taste it, then add salt and pepper to season properly.
Refrigerate until needed, and whisk once more before drizzling over salad and meat just to make sure it's mixed.
Servings: I have no idea. It was plenty for 6-8 servings of meat and salad, though.
I recommend mixing the dressing first in this recipe, as it's something that can be done in advance then stuck in the fridge until it's needed. If you do this, microwave the dressing for 15-30 seconds to warm it a little before pouring it over the meat and salad; you don't want it to cool those down.
Potato-Pear Salad
3 medium russet potatoes, washed and diced into 1/2 inch cubes
1 1/2 red pears (use the other half of the pear you used to make the pear glaze)
1/2 lb green beans, rinsed and snapped into bite-sized pieces
1/2 medium red onion, sliced thinly
4 slices crispy bacon, pan fried then drained
2-3 tbsp olive oil
Salt
Pepper
Preheat the oven to 350F. If you're doing this at the same time as the pork tenderloin, you can put them both in the oven at the same time.
In a large bowl, toss the potatoes with the olive oil, salt and pepper until all cubes are thoroughly coated. Spray a foil-lined baking sheet with non-stick spray, then spread the potatoes onto it in an even single layer. Roast at 350F for 20-25 minutes, or until the largest potato chunks are soft all the way through, and the potatoes have begin to take on a golden crispness.
Towards the end of when the potatoes are roasting, blanch the green beans in salted water for about 5 minutes. The goal is crisp, but not raw. Err on the crisper side here. Drain the pot of beans, and add a handful of ice to the beans, then run water over them. This will shock the beans, which both softens them further and stops them from cooking. Once the beans have cooled, drain the pot again and remove any remaining chunks of ice. Reserve the beans.
While the beans are blanching, get out a small sauce pan, add a splash of olive oil, and saute the onion over medium heat until the white part turns translucent. Don't saute too much, you want to keep the pretty purple color. The goal is just to take a little of the bite out of the flavour here.
Dice the pears into 1/2 inch chucks, about the same size as the potatoes.
When the potatoes are done, taste one for seasoning and add salt if appropriate. They should taste a little like french fries. Dump the still-hot potatoes into a serving bowl, and add the pear, onion, and green beans. Crumble the bacon slices over the other ingredients, and toss the whole thing. Serve immediately, with dressing.
Note: it's important that the salad be the last thing you finish before you plate and serve the meal. If it's allowed to sit for too long, the pear juices will soften the crisp roasted outside of the potatoes, which detracts from the contrasting textures of the salad.
Servings: 6-8
Rosemary Vinaigrette Dressing
1/4 cup red wine vinegar
2 egg yolks
1 tbsp Dijon mustard
About 1/2 cup olive oil
1 tsp soy sauce
2 tsp honey
1 1/2 sprig fresh rosemary, chopped as finely as you can get it. Use a spice grinder, if you've got one.
Salt
Pepper
In a small mixing bowl, whisk together the vinegar, egg yolks, and Dijon until homogeneous. Add olive oil slowly, whisking constantly, until the mixture thickens a little. If in doubt, taste it. (Tasting constantly is good policy throughout making this dressing.)
Add the soy sauce, honey, and rosemary to the mixture, and whisk those in completely. Taste it, then add salt and pepper to season properly.
Refrigerate until needed, and whisk once more before drizzling over salad and meat just to make sure it's mixed.
Servings: I have no idea. It was plenty for 6-8 servings of meat and salad, though.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Scalloped Turnips
Starches are passe in the world of today's health-conscious diet. Most people eschew bread and the humble potato in favor of green veggies, fruits, and lean dairy. And this is as it should be. A girl can eat all the carrots she wants, and generally not gain a pound if she doesn't dip them in anything.
But sometimes, I long for the days before we knew what a calorie was. Back when classic French technique was the only way to go, and butter, cream, and pasta (starch! lovely starch!) were key ingredients in every self-respecting cook's repertoire. Before milk came in lowfat versions, and before margerine and "spreads" made their molecularly altered way into our refrigerators. This is a recipe for those days. It's pretty simple: boil some starches, make a roux, combine, add cheese. Presto! Scalloped potatoes, or turnips, or even pasta, if that's the starch that floats your boat.
I made it today with turnips, because I had one sad, neglected turnip sitting in my crisper waiting to be turned into something good. Turnips aren't what everyone thinks of when they make gratins or scallops, but I like it, because it's just enough of something different to add pizazz to a dish. If you've grown up with a child's aversion to turnips (because someone overboiled them, or didn't season them, or served them plain without any dressing, etc), give this one a try. It's like scalloped potatoes without the boring.
Scalloped Turnips
1 large turnip, or 2 medium ones, peeled
2 tbsp unsalted butter
2 tbsp flour
1 cup milk
Salt
Pepper
1/2 cup grated cheddar cheese (or more, if you like cheese as much as I do)
Optional: 3 slices bacon
Start by slicing the turnips very thinly. Fill a pot with salted water and boil the turnip slices for 15 or 20 minutes, until they're soft. Taste a turnip at this point, I think they're good just like this. But we'll be adding stuff to them. Pour the potatoes into a gratin dish (or a small baking dish).
Preheat the oven to 250F. In a medium saucepan, melt the butter over low heat. Add the flour one tbsp at a time, and whisk into a roux. Add the milk, turn the heat up to medium, and stir until the mixture has thickened into a simple white sauce. On my stove, this takes between 5 and 10 minutes. Taste the sauce, and add salt until it's properly seasoned. Keep a spare hand with the salt, it's easy to go overboard and end up with a salty sauce (ew!).
Pour the finished white sauce over the turnips. Sprinkle the cheese on top, and bake for 10 minutes, or until the cheese is melted and the sauce has distributed itself throughout the dish.
If you're feeling extra industrious (or if you've just got a hankering for bacon), pan fry up some bacon while the dish is in the oven, then crumble it into bits and sprinkle those liberally on top. Yum!
Servings: 2 as a main dish or 4 as a side
But sometimes, I long for the days before we knew what a calorie was. Back when classic French technique was the only way to go, and butter, cream, and pasta (starch! lovely starch!) were key ingredients in every self-respecting cook's repertoire. Before milk came in lowfat versions, and before margerine and "spreads" made their molecularly altered way into our refrigerators. This is a recipe for those days. It's pretty simple: boil some starches, make a roux, combine, add cheese. Presto! Scalloped potatoes, or turnips, or even pasta, if that's the starch that floats your boat.
I made it today with turnips, because I had one sad, neglected turnip sitting in my crisper waiting to be turned into something good. Turnips aren't what everyone thinks of when they make gratins or scallops, but I like it, because it's just enough of something different to add pizazz to a dish. If you've grown up with a child's aversion to turnips (because someone overboiled them, or didn't season them, or served them plain without any dressing, etc), give this one a try. It's like scalloped potatoes without the boring.
Scalloped Turnips
1 large turnip, or 2 medium ones, peeled
2 tbsp unsalted butter
2 tbsp flour
1 cup milk
Salt
Pepper
1/2 cup grated cheddar cheese (or more, if you like cheese as much as I do)
Optional: 3 slices bacon
Start by slicing the turnips very thinly. Fill a pot with salted water and boil the turnip slices for 15 or 20 minutes, until they're soft. Taste a turnip at this point, I think they're good just like this. But we'll be adding stuff to them. Pour the potatoes into a gratin dish (or a small baking dish).
Preheat the oven to 250F. In a medium saucepan, melt the butter over low heat. Add the flour one tbsp at a time, and whisk into a roux. Add the milk, turn the heat up to medium, and stir until the mixture has thickened into a simple white sauce. On my stove, this takes between 5 and 10 minutes. Taste the sauce, and add salt until it's properly seasoned. Keep a spare hand with the salt, it's easy to go overboard and end up with a salty sauce (ew!).
Pour the finished white sauce over the turnips. Sprinkle the cheese on top, and bake for 10 minutes, or until the cheese is melted and the sauce has distributed itself throughout the dish.
If you're feeling extra industrious (or if you've just got a hankering for bacon), pan fry up some bacon while the dish is in the oven, then crumble it into bits and sprinkle those liberally on top. Yum!
Servings: 2 as a main dish or 4 as a side
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.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Winter Greens and Chickpeas
I grew up in the deepest part of the American South, where greens are a staple. Tobacco isn't the only huge, leafy plant that gets the royal treatment around here: collards and mustard greens grow three feet tall in farmers' backyard gardens or in huge fields for market. The interesting thing about Southern greens, though, is that few Southern cooks know how to prepare them properly. The standard way is to boil them for hours in plain water with a ham hock, which yields a tasteless, textureless mass that ranks slightly below Spam on my list of unappealing foods. Leave it to the South to grow agricultural glory, then squander it on poor preparation.
Luckily for the greens of the world, it does not have to be so. This recipe capitalizes on their earthy, down-home goodness by complementing them with plump, nutty chickpeas and a rich, slightly tangy combo of chicken stock and lemon juice. With all due respect to the Southern cooks I grew up with, this ain't your mama's greens. These are so simply, earthily good that after I perfected the recipe I made six batches over the course of two weeks, because I didn't want to eat anything else for lunch.
I make this recipe using kale, because its mild flavor adapts nicely to the braising process I use here, but you can use any winter green. Chard would be lovely. The stronger flavoured greens (mustard, collard) might need longer cooking times, but I see no reason why they wouldn't be fine. I think that I originally got the idea from Orangette, here, but this version has evolved quite a bit from hers, so I feel no qualms about claiming it for my own.
Winter Greens and Chickpeas
Servings: 4-6
Luckily for the greens of the world, it does not have to be so. This recipe capitalizes on their earthy, down-home goodness by complementing them with plump, nutty chickpeas and a rich, slightly tangy combo of chicken stock and lemon juice. With all due respect to the Southern cooks I grew up with, this ain't your mama's greens. These are so simply, earthily good that after I perfected the recipe I made six batches over the course of two weeks, because I didn't want to eat anything else for lunch.
I make this recipe using kale, because its mild flavor adapts nicely to the braising process I use here, but you can use any winter green. Chard would be lovely. The stronger flavoured greens (mustard, collard) might need longer cooking times, but I see no reason why they wouldn't be fine. I think that I originally got the idea from Orangette, here, but this version has evolved quite a bit from hers, so I feel no qualms about claiming it for my own.
Winter Greens and Chickpeas
Approx. 1 lb winter greens (Like I said, I use kale here, but others would work. The 1 lb measurement is after the greens have had the tough stems taken out, so you’ll need to buy more than that at the store. I usually get two bunches.)
1 can Bush or Goya chickpeas, drained but not necessarily rinsed (I like the taste of the chickpea-juice, so I don’t rinse them. If it’s not your thing, go ahead and rinse. No big deal either way.)
1 medium-large scallion, thinly sliced
3 smallish leeks, thinly sliced
3 cloves garlic, finely diced
3 tbsp olive oil
1 cup chicken stock
2 tbsp lemon juice
Salt
Prep the greens by rinsing them thoroughly, then cutting the stems out, leaving only the leaves. Discard the stems, and slice the greens into thin ribbons (1/4 in.). Set greens aside. If greens are still wet after this process, that’s fine.
In a very wide sauce pan with a lid, add a generous 1 1/2 tbsp olive oil over medium heat. Add the scallion and leeks, cooking slowly until leeks and scallion have softened and are beginning to turn translucent. Add the garlic, and cook for another minute or so, then dump in the greens, working in batches to wilt the greens down enough until they all fit into the pan. Stir often, and make sure nothing sticks to the pan. Pour the chicken stock and lemon juice over the semi-wilted greens, then cover the pan, lower the heat to medium-low, and cook for fifteen-ish minutes. The goal here is a slow simmer, not a sizzle. The greens will absorb the flavours of the stock and lemon juice, and will release their own bitterness to become tender and earthy. After fifteen minutes or so, remove the lid, salt the mixture to taste, stir, and replace the lid for another five minutes. If it’s getting low on moisture, add a little more chicken stock to make sure that nothing sticks to the pan. If you're using a stronger flavoured green, you might add a little more stock here, and double the cooking time.
Servings: 4-6
Twice-Baked Savory Sweet Potatoes
Savory Sweet potatoes? Isn't that an oxymoron?
Nope! These sweet potatoes aren't your ordinary, marshmallow-infested Thanksgiving fare. These are sweet spuds with a little kick, ready to take their place at the grown-ups' table and laughing at the brown sugar monstrosities that so many people think of when they think sweet potatoes. They take a little time, but they're really very easy. Most of the time is just baking in the oven, and what could be easier than that?
I came up for the idea with these as I do most of my culinary creations: staring vacantly into my pantry and wondering what I was thinking when I bought sweet potatoes on impulse. I practically never eat sweet potatoes, but these were so plump and earthy and tempting that they practically leapt into my grocery basket. So here I was, wondering what the proper treatment might be for sweet potatoes if I wasn't in the mood for something sugary. By coincidence, they were sitting beside my little jar of curry paste in the pantry, and so this inspired combination was born. The curry sets off the sweetness of the potatoes by providing a slight tang, nothing too ostentatious, just enough to make your tastebuds sit up and take notice. It also pulls out the sweetness in the caramelized onions and the buttermilk, which I added because I adore ordinary mashed potatoes with buttermilk. Anyway, this combination is one that I'll be making again, and soon. The next time I get tempted by sweet potatoes that look too good to resist, I'll know exactly how to do them justice.
Twice-Baked Savory Sweet Potatoes
2 large sweet potatoes (orange or yellow works, I've even made it with one of each)
1/4 large yellow onion, finely diced (or 1/2 medium onion, the onions are very large where I live)
1 tsp olive oil
1/4 cup buttermilk
2 tbsp unsalted butter, divided into small cubes
1/4 tsp red curry paste (I use Thai curry, but whatever your favorite is should be fine)
1/4 cup Parmesan cheese, shredded, plus additional cheese to garnish
Salt
Pepper
Preheat the oven to 400F. Wrap the sweet potatoes in tin foil, twisting the ends like candy to make handling easy. When the oven is ready, pop in the sweet potatoes, and leave them there to bake for 1 hr - 1 hr 10 min. Test a potato with a fork to see if they're done: the fork should penetrate to the center of the potato with little or no resistance. Yellow sweet potatoes take longer to get done than orange ones, and will seem more resistant to the fork even when they are done. This is normal.
Towards the end of the potatoes' cooking time, add the olive oil to a skillet over medium heat. Drop in the onion, and caramelize until just barely amber-colored. This is a stage somewhere after 'translucent', and before 'french onion soup brown'. This should take about 10 min. Remove the onions from the heat.
Remove the potatoes from the oven, and unwrap them. Lower the oven temperature to 350F, but keep it going, you'll need it later. Using a very sharp knife, carefully cut the potatoes in half. I say 'carefully', because the goal is to get the potatoes in half while leaving the delicate skins intact. Once the potatoes are halved, scoop out the center of the potatoes into a large mixing bowl, leaving 1/4 in of potato attached to the skins. This should form little potato 'bowls' out of the skins, into which we will eventually be returning the gussied-up innards. Set aside the skins, you'll return to them later.
Add the small cubes of butter to the hot potato guts, and pour in the buttermilk. Stir vigorously, until the potatoes' heat has melted the butter and the mixture is fairly smooth. Add the onion, a dash of salt to taste, and a dash of pepper to taste. Mix these in, then taste the mixture. Adjust seasoning.
Add in the curry paste, and stir until mixed thoroughly. Taste the mixture, and add more curry if desired (truthfully, I probably end up using more like 3/8 or 1/2 tsp here. It's completely a personal preference thing, though). Make sure the curry is mixed evenly; if you're using the paste it can take some hard stirring to get it to mix right. Add in the cheese, and stir until that's mixed completely. The potato should still be hot enough to melt the cheese, but don't worry if it's not. It doesn't matter.
Line a square baking tin with foil. I use one with high sides, because it tends to support the potatoes better. Place the four skins in this baking pan, and scoop the curry mixture back into the skins. You should be able to get it all in, don't be afraid to mound it up a little if needed. On top of the refilled potato halves, sprinkle some more Parmesan and maybe a dash of nutmeg if you're feeling artistic. Place the baking tin in the oven at 350F, and bake for 15-20 min. The Parmesan on top of the potatoes should be melted, and the potatoes should be warm all the way through. Serve!
Servings: 4 as a side dish, perhaps only 2 as a main dish
Nope! These sweet potatoes aren't your ordinary, marshmallow-infested Thanksgiving fare. These are sweet spuds with a little kick, ready to take their place at the grown-ups' table and laughing at the brown sugar monstrosities that so many people think of when they think sweet potatoes. They take a little time, but they're really very easy. Most of the time is just baking in the oven, and what could be easier than that?
I came up for the idea with these as I do most of my culinary creations: staring vacantly into my pantry and wondering what I was thinking when I bought sweet potatoes on impulse. I practically never eat sweet potatoes, but these were so plump and earthy and tempting that they practically leapt into my grocery basket. So here I was, wondering what the proper treatment might be for sweet potatoes if I wasn't in the mood for something sugary. By coincidence, they were sitting beside my little jar of curry paste in the pantry, and so this inspired combination was born. The curry sets off the sweetness of the potatoes by providing a slight tang, nothing too ostentatious, just enough to make your tastebuds sit up and take notice. It also pulls out the sweetness in the caramelized onions and the buttermilk, which I added because I adore ordinary mashed potatoes with buttermilk. Anyway, this combination is one that I'll be making again, and soon. The next time I get tempted by sweet potatoes that look too good to resist, I'll know exactly how to do them justice.
Twice-Baked Savory Sweet Potatoes
2 large sweet potatoes (orange or yellow works, I've even made it with one of each)
1/4 large yellow onion, finely diced (or 1/2 medium onion, the onions are very large where I live)
1 tsp olive oil
1/4 cup buttermilk
2 tbsp unsalted butter, divided into small cubes
1/4 tsp red curry paste (I use Thai curry, but whatever your favorite is should be fine)
1/4 cup Parmesan cheese, shredded, plus additional cheese to garnish
Salt
Pepper
Preheat the oven to 400F. Wrap the sweet potatoes in tin foil, twisting the ends like candy to make handling easy. When the oven is ready, pop in the sweet potatoes, and leave them there to bake for 1 hr - 1 hr 10 min. Test a potato with a fork to see if they're done: the fork should penetrate to the center of the potato with little or no resistance. Yellow sweet potatoes take longer to get done than orange ones, and will seem more resistant to the fork even when they are done. This is normal.
Towards the end of the potatoes' cooking time, add the olive oil to a skillet over medium heat. Drop in the onion, and caramelize until just barely amber-colored. This is a stage somewhere after 'translucent', and before 'french onion soup brown'. This should take about 10 min. Remove the onions from the heat.
Remove the potatoes from the oven, and unwrap them. Lower the oven temperature to 350F, but keep it going, you'll need it later. Using a very sharp knife, carefully cut the potatoes in half. I say 'carefully', because the goal is to get the potatoes in half while leaving the delicate skins intact. Once the potatoes are halved, scoop out the center of the potatoes into a large mixing bowl, leaving 1/4 in of potato attached to the skins. This should form little potato 'bowls' out of the skins, into which we will eventually be returning the gussied-up innards. Set aside the skins, you'll return to them later.
Add the small cubes of butter to the hot potato guts, and pour in the buttermilk. Stir vigorously, until the potatoes' heat has melted the butter and the mixture is fairly smooth. Add the onion, a dash of salt to taste, and a dash of pepper to taste. Mix these in, then taste the mixture. Adjust seasoning.
Add in the curry paste, and stir until mixed thoroughly. Taste the mixture, and add more curry if desired (truthfully, I probably end up using more like 3/8 or 1/2 tsp here. It's completely a personal preference thing, though). Make sure the curry is mixed evenly; if you're using the paste it can take some hard stirring to get it to mix right. Add in the cheese, and stir until that's mixed completely. The potato should still be hot enough to melt the cheese, but don't worry if it's not. It doesn't matter.
Line a square baking tin with foil. I use one with high sides, because it tends to support the potatoes better. Place the four skins in this baking pan, and scoop the curry mixture back into the skins. You should be able to get it all in, don't be afraid to mound it up a little if needed. On top of the refilled potato halves, sprinkle some more Parmesan and maybe a dash of nutmeg if you're feeling artistic. Place the baking tin in the oven at 350F, and bake for 15-20 min. The Parmesan on top of the potatoes should be melted, and the potatoes should be warm all the way through. Serve!
Servings: 4 as a side dish, perhaps only 2 as a main dish
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