Friday, September 16, 2011

Roasted Kale and Quinoa

Something about the crispness of roasted kale goes perfectly with light and fluffy quinoa. This has become our go-to pairing with our Co-op's house-made, local lamb sausages for a quick and easy (but absolutely mouthwatering) late-night dinner, but it would also go well with chicken or fish or a simple chickpea recipe.


Ingredients
1/2 cup red quinoa (firmer and nuttier)
1/2 cup white quinoa (lighter and fluffier)
Olive oil
1/2 med to large yellow onion, chopped
1 1/3 cups chicken broth
1 bunch red kale, cut crosswise into 1 1/2 inch pieces, rinsed very well, and dried
Kosher salt

Combine the red and white quinoa in a sieve and rinse, then soak in cold water for 10-20 minutes. Preheat oven to 425 degrees.

Heat a glug of olive oil in a pot over medium heat. Sauté the onion until soft and translucent. Meanwhile, rinse and drain the quinoa well, then add it to the onion and sauté for a few moments more. Add the broth and bring to a boil. Cover, turn the heat down to low, and simmer for 20 minutes.

Drizzle a baking pan with olive oil, add the kale, drizzle with more olive oil, and toss to coat well. When there are about 15 minutes left on the quinoa, slide the kale into the oven and roast for 15-18 minutes until the pieces turn crispy and the stems are soft (you'll want to remove it from the oven once in the middle and turn the pieces over so they crisp evenly. If it's spread out in a single layer, it will cook more quickly than this, and if it's more than three layers deep, you might need a few extra minutes).

Sprinkle the kale with kosher salt, and serve over the quinoa.

Serves 3-4 (but note that once you're properly addicted to roasted kale, 1 bunch serves 2 people at most).

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Pickles

There has been, I'm afraid, a distinct lack of pickles in our household since the Great Deprocessing of Aught Ten, which has struck some of us as a deep and abiding tragedy. So when Delikatesse cucumbers appeared in our produce box along with a suggestion to pickle them, we insightfully remarked, with our typical culinary eloquence: "Ooooh, pickles!"


I had pictured pickling as some involved, painstaking process involving special jars and effort and jets of steam (not sure where I got the steam idea, but it's definitely in my inner mental pickling picture). Turns out it involves none of these, takes less than ten minutes, and produces absolutely delicious, crunchy, tart, delightful pickles.


Make them. Eat them. Promise yourself that you'll bring some to your friends. Delight in your generosity. Eat a pickle to celebrate it. Sorrowfully notice that you seem to have no pickles left. Make more.


Ingredients (recipe adapted from our produce box insert)
About 6-8 crunchy, short-and-fat cucumbers, cut lengthwise into halves or quarters
1 cup good quality white wine vinegar
1/4 cup water
1 1/2 tsp kosher salt
1/4 cup chopped spring onion (could sub red onion, or a little less shallot)
Big handful parsley, chopped
2-3 tsp sugar
1 tsp pink peppercorns (optional but highly recommended)

Pack the cucumber spears into a glass tupperware or other container. Combine the rest of the ingredients except the peppercorns in a pot and bring to a boil, then turn off the heat. Pour over the cucumbers, add the peppercorns, and let sit for about half an hour to cool. Cover the container tightly and stick it in the fridge for at least three days.

After 2-3 days, you can taste one and adjust the salt or sugar if needed (ours were a bit too acidic and so we added a bit more sugar...this will depend on the sweetness of your vinegar).

We assiduously and selflessly tried our pickles every day for a week, in the name of Science and also in the name of that deep, primal, and no doubt universal "Ooh! A pickle!" response upon opening the refrigerator door, and concluded they were best on Days 5 and 6. But you should probably conduct your own tests, just to be sure.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Pardon Me, Waiter, but There's Some Champagne in My Fruit Cup

Okay, let's say you're stranded on a desert island with only one coconut husk, a bottle of sparkling Viognier, and some strawberries and figs. On the surface, this would seem like a horrible situation -- do you use the coconut husk as a glass to drink the champagne, thereby missing out on dessert, or do you use it as a bowl for a fruit salad, but miss out on the champagne? (Obviously, you can't just drink the champagne out of the bottle, since you don't want to risk looking like a lush when the cruise ship drops by to rescue you.)


Fear not, sea-bound readers. We have discovered the perfect solution to what is surely an age-old dilemma. Just make sure to only frequent desert islands with free Wi-Fi so you can refer back to this and other single-husk recipes as needed.

Ingredients
Ripe, fragrant strawberries, sliced crosswise (or any berries)
Fresh figs, cut into quarters or sixths
Sparkling Viognier or champagne (you'll probably want to stay on the sweeter side unless your fruit is very sweet)

Combine the fruit in single-serving dishes. Drizzle each serving with a slosh of champagne, and let sit for 2-3 minutes before serving.



P.S. In other news, look what photo was recently picked to feature on FoodPornDaily!
(Thank you to Ann at Il Fiorello for directing us to the website!)

Monday, September 5, 2011

Baby Lettuces with Trombocino and Tomato

It may be September, but summertime ain't over till the fat lady sings about tomatoes not being in season anymore.


Ingredients
2-3 handfuls mixed baby lettuces
2 cups grated trombocino squash (if you can't find this, zucchini might work in its place), squeezed gently to remove a bit of the excess water if it's very juicy
1-2 cups sliced tomatoes (if large, halve or quarter before slicing)
Several sprigs cinnamon basil, chopped (can sub any other basil)
Olive oil
Sherry vinegar
Salt
Freshly ground white pepper

Whisk about 3 parts olive oil to 1 part sherry vinegar in a small bowl to form an emulsion. Add a pinch or two of salt and a liberal dusting of white pepper.


Toss the lettuce in a salad bowl with enough vinaigrette to lightly coat. Add the grated trombocino and drizzle with a little more vinaigrette, then top with the tomatoes and a sprinkling of basil (note that cinnamon basil and fino verde are both stronger than sweet basil, so adjust the amount down or up accordingly). Drizzle with another spoonful or two of vinaigrette, and serve.

Serves 2 as part of a light summer dinner. Toss gently before serving onto plates.

Friday, August 26, 2011

Confessions of a Tomatophile

The truth of the matter is -- and I tell you this, internets, in the strictest confidence -- I used to feel decidedly ambivalent about tomatoes. In the sense that, when I saw a tomato, I would often astutely remark: "EWWW, tomatoes." I was young at the time, and prone to sweeping culinary generalizations. Loud and sweeping. I was very young, after all. This was several months ago, at least.


No, seriously, I really didn't like tomatoes as a child, and after two to three minutes of soul-searching, I have decided it wasn't my fault. Because they were square, mass-produced, supermarket tomatoes bred to be shipped rather than eaten, without a trace of that amazingly addictive ripe-tomato aroma, and without a trace of the corresponding taste. Tomatoes to me were kind of sour, often mealy, reddish things that were apparently Good For You. I did not meet a real, fragrant, vine-ripened, glowing tomato until much later. And once I did, I announced (loudly, and with perhaps a modest hint of my old tendency toward sweeping generalization): "TOMATOES ARE THE MOST AMAZING WONDERFUL THING EVER IN THE SOLAR SYSTEM POSSIBLY GALAXY OR UNIVERSE HEY PUT THAT DOWN YES I AM PLANNING TO EAT ALL OF THESE GO GET YOUR OWN SALAD INGREDIENT."


This year, we are actually growing our very own tomatoes for the first time, which may or may not mean that I have been spending large portions of the summer seated cross-legged on the concrete next to them peering at them anxiously and muttering things like "Come on bee, go pollinate the flower. No, over here. Over here, stupid bee! Bee! Where are you going??" and "This stupid tomato plant doesn't even have any tomatoes. I think it's a dud. Maybe we should just pull it out" and "A TOMATO A TOMATO THERE'S A TOMATO" and "C'mon, stupid tomato, get red! Why won't this tomato get red?" and "LOOK AT ALL THE RED TOMATOES!!!!!!!!!!"


When you find yourself with fresh, fragrant, perfectly ripe tomatoes from your garden or farmers' market or CSA box, you can do many things, but here is the simplest and possibly still our very favorite.


Ingredients
Perfectly ripe, fragrant tomatoes
Good-quality olive oil
Kosher salt
Optional:
Balsamic vinegar
Fresh basil
Freshly ground black pepper


Cut the tomatoes into wedges or slices. Drizzle with olive oil, and sprinkle with salt. Let sit for at least five minutes, and preferably 10-20 before serving (the salt draws out the flavor of the tomatoes). You can also sprinkle them with balsamic vinegar and freshly ground black pepper, and/or fresh basil leaves (whole or chiffonade).

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Science. Also Chickpeas.

This just in: Put down the low-fat chips, and step away from the uber-processed diet food. According to recent animal research published in Behavioral Neuroscience (and nicely summarized here), laboratory rats that were fed potato chips made with a fat substitute later gained more weight, compared to otherwise identical animals that ate the regular, high-fat potato chips. The researchers point out that our bodies use taste as a cue to expect calories. When those calories don't arrive (because the food has been made with fat or sugar substitutes), it can short-circuit our bodies' natural ability to regulate caloric intake, resulting in overeating later on.

Just the latest in an ever-growing body of research supporting the basic thesis that we're built for eating whole foods.

Speaking of which, we found fresh chickpeas in our CSA box a couple of weeks ago. You may recall my surprise last year upon discovering that home-cooked chickpeas were so much tastier than their canny cousins. Well, this was kind of like that. In the sense that, if you ever find fresh chickpeas, you should immediately do the following:


1. Get them.

2. Shell them. (This is easy. Nothing like fava beans.)

3. Cook them. (Because they're fresh, rather than dried, they cook quickly, in just a few minutes. We cooked ours with spinach, a little garlic, cumin, paprika, rosemary, and thyme, adapting one of our favorite Spanish recipes from a Penelope Casas cookbook).

4. Eat them.

5. If necessary, use your fork to defend your plate from any greedy dining companions.



Friday, August 19, 2011

Shaved Summer Squash Salad


This is an easy, elegant, and flexible recipe that has us addicted even after weeks of cooking summer squash. The amounts and proportions are flexible, too -- you can do this with a single zucchini for a light, cool garnish to complement a heavier main course, or use the equivalent of 1-2 medium-sized zucchini per person for a side salad. The Parmesan can be adjusted to taste -- I like making shavings that are about an inch long and scattering enough of them so that there's about one in every other bite.

Ingredients
Summer squash
Good-quality Parmesan cheese
Small handful flat leaf parsley or fresh tarragon, chopped
Olive oil
Sherry vinegar or lemon juice
Salt and black pepper
Optional: A couple handfuls of baby arugula, a slice of prosciutto, halved cherry tomatoes for garnish

Wash and dry the summer squash, trim the ends, and then slice very thinly (one easy way to do this is to use a carrot peeler to shave off thin slices from one trimmed end of the squash to the other). Next, shave a few pieces of Parmesan per salad (you can use the peeler again here).

Whisk about three parts olive oil to one part vinegar or lemon juice together in a bowl to form an emulsion. Add salt, black pepper, and the fresh herb to taste.

Drizzle enough vinaigrette over the squash slices to lightly coat, and toss gently (add the arugula here if you're using it). Adjust ingredients to taste. Arrange on plates, sprinkle with the Parmesan shavings, and serve.



Saturday, August 13, 2011

Sauteed Green Beans with Balsamic Reduction

I may have cast some texture-related aspersions in the general direction of green beans awhile back, and feel compelled to clarify.


Ahem.


I have always loved green beans (since at least three or four days ago). Their texture is not squeaky (when made as follows) and they are completely addictive (when tossed with a balsamic reduction) and I love them (when they are not squeaky and when they are tossed with a balsamic reduction).

There. Now I can heap a good six servings of these on my plate without feeling quite so hypocritical.



Ingredients
Olive oil
1 clove garlic, slivered
2 big handfuls green beans*
Salt
Chicken broth
Balsamic vinegar
8-10 basil leaves, chiffonade
Freshly ground black pepper

 

Heat a glug of olive oil in a wide pan over medium heat. Add the garlic and saute for a minute or so until it softens a bit, then add the green beans and a pinch of salt and toss to combine. Let the beans sit in the pan for a minute or two, then toss and let them sit again until they start to brown a little on at least one side.

Add a slosh of broth (start with a couple tablespoons or so -- just enough to create some steam) and cover the pan immediately. Let the beans steam for a couple of minute, then check them for tenderness and repeat if necessary.

When the beans are al dente, uncover the pan and boil off any remaining broth. Add about a tablespoon of balsamic vinegar to the side of the pan and allow it to simmer for a few seconds until it starts to thicken, then turn off the heat and toss the beans to coat. About half the volume of the vinegar will steam off, leaving just the sweet reduction.

Add the basil and a little black pepper, toss to coat evenly, and serve.

Serves 2 as an easy side dish, and works well for broccoli, too (with or without the basil). You can also substitute white wine for the broth, which will give the dish just a hint of tartness instead of being sweet.



*Unless your hands are unreasonably large, in which case you should ask someone with reasonably-sized hands to measure for you. This is primarily directed at a certain oversized husband who tends to unintentionally double all my hand-based measurement approximations when left to his own devices.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Grilled Peach Salad with Rosemary Vinaigrette

We took a cooking class at our co-op recently and finally learned how to grill peaches. This is important, because as far as we can tell, there was Life Before Grilled Peaches and then there is now. (Now is decidedly better, as time periods go. We have thought carefully about this, while a breeze scented with caramelized peaches wafts from the grill, and while gazing at grilled peaches, and while eating them. Mouths full, hyperventilating slightly from the big gulps of peach-scented air, we say to each other "Mrahmaba gralled pashas." And it's true. Gralled pashas are certainly mrahmaba. Just make some. You'll see.)


Here is what you do: Find some peaches that are ripe but fairly firm -- they should be fragrant, yielding a bit to pressure from your thumb, but not yet very soft. Cut each one in half along the seam (which I'm sure is not what it's actually called on a fruit, but you know what I mean). Remove the pit.

Preheat your grill to 500 degrees.* Set each peach half cut-side down in a plate of sugar, then lay face up on a plate or cutting board (or sprinkle the cut side with a little sugar, if you prefer to use a bit less). This helps the peaches caramelize later on the grill.


When the grill is hot, brush with olive oil, and place each peach half cut-side down, oriented so that the grill marks will go crosswise (perpendicular to where the seam was). Grill for 5-7 minutes until there are golden grill marks along the underside. To prevent the peaches from sticking, you can move them back and forth just a bit every couple minutes (so that they slide along the grooves of the grill marks, rather than making new marks).

Remove the peaches from the grill and let cool for a few minutes, then slice into wedges (parallel to where the seam was). You can grill these an hour or two ahead of when you want to use them, but don't slice till just before you serve (the slices get a little brown if they sit for too long).

Use to top a salad. This recipe is especially good for when you have guests and want to serve something that looks fancy but is actually pretty easy to throw together. It is also good for when you don't have guests and want to eat lots of grilled peaches.


Ingredients
Vinaigrette:
3 tbsp olive oil
1 tbsp sherry vinegar
1/2 tsp minced fresh rosemary leaves
Pinch salt
Freshly ground black pepper

1/4 lb mixed baby greens (or sub baby arugula if you want a bit more of a kick to it), washed and dried well in a salad spinner
1 oz mild goat cheese (e.g., North Valley Farms Chevre)
2 tbsp sliced almonds, toasted (scatter in a pan over medium heat on the stovetop and toast for a few minutes, shaking from time to time, until golden brown and fragrant.)
2 peaches, grilled and sliced as above

Whisk the oil and vinegar together to form an emulsion, then stir in the rest of the vinaigrette ingredients. Drizzle about three-quarters of the dressing over the baby greens and toss well to coat the leaves.

Serve in a big bowl or on individual salad plates. Crumble the goat cheese over the top, sprinkle with almonds, and top with the grilled peaches. Drizzle the remaining vinaigrette over the peaches, and serve.

Serves 4.


*You can also do this in a grill pan, which is what our cooking instructor did, and she had it on medium heat.