Hands up people: who plans their meals a whole day in advance? So as not to repeat a certain foodstuff, or to overload on another? Oh yeah. Me neither.
Yesterday morning I had steel cut oats for breakfast - the kids had already eaten & gone by the time they were cooked, so I could've had a portion for four if I wanted. For lunch I made lentil salad for a friend of mine, to balance out the crusts of grilled cheese that we were 'cleaning up' after the kids. For dinner my mother in law cooked a dish that was Torbjorn's childhood favorite - lentil stew on brown rice, topped with peanuts and raisins. (What this says about my husband? Whole 'nother post.)
Let's just say my system is feeling remarkably.... clean today. But the point of this long and detailed report of my overly-fibrous diet is to say I'd do it all over again, I love the lentil so much. The salad yesterday was made with the tiny pitch-black "caviar lentils" I'd found at Trader Joes, and their texture was perfect alongside exquisitely ripe avocado slices, some arugula leaves, and a sprinkling of goats cheese on top.
A salad - why not. Let's pretend that snow isn't on the forecast for Friday. Let's pretend that the freezing rain that'll probably arrive instead won't knock all the beautiful cherry blossoms off the tree, and let's imagine the spring really is on its way and the days of huge salads in plain white bowls, eaten while bathing in the afternoon sun on your front porch are right around the corner.
Let's pretend I didn't just cross a new threshold into middle age by telling you about the fiber in my diet.
Crunchy Lentil Salad
from Jeanne Lemlin's Quick Vegetarian Pleasures
1 C lentils, picked over and rinsed (do not use mushy red lentils or big green ones. Use Puy lentils, or those caviar ones I mentioned.)
5 C water
1 bay leaf
1 celery rib, finely diced
1 carrot, minced
1/4 C finely diced red onion
2 T minced fresh parsley
1/4 C fruity olive oil
2 T fresh lemon juice
1 garlic clove (pressed or minced)
1/4 t dried thyme (or 1 tsp fresh minced, my preference)
1/4 tsp ground cumin
salt & pepper to taste.
In medium saucepan, combine lentils, water, and bay leaf. Bring to a boil and cook, uncovered, 15 minutes, or until the lentils are tender but still crunchy. Stir occasionally. Pour into a colander and discard the bay leaf. Drain the lentils very well, and let them sit 5 minutes or so to be certain all teh water has drained out.
Place lentils in serving bowl and gently stir in the celery, carrot, onion and parsley.
Mix together the olive oil lemon juice garlic, thyme cumin salt and pepper. Pour onto the lentil mixture, and carefully toss. Serve at room temperature.
Showing posts with label recipes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label recipes. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Soupish sort of Sunday
The novelty of cutesy soup titles will wear off eventually, but in the meantime, I guess soup is a vaguely entertaining way to distract ourselves from unending weeks of freezing temperatures.
So you're ok with green soup, right? I mean, we're not talking a plehgmy week-old pea soup green. We're talking kelly green, emerald green, GREEN. This is my new favorite winter soup, and the fact that it is perfect for St Patricks Day or, I dunno, Green Day at preschool is just extra happiness.
The recipe originates from a Silver Palate cookbook, but honestly I can't tell you which one. I have a grubby wrinkled & dog eared photocopy of the recipe that I got from someone at work, carried around in my purse for a month or so, and then finally managed to get all the ingredients in the house at one time and decided to dive into the green.
And lest you needed any further encouragement to embrace the green, I'll go ahead & deliver the punch line now: it's got BACON. You know my feelings on that wonder food. Now, technically it can absolutely be made without it, or with those Bac-O chips again, but [sucking teeth] you really want to try the bacon if its at all ok with your ethics/diet plan.
Winter Vegetable Soup
4 slices bacon, cut into 1-in pieces
4 Tb (1/2 stick) unsalted butter
2 C finely diced leeks (white part and 1 inch green)
1 1/2 C finely diced onions
1 C finely diced celery
1 1/2 tsp dried tarragon
1/2 tsp dried thyme (I used fresh, then you'd do about 1 Tbsp)
salt and freshly ground pepper
5 C chicken stock
2 1/2 C finely diced potatoes
1 pound tender spinach, well rinsed, stems removed, cut into 1/8" slivers
1/2 C heavy cream (I use half & half, and I'm pretty sure even whole milk would work)
1. In large soup pot, cook the bacon over low heat, until fat is rendered, 5 minutes. Remove the bacon with a slotted spoon, and discard. [They say discard. *I* say keep keep keep for garnish.]
2. Add the butter to the pot. When it has melted, add the leeks, onions, and celery. Cook over low heat until wilted, 15 minutes. Season with teh tarragon, thyme and salt and pepper. Stir well.
3. Add the stock and potatoes. Cover, and simmer until the potatoes are tender but not mushy, 15 to 20 minutes.
4. Add half the spinach. Simmer for 1 minutes more.
5. Remove the soup from the heat. Puree half the amount in a blender or food processor, and return the puree to the soup pot. [Here is the part where it is pretty much day-glo green.]
6. Place the pot over low heat, and add the remaining spinach and the cream [cream = deelish. But sadly, it does soften the shade to a brackish jade color.] Heat through, stirring well, but do not boil. Adjust the seasonings, and serve. I top each bowl with a spoonful of sour cream, and the bacon you saved back at the beginning.
You know the drill - serve with crusty bread, a great salad, and you're golden. Or green. Or, you know. Happy & full of soup anyway. Make sure you have brownies for dessert. Bathing suit season is so far off.
So you're ok with green soup, right? I mean, we're not talking a plehgmy week-old pea soup green. We're talking kelly green, emerald green, GREEN. This is my new favorite winter soup, and the fact that it is perfect for St Patricks Day or, I dunno, Green Day at preschool is just extra happiness.
The recipe originates from a Silver Palate cookbook, but honestly I can't tell you which one. I have a grubby wrinkled & dog eared photocopy of the recipe that I got from someone at work, carried around in my purse for a month or so, and then finally managed to get all the ingredients in the house at one time and decided to dive into the green.
And lest you needed any further encouragement to embrace the green, I'll go ahead & deliver the punch line now: it's got BACON. You know my feelings on that wonder food. Now, technically it can absolutely be made without it, or with those Bac-O chips again, but [sucking teeth] you really want to try the bacon if its at all ok with your ethics/diet plan.
Winter Vegetable Soup
4 slices bacon, cut into 1-in pieces
4 Tb (1/2 stick) unsalted butter
2 C finely diced leeks (white part and 1 inch green)
1 1/2 C finely diced onions
1 C finely diced celery
1 1/2 tsp dried tarragon
1/2 tsp dried thyme (I used fresh, then you'd do about 1 Tbsp)
salt and freshly ground pepper
5 C chicken stock
2 1/2 C finely diced potatoes
1 pound tender spinach, well rinsed, stems removed, cut into 1/8" slivers
1/2 C heavy cream (I use half & half, and I'm pretty sure even whole milk would work)
1. In large soup pot, cook the bacon over low heat, until fat is rendered, 5 minutes. Remove the bacon with a slotted spoon, and discard. [They say discard. *I* say keep keep keep for garnish.]
2. Add the butter to the pot. When it has melted, add the leeks, onions, and celery. Cook over low heat until wilted, 15 minutes. Season with teh tarragon, thyme and salt and pepper. Stir well.
3. Add the stock and potatoes. Cover, and simmer until the potatoes are tender but not mushy, 15 to 20 minutes.
4. Add half the spinach. Simmer for 1 minutes more.
5. Remove the soup from the heat. Puree half the amount in a blender or food processor, and return the puree to the soup pot. [Here is the part where it is pretty much day-glo green.]
6. Place the pot over low heat, and add the remaining spinach and the cream [cream = deelish. But sadly, it does soften the shade to a brackish jade color.] Heat through, stirring well, but do not boil. Adjust the seasonings, and serve. I top each bowl with a spoonful of sour cream, and the bacon you saved back at the beginning.
You know the drill - serve with crusty bread, a great salad, and you're golden. Or green. Or, you know. Happy & full of soup anyway. Make sure you have brownies for dessert. Bathing suit season is so far off.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Soupity Soup Soup
This recipe is the soup of my life. This soup is the end of an afternoon of leaf-raking, it is the welcome back after sledding, it is families at our house for potluck suppers. I watched my grandmother ladle it from her giant soup pot, I watched my mother spoon it into bowls.
It is comfort food at its best. Rich, creamy, and decidedly not recommended by Weight Watchers. But it will feed your spirit as well as it feeds your belly, and it will garner all kinds of mmmhmm! from the people gathered around your table.
Now. My entire non-bacon eating childhood, I ate this soup made with Bac-O Chips. Yes, the soy-laden, sodium bombs sold in a handy plastic jar. What did I know what I was missing? So whilst I am a bacon lover of the first order, I'll tell you that this soup is delish with those Bac-Os, and just Off. The. HOOK. when made with real bacon. You decide.
So: Grandma Joan's Corn and Cheese Chowder
2/3 C Bac-O chips
1/2 C butter (yep, that's a whole stick)
1/2 C onion, finely diced
1/4 C flour
*** melt the butter in large pot until foaming, then cook 2 minutes at a low heat. I add the flour after the butter, Bac-Os and onions have had their time in the sun, so to speak. If you use real bacon, you could use the rendered fat from the bacon in place of some of the butter. Make sure you saute the bacon until nice & crisp, but not crunchy.
4 C Water
2 C Potatoes, diced small
1/2 tsp dried sage (I use fresh, as it still sort of survives out in my garden, but dried is ok)
2 large bay leaves
*** add these, cover, cook 20 minutes, or until potatoes are tender.
2 C cream, evaporated milk, or half & half
2 C boiling water
2 C grated cheddar (I use orange cheddar, to add color, but a well aged sharp cheddar is most delish)
4 C corn (if frozen, you don't have to defrost. Frozen from the farmer's market = heaven.)
Salt & freshly ground pepper
***Add these ingredients, heat just to a boil
The very most important thing to remember here is, once you've added that last batch of ingredients, do not let the soup boil. Really, I'm not kidding here. It curdles and gets remarkably gross, very quickly.
That's it. Pretty simple, pretty humble. But sooooo delicious. As always, the better quality ingredients, the better the soup will be. It is perfect with a crusty wholegrain bread, a huge green salad, and maybe some fruit for dessert.
Soup. Does the body good.
It is comfort food at its best. Rich, creamy, and decidedly not recommended by Weight Watchers. But it will feed your spirit as well as it feeds your belly, and it will garner all kinds of mmmhmm! from the people gathered around your table.
Now. My entire non-bacon eating childhood, I ate this soup made with Bac-O Chips. Yes, the soy-laden, sodium bombs sold in a handy plastic jar. What did I know what I was missing? So whilst I am a bacon lover of the first order, I'll tell you that this soup is delish with those Bac-Os, and just Off. The. HOOK. when made with real bacon. You decide.
So: Grandma Joan's Corn and Cheese Chowder
2/3 C Bac-O chips
1/2 C butter (yep, that's a whole stick)
1/2 C onion, finely diced
1/4 C flour
*** melt the butter in large pot until foaming, then cook 2 minutes at a low heat. I add the flour after the butter, Bac-Os and onions have had their time in the sun, so to speak. If you use real bacon, you could use the rendered fat from the bacon in place of some of the butter. Make sure you saute the bacon until nice & crisp, but not crunchy.
4 C Water
2 C Potatoes, diced small
1/2 tsp dried sage (I use fresh, as it still sort of survives out in my garden, but dried is ok)
2 large bay leaves
*** add these, cover, cook 20 minutes, or until potatoes are tender.
2 C cream, evaporated milk, or half & half
2 C boiling water
2 C grated cheddar (I use orange cheddar, to add color, but a well aged sharp cheddar is most delish)
4 C corn (if frozen, you don't have to defrost. Frozen from the farmer's market = heaven.)
Salt & freshly ground pepper
***Add these ingredients, heat just to a boil
The very most important thing to remember here is, once you've added that last batch of ingredients, do not let the soup boil. Really, I'm not kidding here. It curdles and gets remarkably gross, very quickly.
That's it. Pretty simple, pretty humble. But sooooo delicious. As always, the better quality ingredients, the better the soup will be. It is perfect with a crusty wholegrain bread, a huge green salad, and maybe some fruit for dessert.
Soup. Does the body good.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Lemon-Scented Teaching
As the daughter of a teacher, as the grand daughter of teachers, as the great-granddaughter of teachers, you'd think I'd be a little more tuned in to showing some appreciation to my own kids' teachers.
You'd think.
But generally speaking I'm the one turning up at the last-day-of-school festivities thinking 'cripes! wish I'd gotten a card!' I'm the one wrapping a Christmas gift for the teacher on December 27 and dropping it off at the school office in the hopes our teacher checks in over the holidays. You will laugh and think I am making this up, but in all honesty & humility I can confirm that I did wrap and give the Best Teacher Ever ornament to Cecilie's preschool teacher this Christmas - two years late.
But tomorrow is my big chance to make things right. By the sheer luck of having Head of PTA Hospitality up my street, I figured out that it is Teacher Appreciation Week, and am sending in some coffee cake for the teachers' breakfast.
But not just any coffee cake.
Currently the intoxicating scent of Lemon-Rosemary Crumb Cake is wafting through the kitchen, and the hubs is hinting that maybe the teachers don't need two cakes. Maybe, he suggests, they'd be just as happy with Dunkin' Donuts.
They might, I reply, but I think my karma owes the teachers this crumb cake.
If the idea of rosemary in a sweet coffee cake makes you nervous, turn away from the fear. Really. This combo is just....transcendent. The cake is not-too-sweet, but yet not overly wholesome or earnest either. (Sounds like the description of a great friend, actually, instead of baked goods!) It is nothing less than perfection when paired with a cup of Earl Grey tea, but also extremely nice with a plain ol' cup of coffee. If you felt that the recipe was leading you in a dessert-y sort of direction, I would be the last person to argue that a well-placed dollop of lemon curd was de trop. (Or, OR! Blend that lemon curd with mascarpone, and you might not emerge until the pan was empty.)
In the interests of copyright protection and brevity, I'll give you the list of ingredients here and ask you to head on over to the official link for further direction. I give you.....
Lemon-Rosemary Crumb Cake
Ingredients
Happy Teacher Appreciation Week!!
P.S. A happy coincidence occurred on Twitter last night. As I tweeted about making Lemon Rosemary Crumb Cake, A Southern Fairy Tale was tweeting about making Lemon Blackberry Coffee Cake for the teachers in her little part of Texas. Seems like lemon is the flavor of choice when it comes to teachers.
You'd think.
But generally speaking I'm the one turning up at the last-day-of-school festivities thinking 'cripes! wish I'd gotten a card!' I'm the one wrapping a Christmas gift for the teacher on December 27 and dropping it off at the school office in the hopes our teacher checks in over the holidays. You will laugh and think I am making this up, but in all honesty & humility I can confirm that I did wrap and give the Best Teacher Ever ornament to Cecilie's preschool teacher this Christmas - two years late.
But tomorrow is my big chance to make things right. By the sheer luck of having Head of PTA Hospitality up my street, I figured out that it is Teacher Appreciation Week, and am sending in some coffee cake for the teachers' breakfast.
But not just any coffee cake.
Currently the intoxicating scent of Lemon-Rosemary Crumb Cake is wafting through the kitchen, and the hubs is hinting that maybe the teachers don't need two cakes. Maybe, he suggests, they'd be just as happy with Dunkin' Donuts.
They might, I reply, but I think my karma owes the teachers this crumb cake.
If the idea of rosemary in a sweet coffee cake makes you nervous, turn away from the fear. Really. This combo is just....transcendent. The cake is not-too-sweet, but yet not overly wholesome or earnest either. (Sounds like the description of a great friend, actually, instead of baked goods!) It is nothing less than perfection when paired with a cup of Earl Grey tea, but also extremely nice with a plain ol' cup of coffee. If you felt that the recipe was leading you in a dessert-y sort of direction, I would be the last person to argue that a well-placed dollop of lemon curd was de trop. (Or, OR! Blend that lemon curd with mascarpone, and you might not emerge until the pan was empty.)
In the interests of copyright protection and brevity, I'll give you the list of ingredients here and ask you to head on over to the official link for further direction. I give you.....
Lemon-Rosemary Crumb Cake
Ingredients
- 1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
- 2/3 cup sugar
- 1/8 teaspoon salt
- 1/4 cup chilled stick margarine or butter, cut into small pieces
- 3/4 teaspoon minced fresh or 1/4 teaspoon dried rosemary
- 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
- 1/4 teaspoon baking soda
- 1/3 cup low-fat buttermilk
- 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
- 1 large egg
- Cooking spray
- 2 teaspoons grated lemon rind
- 3/4 teaspoon water
- Rosemary sprigs (optional)
- Lemon slices (optional)
Happy Teacher Appreciation Week!!
P.S. A happy coincidence occurred on Twitter last night. As I tweeted about making Lemon Rosemary Crumb Cake, A Southern Fairy Tale was tweeting about making Lemon Blackberry Coffee Cake for the teachers in her little part of Texas. Seems like lemon is the flavor of choice when it comes to teachers.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Baking with The Boy
I'm told its a good thing to bake with children. Apparently, it's what some of those crunchy types would call an Educational Opportunity.
I guess they don't have children whose single greatest joy is smashing eggs, and then egg shells, into smithereens, or measuring flour at warp speed 'cause that's a lot cooler, Mom.' I'm not sure at which point in the sugar explosion you take the time to elucidate the concept of fractions, or when exactly the slick of melted butter stops being a lesson in 'solids to liquids' and starts being tonight's stain removal exercise.
You know me, I like to pretend I'm one of those crunchy types from time to time, usually when I've had a little too much flaxseed in my diet and a vague success with teaching someone letter sounds.
So yeah, yesterday we attempted a baking project. Lars really is my best baker - he at least enjoys the process, instead of whining about not making it from a box like everyone else's family, or putting his entire face down in the bowl like his baby sister.
I read this amazing book last week, A Homemade Life by Molly Wizenberg (also of Orangette blog fame). Its the sort of book filled with short essays about life, food, family and love and... well, I guess just about everything else that makes my existence worth living. She includes recipes.
Banana Bread with Chocolate and Crystallized Ginger was the recipe that Lars and I attempted (minus the ginger, only because I didn't have any) inspired by a bunch of black bananas in the fruit bowl. I'm afraid you'll have to click the link, because the recipe is just too much to get into one blog post, but I really encourage you to head on over and get to know Molly and Orangette. And in the meantime snag a seriously addictive banana bread recipe.
Turns out my Able Baker Lars wasn't so impressed with the finished product, and neither were his sisters, so Torbjorn and I have single handedly attacked the loaf with a - dare I say - dedicated focus.
I guess they don't have children whose single greatest joy is smashing eggs, and then egg shells, into smithereens, or measuring flour at warp speed 'cause that's a lot cooler, Mom.' I'm not sure at which point in the sugar explosion you take the time to elucidate the concept of fractions, or when exactly the slick of melted butter stops being a lesson in 'solids to liquids' and starts being tonight's stain removal exercise.
You know me, I like to pretend I'm one of those crunchy types from time to time, usually when I've had a little too much flaxseed in my diet and a vague success with teaching someone letter sounds.
So yeah, yesterday we attempted a baking project. Lars really is my best baker - he at least enjoys the process, instead of whining about not making it from a box like everyone else's family, or putting his entire face down in the bowl like his baby sister.
I read this amazing book last week, A Homemade Life by Molly Wizenberg (also of Orangette blog fame). Its the sort of book filled with short essays about life, food, family and love and... well, I guess just about everything else that makes my existence worth living. She includes recipes.
Banana Bread with Chocolate and Crystallized Ginger was the recipe that Lars and I attempted (minus the ginger, only because I didn't have any) inspired by a bunch of black bananas in the fruit bowl. I'm afraid you'll have to click the link, because the recipe is just too much to get into one blog post, but I really encourage you to head on over and get to know Molly and Orangette. And in the meantime snag a seriously addictive banana bread recipe.
Turns out my Able Baker Lars wasn't so impressed with the finished product, and neither were his sisters, so Torbjorn and I have single handedly attacked the loaf with a - dare I say - dedicated focus.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Dinner Tonight
Just hypothetically, let's say you are incredibly busy this time of year.
Maybe you're frantically trying to mop up your flooded basement before your in-laws arrive for a long Christmas visit. Maybe you're researching a cookie recipe that is simple, quick, and yields SIX DOZEN for the church Christmas Cookie Walk on Sunday, as you just remembered that you'd volunteered to bake them (it's raising money for Heifer International! And it's cookies! Genius.) Maybe you're trying to figure out just how the 98 different appointments you've made between now and Sunday are going to happen, all at the same time.
Now, if you were like a certain friend of mine, you would cheerfully announce that it's Breakfast for Supper Night!!! and you would proceed to serve up the Yellow Meal of pancakes, eggs, and baked bananas. And your kids and their playmates would go to bed exclaiming over the Most Fun Supper Ever. OR, maybe your kids are camped out in front of Charlie Brown's Christmas movie, eating giant bowls-ful of Goldfish because you just couldn't come up with anything to make for dinner. (And, as my friend pointed out, it's cheese and wheat in a bowl. That's almost like pasta dinner, right?)
Well, friends, I've got the solution for the nights in between Inspiration and Goldfish. And I'm hoping that it isn't just me who might need solutions like this.
Here's whatcha need for Pasta and Beans with Rosemary & Olive Oil
1 lg. can cannellini beans (or other white beans)
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 Tbsp olive oil
2 Tbsp butter
abt a cup of chicken stock (or veg, whatever you've got)
a Tbsp chopped rosemary
squeeze of lemon juice
***
1 lb. cooked short pasta, e,g, penne (I use whole wheat generally, and it was great w/ this sauce)
Warm up the oil/butter, throw in the garlic. Before it even starts to brown, throw in the drained & rinsed can of beans. Stir around a bit, mashing a little with a wooden spoon. Throw in the chopped rosemary, simmer a bit more, and keep adding small amounts of stock to keep things sauce-like. (Saucy?!?) At the end, add the squeeze of lemon juice. Use a light hand with this - you just want to 'brighten' the sauce, not make a lemon gravy.
Then serve this up on top of the pasta, and if you're feeling fancy, grate parmesan on top.
It is a bit of a bland looking dish, so you'll want to some nice colorful veggies alongside. I think a green salad would be perfect - maybe a winter salad w/ pears walnuts & goats cheese. But I had none of these things, so just did steamed carrots with chopped parsley & a bit of olive oil.
Oh, and for the record, this would not be one of my Advent journaling insights. In case you're wondering. Once I get the basement dried out we'll be back on track.
Maybe you're frantically trying to mop up your flooded basement before your in-laws arrive for a long Christmas visit. Maybe you're researching a cookie recipe that is simple, quick, and yields SIX DOZEN for the church Christmas Cookie Walk on Sunday, as you just remembered that you'd volunteered to bake them (it's raising money for Heifer International! And it's cookies! Genius.) Maybe you're trying to figure out just how the 98 different appointments you've made between now and Sunday are going to happen, all at the same time.
Now, if you were like a certain friend of mine, you would cheerfully announce that it's Breakfast for Supper Night!!! and you would proceed to serve up the Yellow Meal of pancakes, eggs, and baked bananas. And your kids and their playmates would go to bed exclaiming over the Most Fun Supper Ever. OR, maybe your kids are camped out in front of Charlie Brown's Christmas movie, eating giant bowls-ful of Goldfish because you just couldn't come up with anything to make for dinner. (And, as my friend pointed out, it's cheese and wheat in a bowl. That's almost like pasta dinner, right?)
Well, friends, I've got the solution for the nights in between Inspiration and Goldfish. And I'm hoping that it isn't just me who might need solutions like this.
Here's whatcha need for Pasta and Beans with Rosemary & Olive Oil
1 lg. can cannellini beans (or other white beans)
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 Tbsp olive oil
2 Tbsp butter
abt a cup of chicken stock (or veg, whatever you've got)
a Tbsp chopped rosemary
squeeze of lemon juice
***
1 lb. cooked short pasta, e,g, penne (I use whole wheat generally, and it was great w/ this sauce)
Warm up the oil/butter, throw in the garlic. Before it even starts to brown, throw in the drained & rinsed can of beans. Stir around a bit, mashing a little with a wooden spoon. Throw in the chopped rosemary, simmer a bit more, and keep adding small amounts of stock to keep things sauce-like. (Saucy?!?) At the end, add the squeeze of lemon juice. Use a light hand with this - you just want to 'brighten' the sauce, not make a lemon gravy.
Then serve this up on top of the pasta, and if you're feeling fancy, grate parmesan on top.
It is a bit of a bland looking dish, so you'll want to some nice colorful veggies alongside. I think a green salad would be perfect - maybe a winter salad w/ pears walnuts & goats cheese. But I had none of these things, so just did steamed carrots with chopped parsley & a bit of olive oil.
Oh, and for the record, this would not be one of my Advent journaling insights. In case you're wondering. Once I get the basement dried out we'll be back on track.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Chickpea Spinach Pasta
I was given a book for our wedding: an unassuming citrus green paperback book called Quick Vegetarian Pleasures. (And no, it is not from the Marital Aids section of Barnes & Noble.)
We're not vegetarian. We even (I'll whisper this) eat bacon. With gusto. But I'll tell you: when you live in a flat where the bathroom is out the door/down the stairs/ and around the corner, you're paying for groceries with funds kindly provided by Sallie Mae Corporation and the Big Treat for the evening is a cup of decaf coffee (you being too skint for wine or even a cheap lager) - vegetarian dining is very economical, and therefore profoundly appealing.
I seized this cookbook with all the fervor of a newlywed with a kick-ass set of knives and methodically cooked my way through almost every single recipe. And then cooked them all over again (skipping the one disgusting recipe for Garlic and Herb Tofu Spread, aka Repel All Humans You Speak to the Next Day Spread.)
The one dish that we kept coming back to - in fact, kept making every single week - was Penne with Spinach and Chickpeas in Garlic Sauce. (See, I'm not a hater on the garlic. Just a hater of the Garlic Clove Masquerading as Spread.) By now, the cookbook opens of its own accord to this recipe - the sign of a well-loved page.
I still make this, almost every single week. It has weathered the pernickety tastes of meat-eaters, of spinach-hating vegetarians, of all 3 of my kids, and even of the more adventurous friend over for a visit. It's amazing. Maybe not as amazing as Pomegranate Chicken, but so very much more doable on a rainy Thursday night.
So here you go. I'm giving away all my best party tricks this month.
Penne with Spinach and Chickpeas in Garlic Sauce
1 10-oz. package loose fresh spinach or 1 10-oz pkg frozen chopped spinach, thawed
1 lb penne
1/3 C olive oil
6 garlic cloves (alarming, but so good)
1/4 tsp crushed red pepper flakes
2 med tomatoes, diced small
1 15-oz can of chickpeas, drained but not rinsed
1/4 tsp salt**
1/4 C grated Parmesan
Clean spinach, discard stems. (Chop it up if largeish leaves.) Bring a large pot of water to a boil and add the pasta. Cook til al dente, 12-15 minutes. [I can't believe I just typed instructions on boiling pasta.]
Now the sauce: heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the garlic and red pepper flakes and cook 2 minutes. (Don't let the garlic burn!) Add the tomatoes and chickpeas and cook 2 minutes more. [A small note on the chickpeas: I like to open the can, and just drain them by holding the lid on and turning can upside down. This leaves a little brine on the chickpeas that make the sauce more....unctuous.] Then, throw in the chopped spinach, the salt, and 1/3 C of the boiling pasta water, and stir well. [**note on the salt: I add a ridiculous amount of salt. Waaaaay more than the 1/4 tsp it calls for. But you'll have to make it to your taste. Just be at the ready with the saltshaker. I'm just sayin.] Here's the important bit: TURN OFF THE HEAT NOW. IF YOU'RE COOKING ON ELECTRIC [WHY?] TAKE IT OFF THAT BURNER. The spinach will cook on its own, and be much fresher & bright green if you don't cook the whole schlemeil any more.
When the pasta is done, drain it thoroughly. Put it back in the pot, or a large serving bowl. Pour the sauce over it, and toss well. Sprinkle on the Parmesan, and toss again. In our house, we skip the bit where you stir the parmesan in, and just add it to our individual plates at the table.
Oh, and put the salt shaker on the table. It just adds so muuuuuuuuuuuuuch.
The only people who should skip making this are those who literally retch at the thought of spinach in their home. Or are deathly allergic to say, chick peas. The rest of you? DINNER. DINNER TOMORROW. TRY IT.
We're not vegetarian. We even (I'll whisper this) eat bacon. With gusto. But I'll tell you: when you live in a flat where the bathroom is out the door/down the stairs/ and around the corner, you're paying for groceries with funds kindly provided by Sallie Mae Corporation and the Big Treat for the evening is a cup of decaf coffee (you being too skint for wine or even a cheap lager) - vegetarian dining is very economical, and therefore profoundly appealing.
I seized this cookbook with all the fervor of a newlywed with a kick-ass set of knives and methodically cooked my way through almost every single recipe. And then cooked them all over again (skipping the one disgusting recipe for Garlic and Herb Tofu Spread, aka Repel All Humans You Speak to the Next Day Spread.)
The one dish that we kept coming back to - in fact, kept making every single week - was Penne with Spinach and Chickpeas in Garlic Sauce. (See, I'm not a hater on the garlic. Just a hater of the Garlic Clove Masquerading as Spread.) By now, the cookbook opens of its own accord to this recipe - the sign of a well-loved page.
I still make this, almost every single week. It has weathered the pernickety tastes of meat-eaters, of spinach-hating vegetarians, of all 3 of my kids, and even of the more adventurous friend over for a visit. It's amazing. Maybe not as amazing as Pomegranate Chicken, but so very much more doable on a rainy Thursday night.
So here you go. I'm giving away all my best party tricks this month.
Penne with Spinach and Chickpeas in Garlic Sauce
1 10-oz. package loose fresh spinach or 1 10-oz pkg frozen chopped spinach, thawed
1 lb penne
1/3 C olive oil
6 garlic cloves (alarming, but so good)
1/4 tsp crushed red pepper flakes
2 med tomatoes, diced small
1 15-oz can of chickpeas, drained but not rinsed
1/4 tsp salt**
1/4 C grated Parmesan
Clean spinach, discard stems. (Chop it up if largeish leaves.) Bring a large pot of water to a boil and add the pasta. Cook til al dente, 12-15 minutes. [I can't believe I just typed instructions on boiling pasta.]
Now the sauce: heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the garlic and red pepper flakes and cook 2 minutes. (Don't let the garlic burn!) Add the tomatoes and chickpeas and cook 2 minutes more. [A small note on the chickpeas: I like to open the can, and just drain them by holding the lid on and turning can upside down. This leaves a little brine on the chickpeas that make the sauce more....unctuous.] Then, throw in the chopped spinach, the salt, and 1/3 C of the boiling pasta water, and stir well. [**note on the salt: I add a ridiculous amount of salt. Waaaaay more than the 1/4 tsp it calls for. But you'll have to make it to your taste. Just be at the ready with the saltshaker. I'm just sayin.] Here's the important bit: TURN OFF THE HEAT NOW. IF YOU'RE COOKING ON ELECTRIC [WHY?] TAKE IT OFF THAT BURNER. The spinach will cook on its own, and be much fresher & bright green if you don't cook the whole schlemeil any more.
When the pasta is done, drain it thoroughly. Put it back in the pot, or a large serving bowl. Pour the sauce over it, and toss well. Sprinkle on the Parmesan, and toss again. In our house, we skip the bit where you stir the parmesan in, and just add it to our individual plates at the table.
Oh, and put the salt shaker on the table. It just adds so muuuuuuuuuuuuuch.
The only people who should skip making this are those who literally retch at the thought of spinach in their home. Or are deathly allergic to say, chick peas. The rest of you? DINNER. DINNER TOMORROW. TRY IT.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Communion: aka Pomegranate Chicken
Food is never just food. It's also a way of getting at something else: who we are, who we have been, and who we want to be. (Molly Wizenberg, from A Homemade Life)
Pomegranate Chicken was the only answer.
It was an odd recipe, handed to me by a colleague, with the endorsement "only you would make a recipe this weird." Indeed I would. I made it first for a newlywed husband, who was appropriately enthusiastic. I made it next for friends of ours, known to appreciate their fair share of odd recipes (shout out to Paulo and Maria!!) Made it next for the closest friends I would ever have (shout out to the Berkshire Massive!) and we all raved over it. Made it the following year as a way of marking the year's passing, and as a way of trying to reclaim the territory dominated by the previous month's arrival of Gorgeous Firstborn. Ended up nursing said firstborn on a stepstool in the kitchen, directing Doting Grandma and Best Friend who were making the recipe in my stead.
When we moved to the States, Pomegranate Chicken was left dormant. No kitchen to call our own. The communion meal laid dormant. November 2003, November 2004, November 2005, November 2006, November 2007. All passed without the merest mention of pomegranates.
And then came November 2008. Gradually I began to see life re-forming into something I recognized. I was slowly, tentatively sending my roots out into my community, finding friends who were My People all over again. My People mentioned they might like to do a photo shoot - of people making food, Real Food, to share with each other. I knew what recipe would work. At that meal, I raised a toast: "this meal, this food? It is food I only want to share with those I love. So here's to those friends: the friends in the past, the present, and future that I love."
And now it is 2009. A season of pomegranates, a season of goodbyes. This November we are toasting friends that, last year, were part of the toast's future - and friends that I love nonetheless. This meal is about communion: a meal shared together that becomes so much more than the sum of its parts. The meal reaches all of your senses - when people enter your home they will say "everything smells so fantastic!" When they take a bite of carrot, of onion, of chicken, they will say "this is amazing - what is IN this?" If they are any kind of artist, they will exclaim over the glow of the ruby pomegranate seeds on the amber carrots, over the pinky-purple onions, over the gingery tinge of autumn that radiates from the dish.
After almost 10 years in my recipe box, tonight I want to share Pomegranate Chicken with you. Make it - share communion with Your People, whomever they may be. Those whom you love will gather around your table, and affirm the fellowship that values "who we are, who we have been, and who we want to be."
Pomegranate Chicken
4 chicken breast fillets, skin on
3 Tbsp sesame oil
grated zest & juice of 2 lemons
2 Tbsp honey
2 lg carrots, shredded (I like to make long ribbons with a mandoline/peeler, but either way really)
2 lg red onions, finely sliced
1.5 Tbsp fresh grated ginger
2 pomegranates, peeled & seeds removed
4 Tbsp chopped coriander/cilantro (depends on your side of The Pond)
Salt & Pepper
Marinate chicken with 1 Tbsp sesame oil, zest & juice of one lemon, cinnamon and honey. Stir well, marinate at least 20 mins.
Preheat oven to 375 F, 190 C
Heat 1 Tbsp sesame oil in a pan, add carrots, onion, and ginger and cook for 2-3 minutes. Stir in remaining juice and zest and seasoning to taste, cook another 2-3 minutes. Remove from heat.
Heat remaining oil in pan, add chicken and cook over high heat 2-3 minutes for each side of the breast.
Transfer chicken to roasting tray, skin side up. Add a little water (say, a half cup? Less?) to the frying pan. Stir to remove sediment. Pour over chicken with half the pomegranate seeds and bake 15-20 mins. (Until meat thermometer indicates between 160 and 170 F. )
Stir the coriander into the vegetable mix and heat through. Serve the chicken on top of the vegetables, with the juices and remaining pomegranate seeds poured over.
***************
Me? I like to serve this with a roasted beet salad topped with goats cheese, flat leaf parsley and a balsamic vinaigrette. But you could pair it with a nice rice pilaf and green salad and be just as happy, or maybe some couscous made up with sliced almonds and currants. However you serve it, make sure you do so with friends - friends with whom you are happy to toast and say 'to the past, the present, and future.'
This, this - this is the meaning of food.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Go and Make This! Midsummer Risotto
Recently I did a quick list on Facebook, of my fifteen favorite cookbooks. This was a slightly esoteric list, as it quickly became clear from the comments that most people don't even own fifteen cookbooks, much less fifteen favorites.
One that made my list was Moosewood Restaurant Low-Fat Favorites: Flavorful Recipes for Healthful Meals. Now I am aware that fat isn't Public Enemy Number One like it used to be, way back in 1996 when this was published. What I've tended to do with these recipes is treat them as a jumping-off point, and if I feel a judicious dollop of sour cream or shredding of parmesan across the top would add to the experience, I don't hesitate to throw it on there.
Having said all that, I made this risotto recipe tonight, and with the barest sluicing of olive oil in the pan to soften onions, you have yourself a full meal that incorporates all the best tastes of summer. Any of you with the mad gardening skillz out there could definitely do this from your own little raised bed. I, on the other hand, was grateful for farmer's market bounty. And a few leaves of basil from my failed garden.
So here ya go folks: make this for dinner tonight. It is good for the dieters, the food-allergy sufferers, the picky kids who only like tomato-flavored things, and for the folks trying to imagine what to do with zucchini (STILL) and with a few ears of leftover corn. And most importantly, it is good for the folks who just want something delicious for supper that they won't still be digesting on Labor Day.
Midsummer Risotto
2 C tomato juice
3 C water or vegetable stock [I just use chicken stock, but I'm not a nutty vegan type. Yet.]
1 vegetable bouillon cube
3 C fresh or frozen corn kernels
1 C minced onion
2 tsp olive oil
1.5 C arborio rice
2 C diced zucchini
1 tsp salt
1 C chopped tomatoes
2 Tbsp chopped fresh basil
ground black pepper to taste
Combine the tomato juice, water/stock/ and bouillon cube in a pot and bring to a simmer. Transsfer 1 C of the broth to a blender, add 1.5 C of the corn, and puree until smooth. Stir the pureed corn into the simmering broth. Set aside the remaining corn kernels.
In a separate, heavy saucepan [I suspect they're angling for Le Creuset here], combine the onions and the oil and saute for abt 5 minutes, until softened. Reduce the heat to medium-low. Add the rice, stirring with a wooden spoon to avoid breaking the grains, until the rice is coated with oil.
Ladle about a cup of the broth into the rice and stir constantly for several minutes, until the liquid has been absorbed. Add the zucchini and another cup of broth. COntinue to stir frequently, adding a cup of broth every few minutes for the next 15 minutes, until all of the broth has been added and the rice is tender but firm. Add the reserved corn, the salt, tomatoes, basil, and pepper to taste. Cook for another minute or so and serve immediately.
***********
They suggest serving as a first course with Garlic Dill Fish, or as a main course with Broiled Portabella Mushrooms as a side. (Clearly the book was written before vegetarians got so very very tired of being served Grilled Portabella Mushrooms at every blessed meal out.) In Googling this recipe, I noted that many people served something like it with chicken. I think that would be nice. But honestly? It was me and the kids at the dinner table, and I just served up big bowls of it & grated parmesan over the top for a little protein. Plenty of veggies, a nice rice, and a bit of cheese? It's all you need in the last gasps of summer.
One that made my list was Moosewood Restaurant Low-Fat Favorites: Flavorful Recipes for Healthful Meals. Now I am aware that fat isn't Public Enemy Number One like it used to be, way back in 1996 when this was published. What I've tended to do with these recipes is treat them as a jumping-off point, and if I feel a judicious dollop of sour cream or shredding of parmesan across the top would add to the experience, I don't hesitate to throw it on there.
Having said all that, I made this risotto recipe tonight, and with the barest sluicing of olive oil in the pan to soften onions, you have yourself a full meal that incorporates all the best tastes of summer. Any of you with the mad gardening skillz out there could definitely do this from your own little raised bed. I, on the other hand, was grateful for farmer's market bounty. And a few leaves of basil from my failed garden.
So here ya go folks: make this for dinner tonight. It is good for the dieters, the food-allergy sufferers, the picky kids who only like tomato-flavored things, and for the folks trying to imagine what to do with zucchini (STILL) and with a few ears of leftover corn. And most importantly, it is good for the folks who just want something delicious for supper that they won't still be digesting on Labor Day.
Midsummer Risotto
2 C tomato juice
3 C water or vegetable stock [I just use chicken stock, but I'm not a nutty vegan type. Yet.]
1 vegetable bouillon cube
3 C fresh or frozen corn kernels
1 C minced onion
2 tsp olive oil
1.5 C arborio rice
2 C diced zucchini
1 tsp salt
1 C chopped tomatoes
2 Tbsp chopped fresh basil
ground black pepper to taste
Combine the tomato juice, water/stock/ and bouillon cube in a pot and bring to a simmer. Transsfer 1 C of the broth to a blender, add 1.5 C of the corn, and puree until smooth. Stir the pureed corn into the simmering broth. Set aside the remaining corn kernels.
In a separate, heavy saucepan [I suspect they're angling for Le Creuset here], combine the onions and the oil and saute for abt 5 minutes, until softened. Reduce the heat to medium-low. Add the rice, stirring with a wooden spoon to avoid breaking the grains, until the rice is coated with oil.
Ladle about a cup of the broth into the rice and stir constantly for several minutes, until the liquid has been absorbed. Add the zucchini and another cup of broth. COntinue to stir frequently, adding a cup of broth every few minutes for the next 15 minutes, until all of the broth has been added and the rice is tender but firm. Add the reserved corn, the salt, tomatoes, basil, and pepper to taste. Cook for another minute or so and serve immediately.
***********
They suggest serving as a first course with Garlic Dill Fish, or as a main course with Broiled Portabella Mushrooms as a side. (Clearly the book was written before vegetarians got so very very tired of being served Grilled Portabella Mushrooms at every blessed meal out.) In Googling this recipe, I noted that many people served something like it with chicken. I think that would be nice. But honestly? It was me and the kids at the dinner table, and I just served up big bowls of it & grated parmesan over the top for a little protein. Plenty of veggies, a nice rice, and a bit of cheese? It's all you need in the last gasps of summer.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Chocolate Guinness Cake
We're all lost for words around here. This cake was *that* good. And as such, I give you the unadulterated recipe, directly from Nigella's pen, nary a word altered. This is worth the bottle of Guinness. In fact, those Lenten non-drinkers out there may just have found their solution to the St Patrick's holiday. Seriously folks, run off and make this cake NOW.
Chocolate Guinness Cake
This cake is magnificent in its damp blackness. I can't say that you can absolutely taste the stout in it, but there is certainly a resonant, ferrous tang which I happen to love. The best way of describing it is to say that it's like gingerbread without the spices. There is enough sugar – a certain understatement here – to counter any potential bitterness of the Guinness, and although I've eaten versions of this made up like a chocolate layer cake, stuffed and slathered in a rich chocolate frosting, I think that can take away from its dark majesty. Besides, I wanted to make a cream cheese frosting to echo the pale head that sits on top of a glass of stout. It's unconventional to add cream but it makes it frothier and lighter which I regard as aesthetically and gastronomically desirable. But it is perfectly acceptable to leave the cake un-iced: in fact, it tastes gorgeous plain.
FOR THE CAKE
1 cup Guinness
¾ cup sour cream
1 stick plus 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 eggs
1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract
¾ cup unsweetened cocoa
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 cups superfine sugar
2 ½ teaspoons baking soda
FOR THE TOPPING
8oz Philadelphia cream cheese
½ cup heavy cream
1 ¼ cups confectioners' sugar
Preheat the oven to 350°F, and butter and line a 9 inch springform pan. Pour the Guinness into a large wide saucepan, add the butter – in spoons or slices – and heat until the butter's melted, at which time you should whisk in the cocoa and sugar. Beat the sour cream with the eggs and vanilla and then pour into the brown, buttery, beery pan and finally whisk in the flour and baking soda.
Pour the cake batter into the greased and lined pan and bake for 45 minutes to an hour. Leave to cool completely in the pan on a cooling rack, as it is quite a damp cake. When the cake's cold, sit it on a flat platter or cake stand and get on with the frosting. Lightly whip the cream cheese until smooth, sift over the confectioners' sugar and then beat them both together. Or do this in a processor, putting the unsifted confectioners' sugar in first and blitz to remove lumps before adding the cheese.
Add the cream and beat again until it makes a spreadable consistency. Ice the top of the black cake so that it resembles the frothy top of the famous pint.
Excerpted from Feast: Food to Celebrate Life by Nigella Lawson. Copyright © 2004 by Nigella Lawson. Photographs by James Merrell. Reprinted with permission of Hyperion. All rights reserved.
Chocolate Guinness Cake
This cake is magnificent in its damp blackness. I can't say that you can absolutely taste the stout in it, but there is certainly a resonant, ferrous tang which I happen to love. The best way of describing it is to say that it's like gingerbread without the spices. There is enough sugar – a certain understatement here – to counter any potential bitterness of the Guinness, and although I've eaten versions of this made up like a chocolate layer cake, stuffed and slathered in a rich chocolate frosting, I think that can take away from its dark majesty. Besides, I wanted to make a cream cheese frosting to echo the pale head that sits on top of a glass of stout. It's unconventional to add cream but it makes it frothier and lighter which I regard as aesthetically and gastronomically desirable. But it is perfectly acceptable to leave the cake un-iced: in fact, it tastes gorgeous plain. FOR THE CAKE
1 cup Guinness
¾ cup sour cream
1 stick plus 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 eggs
1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract
¾ cup unsweetened cocoa
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 cups superfine sugar
2 ½ teaspoons baking soda
FOR THE TOPPING
8oz Philadelphia cream cheese
½ cup heavy cream
1 ¼ cups confectioners' sugar
Preheat the oven to 350°F, and butter and line a 9 inch springform pan. Pour the Guinness into a large wide saucepan, add the butter – in spoons or slices – and heat until the butter's melted, at which time you should whisk in the cocoa and sugar. Beat the sour cream with the eggs and vanilla and then pour into the brown, buttery, beery pan and finally whisk in the flour and baking soda.
Pour the cake batter into the greased and lined pan and bake for 45 minutes to an hour. Leave to cool completely in the pan on a cooling rack, as it is quite a damp cake. When the cake's cold, sit it on a flat platter or cake stand and get on with the frosting. Lightly whip the cream cheese until smooth, sift over the confectioners' sugar and then beat them both together. Or do this in a processor, putting the unsifted confectioners' sugar in first and blitz to remove lumps before adding the cheese.
Add the cream and beat again until it makes a spreadable consistency. Ice the top of the black cake so that it resembles the frothy top of the famous pint.
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