Reunited and it tastes so good

Blog, I know I did you wrong. For months I left you cold for my other blog. A wedding blog, of all things! Ridic. But that's all over now and I realize how much I missed you. Blog, baby, will you take me back? I just want to cuddle up with you and muse about pasta, not rant about the stupid wedding deejay.

Here's the catch, though: I want to talk about cooking in my new married life because there is a lot to say. Blog, is that okay with you? Is it okay that I don't always make my dishes quite as frugally as I used to? (Marriage has its financial rewards.) Is it okay that I have cut all yellow squash from my dinner repertoire? (Marriage involves compromise.) Is it okay that I no longer subsist on raw cabbage from time to time to maintain my girlish figure? (Marriage is a commitment to stay together through thick and thin, and I take that commitment quite literally, especially the thick part.)

Funny how my last post was about pre-wedding dieting. HA! I say to that, Ha! How things have changed. While I have not exactly been "letting myself go" just yet, I've enjoyed reconnecting with two long-lost friends, Meat and Carbs. We're just letting bygones be bygones or, more accurately, letting backflab be backflab. No big deal. But the real reason for our renewed friendship is this whole married life thing. Special Someone and I like to sit down for dinner and enjoy a meal together when we're both home. I like to cook more than he does, plus my tolerance for Steak-umms is non-existent-to-quite low, so I end up doing most of the preparations. But my single gal style of cooking cannot keep up with this man's idea of a normal portion or a filling meal. I am starting to comprehend the challenge my mother used to face nightly, cooking for her bottomless pit of a husband, three ravenous sons, and an equally gluttonous daughter (back in my youthful days of turbo-charged metabolism -- man, I miss those days).

Anyway, if I were to cook traditional Economical Epicurean-style meals for Special Someone every night, he would get too skinny (and I'm still in that newlywed phase where I think we need to eat the same thing, together, every night, so for now making our own separate dinners is not an option). And no amount of Cream of Poverty soup could ever sate this fellow. So it's a trade-off: either he gets skinny or I get fat. It's more fun getting fat, so without too much further ado, I present my original recipe for the most compliment-inducing meal I have ever made for him. (Not to get all "here's a man-pleasing meal to please your man" on you -- this is genuinely delicious, and though it's not very innovative, it is surprisingly quick and inexpensive to make, and will last you for days if you're not married to Special Someone.) 

Recipe: Penne with Vodka Sauce, Sausage, Shrimp, Spinach, and Sundried Tomatoes (There's got to be a less unwieldy name for this, but at least I lay it all out there, and anyway Pasta with Five Esses sounds a bit contrived.)

I know what you're thinking: "Surf and turf? No way that's economical!" True, it ain't rice and beans, but it's not as bad as you think. (My recommendations for cutting costs are in the ingredients list.) Also, I must confess I totally cheated on this one and bought jarred vodka sauce. This was the more economical thing to do since we don't have any vodka in our house for some reason, i.e., I drank it all, and cream is darn expensive. The vodka sauce I bought was this fancy, all-natural Whole Foods brand that was on sale for $3.99 (I happened to be there eating free samples for lunch and felt the sudden urge to make penne alla vodka for dinner). I'm still including homemade vodka sauce in the recipe since it's super easy and convenient to make if you're the kind of person who manages to keep vodka and cream in the house at all times. You're the kind of person I aspire to be some day.

With all the spinach in this dish, it's a complete meal. The only accompaniment it may want for is some crusty bread.

Makes 8 servings (more like 4 in our household) and reheats well for lunch and dinner over the next couple days. Total time, including prep: 30 minutes

4 T olive oil
10 garlic cloves, finely chopped (sounds like a lot, but it's part of the vodka sauce; if you use store bought vodka sauce, just use 3 or 4 cloves)
1 small- or medium-sized onion, sliced into thin strips
2 spicy Italian sausage links, casings on, sliced into thin discs (feel free to use more sausage, but in the spirit of frugality I decided to save the rest of the package for lentils and sausage later in the week)
1/2 lb. frozen precooked peeled and deveined shrimp, any size, thawed or mostly thawed, tails removed (about half a bag)
a handful of sundried tomatoes, chopped (a nonessential but surprisingly inexpensive ingredient that adds excitement to any dish!)
1 lb. dried penne pasta
1 28-oz. can whole peeled tomatoes
1/2 t salt
1/2 t sugar
1/4 c vodka
1/2 c heavy cream
6 oz. baby spinach (or the contents of one bag)
additional salt to taste and freshly ground pepper
1/2 c freshly grated Parmesan
some parsley or basil (optional -- I make mine herbless and it's fine that way)

Special Equipment: a stick blender (or regular blender or food processor)

Place the olive oil, onions, and garlic in a Dutch oven and turn on the heat to low-medium (not the usual way, but starting garlic and onions in cold oil draws out more flavor than heating the oil first). Once things are getting a little crackly, add the sausage, shrimp, and sundried tomatoes and stir everything around for about 3 minutes (the sausage and shrimp are precooked so you really just need to heat them up). If you are using store-bought vodka sauce, dump in the entire jar along with the spinach. Cover the pot and go cook your pasta.

If you are making homemade sauce, remove the shrimp and sausage from the pan and set aside. Turn up the heat to medium, add the tomatoes with their liquid along with the salt and sugar to the Dutch oven, and stir around for a couple minutes to break everything up a bit (vodka sauce traditionalists tend to puree the tomatoes first and then add them to the pot -- do this if you don't have a stick blender, but otherwise you can blend everything at the end and it will have some good savoriness from the sausage and shrimp that were cooked in the same pot). Add the vodka, and while the sauce is simmering, get to work cooking the pasta: add about six cups of water to a large pot and set it on high heat, throw in a tablespoon or so of salt once the water boils, then add the pasta and boil for 10 minutes. Drain and return to the pot, reserving a bit of the water.

At this point the vodka sauce is definitely done, so turn off the heat, stir in the cream, and if you have not already pureed the tomatoes, puree the sauce with the stick blender or transfer it to the regular blender. Stir the pasta and the shrimp and sausage into the sauce, then stir in the spinach. Do not fear that this pasta dish you made has turned into a salad -- all that spinach will wilt almost beyond recognition. Add a bit more salt if you like and some freshly ground pepper. Serve with the Parmesan cheese and the herb(s), if desired.

Vacation Inspiration

A couple weekends ago, I tried to relive a shortened version of last year's Florida trip. My friend Sarah and I flew down to Tampa, surprised her sister, Emily, who lives in the area and who took the incredible photograph above, and spent a few days cruising around St. Pete Beach and thereabouts. Back in Washington, there were still 10-foot tall, prison-gray snowbanks lining the streets, so I was grateful to be anywhere but home.

Sarah and I rode bikes from Dunedin to Tarpon Springs, a Greek fishing community and evidently the nation's natural sponge headquarters - who knew? We had a delicious early dinner Mykonos, a restaurant near the piers, where I ordered a baked lamb-and-orzo special. It was so good I would've jumped up and done the hora in its praise, had my legs not been so sore from the first bike ride of the year.

I came home to the chilly air and lingering snow, determined to make a baked lamb-and-orzo special at home. I know you're scoffing, "Lamb? And she calls herself economical." But this impressive dish that serves up to 10 people can be prepared for under $20, easily. Allow me to break it down for you.

Lamb shoulder, like pork shoulder of the previous post, is on the fatty side, so it tends to be a lot cheaper than leg of lamb or lamb chops. I found a big ol' 3-pounder at Shopper's for $15, and according to my mother there are better deals out there (try Costco or Middle Eastern or Indian markets). The other main ingredients in the dish - orzo and canned tomatoes - are cheap, and the rest of the ingredients are likely already in your cabinets or fridge. When the lammy is slow-simmered in a simple tomato sauce, then baked with the orzo, the results are a meaty miracle (4 out of 4 other Owens who tried it, plus 1 out of 1 Sanders, concur on this point).

I poked around the internets for a recipe, and was initially disappointed to find that the nearest version of this dish came not from some wrinkled yaya but from Martha Stewart (adapted from Greek cooking authority Vefa Alexiadou, in case you were worried my recipe is not authentic enough). Some of the steps in Martha's adaptation seemed a bit gratuitous to me, so I cut them out with no ill effects (e.g., she has you cook the lamb and tomatoes in a skillet and the orzo separately in a pot, when all you really need is one Dutch oven to do everything). I also lightened up the amount of butter and olive oil and it's still delicious, so you're welcome. I seem to be lacking eloquence lately - or maybe it's all the time now - so I will conclude simply: OMG DELICIOUS.

Recipe: Lamb and Tomatoes Baked in Orzo

Adapted from Martha Stewart. Makes 8-10 servings, and keeps well for a few days. The leftovers are delicious. Although the cooking time is long, the prep is easy. Sauteed spinach in garlic is the perfect accompaniment.

1/4 C olive oil
4 to 6 cloves of garlic, peeled and sliced
3 lbs. boneless lamb shoulder, cut into 1 or 1.5 inch chunks
1 15-oz. can crushed tomatoes
1 15-oz. can diced tomatoes
1 T red wine vinegar
1/2 t sugar
salt and pepper
1 lb. orzo
2 T butter
chopped rosemary from 2 or 3 sprigs (optional)
2.5 C hot water (more may be necessary)
kefalotiri cheese for sprinkling (unless your name is Pappas, you probably don't have this on hand; use Parmesan instead)
chopped fresh parsley (optional)

Heat the oil in a large Dutch oven over medium heat, add the garlic, and add the lamb in batches, being sure not to overcrowd. Brown the lamb pieces on all sides and remove from the pot, reserving the liquid. Add the tomatoes, vinegar, sugar, and a hearty dash of salt and pepper, and bring to a simmer. Add the lamb back to the pot and simmer in the tomato mixture for 45 minutes. Preheat oven to 350. Turn off the burner and add the orzo, butter, rosemary to the pot, and give it a good stir. Add the water to the pot, give it a stir, and place the pot in the oven. Bake for about an hour, or until orzo is al dente, checking on the pot continuously to make sure the dish doesn't seem too dry - if it does, add about a cup of hot water at a time and stir it around. Remove from oven and stir in cheese and parsley.

(Above photo courtesy of the talented Emily Burnett Magdics. Check out her work!)

Stoo for yoo

Ever since I read Ruth Reichl's first memoir, Tender at the Bone, I had been fixing to make pork and tomatillo stew, a recipe that came out of her hippie days at a co-op restaurant in Berkeley. I finally made it two Sundays ago for a herd of hungry snow travelers, and it was just as good as I expected. So good, in fact, that it even stole the spotlight from a big beautiful molcajete full of freshly made guacamole.

I had meant to make it with beef, since I wasn't sure that every visitor to my house was pro-pork, but there had been a run on all bovine products at my Safeway. Plus, pork is cheaper - especially when you stray from the recipe's recommendation of lean pork and choose a big, fatty shoulder roast (about $5.50 for a 3-pound hunk). The fat adds flavor to the stew, and I for one think extra fat is a very welcome thing when you've spent the day plodding through thigh-deep snow or shoveling out a driveway.

I had never cooked with tomatillos before, but what a fun little green fruit they are! They're also remarkably cheap. I bought most of the stew's ingredients, with the exception of the pork, at the Latin market on the ground floor of my office building in NoPe. Here a 2-lb package of tomatillos cost only $1.50 (found some other great bargains, too: limes are 25 cents each; a huge bunch of cilantro is 50 cents; a can of Goya black beans is 75 cents). To cook with tomatillos, you must remove the papery husks, and they may need to be scrubbed if there's still paper stuck to the skin. With the husks removed, a tomatillo looks like a cross between a tomato and a green pepper (their stems are similar). It's the main ingredient in many salsa verdes, and it adds a nice, tart, almost vinegary flavor to this particular stew.

The stew disappeared in a matter of minutes. While I do believe second and third helpings are the sincerest forms of flattery, I would have loved to have kept more to myself. But if you are looking for an easy and cheap dish to please - I mean, really please - a big crowd, this is it.

Recipe: Pork and Tomatillo Stew

Adapted from Ruth Reichl. Makes about 12 servings (per my quantities - you can find the original recipe here). I'm sure it would also be very good with chicken or beef in place of pork, or you could even omit the meat and add extra beans for a veg version. It tastes even better the second day.

1/4 C cooking oil
cloves of one whole head of garlic, peeled
3 lbs. pork shoulder roast, cut into cubes
salt
pepper
2 bottles dark beer (I used Negra Modelo in keeping with the Latin theme)
12 ounces orange juice
1 to 2 lbs. tomatillos, quartered
1 to 2 lbs. Roma tomatoes, peeled and chopped (alternatively, you could use canned tomatoes)
2 large onions, coarsely chopped
1 bunch of cilantro, chopped and divided
2 jalapeño peppers, chopped
2 14-ounce cans black beans
juice of 1 lime
sour cream, for serving (optional)

Heat oil in a very large Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add garlic cloves, then add pork in batches so as not to crowd, and brown on all sides. Remove pork as the pieces get brown on all sides, and add salt and pepper.

Meanwhile, add beer and orange juice to a medium-sized pot over high heat. Add tomatillos and tomatoes, bring to a boil, lower heat to a simmer, and cook about 20 minutes or until tomatillos are soft. Set aside.

When all pork is browned, pour off all but about a tablespoon of the oil in the pan. Add onions and cook about 8 minutes, or until soft. Stir, scraping up bits of meat. Add chopped cilantro and pepper and salt to taste. Put pork back into pan. Add tomatillo mixture and chopped jalapeños. Bring to a boil, lower heat, cover partially and cook about 2.5 hours. Check for seasonings, add black beans and lime juice and cook an additional 10-15 minutes. Serve with a dollop of sour cream in each bowl, if desired.

Notes from Snowdown 2009

Some lessons for throwing a holiday party during the "Blizzard of the Century," or is it just "Blizzard of the Decade"? Either way, I am still trapped in a knee-deep winter wonderland, with not much to do besides write in this damn blog.

1. Obviously, make tons of food and have ample booze reserves, even if the attendance list is reduced by more than half due to inclement weather. Traipsing through two miles' worth of blizzard builds a big appetite. There were surprisingly few leftovers, and we were clean out of beer a little too early.

2. Maybe we would've had more beer left if I didn't drink about 28 Sierra Nevada Celebration Ales. Whoops. Also, try to stay awake until all your guests leave (or crash on your couch, still wearing their snowboots, as the case may be).

3. This is a no-brainer, but party guests will eat anything if it's wrapped in bacon: paper clips, lint, rubber bands, Christmas ornaments. But they will especially like devils on horseback, which is fancyspeak for bacon-wrapped, walnut-stuffed dates. (Actually, I think official devils on horseback contain pecans, not walnuts, but it really doesn't matter when there's bacon involved). Buy one package of bacon (not the thick kind), one container of pitted dates, and one bag of walnut halves. Chop the walnuts so they are thin enough to fit into the dates. The dates and walnuts will make sweet, sweet love, wrapped in a delicious bacon blanket. Gets me all hot and bothered just thinking about it. Oh, use kitchen scissors to cut the slices of bacon crosswise and roll them around the dates. Place them on a baking sheet in a 500 degree oven and bake till the bacon is crispy, about 10 minutes. Serve with toothpicks.

4. It's really easy to make a lot of varieties of crostini, and people will also go wild for these. If you don't have time/inclination to bake your own bread, buy a good quality pre-sliced crusty loaf. Cut each slice into halves or thirds. Set aside and make a couple different toppings, like caramelized onions (the fabulous Miriam aka Hungry Grad has a good recipe) or my sherry mushrooms (just slice up a bunch of mushrooms and half an onion and cook in a couple tablespoons of butter on medium-high heat; add a sprinkling of sugar to aid delicious brownedness; and splash in a good helping of sherry or red wine to make a reduction sauce). These go great spread on slices of bread with goat cheese or blue cheese, or just plain. Assemble and heat in the oven on a baking sheet a few minutes before serving, so everything is nice and warm and melty.

5. Ooh, I almost forgot! Another delicious crostini uses just two cans of white beans, drained; a few cloves of garlic, minced; a third cup or so of olive oil; the juice of half a lemon; salt and pepper; and some chopped, fresh sage and parsley. Mix it all together and dollop onto slices of bread.

6. I don't care what the food snobs say, baked brie is a timeless party classic. Don't bother buying or making puff pastry, though. Just use refrigerated crescent roll dough, a small wheel of Brie, and some kind of jam or chutney (see #7 for recipe for delicious pear chutney, below). Spread out the crescent roll dough as if making a pizza. Place the wheel of brie, rind on, on top of the dough and spread jam or chutney over the rind. Wrap up the brie in the dough as if it's a gift (it truly is!). Brush a bit of egg on top of the dough to get a golden crust. Bake in a 375 degree oven for 20-25 minutes, or till golden brown. Serve with crackers or slices of French bread.

7. Another gem from Laurie Colwin, my favorite food writer of all time: pear chutney. This stuff has many great uses, among them as a spread for baked brie or a dip for devils on horseback. In a heavy pot on the stove, cook together 3 or 4 large, firm pears (cored but not peeled, and chopped into chunks), 2 minced garlic cloves, 2 t salt, 2 t hot paprika, 2 t ground coriander, 1/2 C vinegar, 1 C raisins (I used Craisins in a pinch), and 1 T ground ginger. When the pears are tender add 1/2 C brown sugar and cook it down till "sludgy but not liquidy." This is not in Colwin's directions, but I like to grind up everything in the food processor if using as a dip.

8. See the recipe for Krunk Jewce, Inquisition Punch, or whatever you want to call this delicious sangria-esque concoction made with very well-disguised Manischewitz - also courtesy of the fabulous and clever Miriam. Truly, a breakthrough in Kosher mixology.

9. Per request, here's my recipe for these delectable little treats that are sort of a cross between chewy molasses cookies and gingersnaps, based on Shirley Corriher's "Cracked Surface Crunchy Gingersnaps" (I make them so that they are not all that crunchy). Before baking, they are rolled in regular granulated sugar, which lends them a festive, shimmery cast once they come out of the oven! They are spicy and gingery and perfect for this kind of weather. Cream 1 and 2/3 C sugar and 1.5 sticks butter, add 1/4 C molasses and blend well. Blend in egg on low speed. Set aside and whisk together 2 and 1/4 C flour, 2 t baking soda, 1/2 t salt, 1 heaping T ground ginger, 1 heaping t ground cinnamon, 1/2 t ground cloves, and 1/2 t ground nutmeg. Add the dry mixture to the wet and form a dough. Roll dough into 1.5 inch balls, then roll them in a plate full of sugar. Bake on baking sheets lined with parchment paper for 8 minutes in a 350 degree oven. Remove, and leave on the baking sheets for another minute or two before removing to a plate.

10. If setting out a vegetable platter, know that carrots are more popular than celery. Just FYI.

11. If people can't tell what something is, they are not very likely to eat it. Curse you, weird feta and red pepper dip with overly pungent briny cheese tang!

12. This is not food- or drink-related, but it is perhaps a lesson in resourcefulness. Say you want to build a fire, but you forgot to collect enough kindling wood and now all the sticks in your yard are buried under several feet of ice. If you are anything like me, about half the furniture in your house has been picked up off the side of the road. You are very likely to own a recycled, left-for-dead Ikea wicker chair that has a big hole in the seat and is pretty much unsafe for anyone but a cat to rest upon. Allow your burlier guests to destroy this chair - it will keep them occupied for at least half an hour. Then, throw the pieces to the flames! You will have the hottest, most raging pyre of all time, and your frostbitten friends will be very happy they traveled near and far to enjoy it.

The Fried Egg Sandwich Gets Its Due

Is there anything better than a well-made fried egg sandwich? I submit that there is not.

I finally exhausted my supply of Thanksgiving leftovers and have yet to make another trip to the grocery store; hence, many fried egg sandwiches have been consumed this week. Lest you think this post is a cop-out for a real recipe, I must stress that not all fried egg sandwiches are created equal and that it is imperative that all human beings know how to make a good one.

The fried egg sandwich has not been a very talked-about item in my lifetime, possibly because for years eggs were demonized as agents of high cholesterol. Pair them with the words "fried" and "sandwich" and you've got yourself a figurative heart attack. Eggs have made a big comeback in recent years, I think due to two things: their low cost and the faddishness of raising chickens in the city. Rarely a day goes by without me stumbling across the term "farm eggs" in some blog. I used to think the term was redundant - don't all eggs come from a farm? - but in this usage "farm" is meant to imply "happy hen haven." So, it's now very common to see hundreds of different recipes for baked eggs, poached eggs, and the newly fashionable migas, but what about the quietly delicious and not-that-bad-for-you fried egg sandwich? It demands our attention.

I've noticed at homes and roadside diners alike that some people equate frying with cooking at high heat. When it comes to eggs, nothing could be further from the truth. For, as we know, even when you hard-boil eggs, you are not actually boiling them (or at least you shouldn't). Fried eggs must be fried slowly and at low heat, whether you like yours sunny side up or over hard. Turning the burner knob any more than a quarter of the way around will produce eggs the consistency of latex gloves, and no one wants to eat that.

It does not matter whether you use white or wheat bread, but one thing is for sure: the bread must be toasted. The nice crunch of toast provides a great textural contrast to the softness of the egg. If the bread is not toasted, the sandwich lacks interest.

A piece of cheese is always encouraged, and although it can be nice to experiment with different cheeses, I find that sharp cheddar is always the best default. But I advise against white cheddar, if only for aesthetic reasons. An orange-hued cheddar against the dark yellow egg yolk evokes a beautiful sunset, and white cheddar simply does not achieve that effect.

Recipe: Fried Egg Sandwich The Right Way
Makes one sandwich. In the summertime, when there are good tomatoes, this delicious sandwich can become something sublime.

a drop of cooking oil (any kind you want)
1 egg
2 pieces of sandwich bread (any kind you want)
1 slice of sharp cheddar (Trader Joe's is the best value)
salt and pepper

Add the oil to a nonstick skillet or cast iron pan, and set it to low-medium heat. I use very little oil and just try to spread it around well, but you can use more if you want. When you cook eggs, the pan should preheat, so let the oil sit at this temperature for about five minutes, then reduce the heat to low. Break the egg directly into the pan and cook at least until it sets, about 3 minutes. Meanwhile, toast the bread. Depending on how you like your eggs, you have a number of options: remove the egg now if you like fairly runny eggs; let it cook another couple minutes without flipping if you like sunny-side up; let it cook another couple minutes and then flip and cook yet another couple minutes if you like over-easy; let it cook another few minutes, flip, and let it cook for another five to seven minutes if you like over-hard (the yokes are completely solid). Remove, set on one piece of bread, add salt and pepper to your taste, and top with the slice of cheese. Put it all together with the other piece of bread and enjoy.

International Potato Week 2009: Friday

I probably should be writing about potato soup instead of potato salad, given how cold it is today, but I don't think Potato Week is complete without this recipe (also, all the potato soups I've made are pretty run-of-the-mill variations on baked potato soup). However, my potato salad is the best there is, and here's why: it's not actually my potato salad but that of Ina Garten, also known as the Barefoot Contessa.

Say what you will about Ina's unabashed love of all things East Hampton, but the lady can cook. If you've ever watched her Food Network show, you may have noticed she's also really good at befriending gay Broadway producers, finding new uses for Pernod, and making eyes at her elfin husband, Jeffrey. But an economical cook she is not. She makes scrambled eggs with cream. She tops spaghetti with caviar. She fills pot pies with lobster tail. She makes cheese steaks with New York strip. And her house! Good grief, it's one of those cedar-shingled, Dutch-style, 8,000 square foot "cottages" that's practically dangling in the ocean. Oh, Ina, won't you let me spend the night? I can picture it now: the aroma of fresh-baked coffee cake and "good quality bacon" will find its way to one of the guest rooms, where I'll be slowly waking up from the best sleep of my life, on crisp, white, $400 sheets. I'll come downstairs, help myself to a Campari Orange Spritzer, and make cheerful chitchat with the two or three gay friends who've stopped by en route to Manhattan. In the afternoon, we'll set out in your gleaming silver Benz and hit the farm stand, the bakery, the butcher shop, and the fishmonger. Then we will come home, "assemble" our lunch -- I know how you favor assembling over cooking -- and carry it out to the beach in a wicker picnic basket. When the day is done, cute little Jeffrey will give me a lift to the LIRR, we'll talk about his Henry Kissinger days, and I'll be depressed the whole train ride home and probably for the next month. Oh, Ina, I want your life!

But I can't have Ina Garten's life, so I will have to live vicariously through her recipes - at least the few I can afford, such as this one for potato salad. This is not the hardboiled-egg-and-mayo-drenched version that ends up at every potluck and barbecue. That stuff is for the proles. This kind is high-class, with a punchy vinaigrette and a smattering of fresh herbs. There's a lot of ingredients, but you can definitely cut some of them out and still make a damn good potato salad. Here's Ina's recipe, with my tried-and-true suggestions for cheapening things up in parentheses.

Recipe: Aspirational Potato Salad
Adapted from The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook. Makes 4 to 6 side dish servings.

1 lb small white boiling potatoes
1 lb new potatoes (you can make this with just one kind of potato; Ina happens to like the color)
2 T good dry white wine (I say you can use bad wine, or none at all)
2 T chicken stock (I've left this out before because I didn't have any. NP. You can also leave it out if you want to make this a vegan dish.)
3 T Champagne vinegar (who has Champagne vinegar? Use whatever vinegar want, but definitely use it.)
1/2 t dijon mustard (crucial -- I might even bump it up to a whole t)
2 t Kosher salt (or table salt if that's all you've got)
3/4 t freshly ground black pepper (non-negotiable)
10 T good olive oil (if, by "good," you mean the huge $5.49 bottle at TJ's? Then, yes, good.)
1/4 C minced scallions, white and green parts (hey, at least she's using the whole plant. I prefer to leave these in, but I've made the salad without. If you have some of the other herbs, they won't be missed too much.)
2 T minced fresh dill (Ina LOVES her dill. It definitely goes well with potatoes, but again, if you have some of the other herbs you can leave it out.)
2 T minced fresh flat-leaf parsley (ditto scallions and dill. You can also use the declasse curly parsley, if that's what you got.)
2 T julienned basil leaves (ditto scallions, dill, and parsley)

Put the potatoes in a large pot and fill with enough water to cover them by a few inches. Bring to a boil and continue boiling for 20 to 30 minutes, until they are just cooked through. Drain in a colander with a towel over it and allow them to steam for another 10 minutes. Once they are cool enough to handle, cut the potatoes into quarters (alternatively, you can cut them before boiling and then boil for a shorter time, as I prefer to do). Toss them with the wine and chicken stock (if using; if not, just set aside, or mix in the dressing if you have already made it).

To make the dressing (which you can do while the potatoes cook), whisk together the vinegar, half a teaspoon of salt, and the pepper, and slowly whisk in the olive oil to make an emulsion. Add the vinaigrette, the rest of the salt, and the herbs to the potatoes, and toss. Serve warm or at room temperature (cold is also just fine).

Above photo from Ina's column for House Beautiful

International Potato Week 2009: Wednesday

Yesterday our potatoes took us to the Canary Islands; today we are off to Calcutta. Amazing how a tuber can transport you from your dingy office in doleful NoPe to a vibrant exotic locale. The following South Indian recipe is adapted from Madhur Jaffrey's Indian Cooking, and it produces the most pleasantly piquant potatoes you will ever eat. Seriously. If you don't take my word for it, take Madhur's: "Can you imagine cubes of potato encrusted with spicy, crisply browned ginger-garlic paste? Add to that a hint of fennel, if you want it. That is what these potatoes taste like." As she suggests, they are the potatoes of your dreams.

Recipe: Sookhe aloo (dry potatoes with ginger and garlic)
Adapted from Madhur Jaffrey's Indian Cooking (1983). Makes 2 servings.

If you already have the spices, this dish costs about 50 cents to make. Madhur Jaffrey's recipe has you boiling the potatoes "in their jackets," then letting them cool, peeling them, and finally frying them. If you are a purist about ethnic recipes, go ahead (all Madhur's potato recipes involve this long process), but I find it's a whole lot quicker to just peel the potatoes raw and fry them -- and the results are still delicious. I add a few glops of plain yogurt at the end, for tartness and texture. The spice paste would also be great as a marinade.

5 T vegetable oil
1 t fennel seeds (optional, but highly recommended)
2 large baking potatoes, peeled and cut into 1-inch cubes
3 cloves garlic, peeled
1 2-inch piece of fresh ginger (or 1 t ground ginger)
1/2 t ground turmeric
1 t salt
1/2 t cayenne pepper
2 T water
A few spoonfuls of yogurt (optional)

Special equipment: mortar and pestle or food processor

Heat the oil in a nonstick or cast iron skillet over medium-high heat. Add the potatoes and cook, stirring occasionally, till they are starting to brown, about 20 minutes. While the potatoes are cooking, make the spice paste: in a food processor or with a mortar and pestle, grind together the garlic, ginger, turmeric, salt, and cayenne, and add the water a little bit at a time. Set aside. Add the fennel seeds to the pan and cook for an additional two minutes. Stir in the spice paste and cook for yet another two minutes. Remove from heat and stir in yogurt, if using. Serve warm.

International Potato Week 2009: Tuesday

This next potato recipe comes from Jose Andres, owner of Jaleo and a few other DC-area restaurants and boisterous personality behind the PBS cooking show, Made in Spain. I always order the papas arrugas -- baby fingerling potatoes with a to-die-for cilantro and cumin mojo verde -- so I was delighted to catch the Made in Spain episode where he shows you how to make them at home. They're easy, cheap, and positively divine, or "astonishing!" as Jose would say. I do not have exact directions for the original recipe so the following is my own interpretation, and it has served me well. Also, you should definitely watch Made In Spain, even if you don't like to cook. You will find yourself talking like Jose and dreaming of Iberia.

Recipe: Papas Arrugas
Adapted from Jose Andres. Makes 4 side dish servings.

The sauce alone is a keeper. You can serve it with anything -- chicken, fish, other veg, bread. I eat it with a spoon. My stomach growls at the very thought. Baby fingerling potatoes are hard to find, but you can use any fingerling or even boiling potatoes. Right now Trader Joe's has bags of these cute little mini boiling potatoes, which I have been using.

Don't be afraid of the amount of salt you are using; it's more a part of the cooking process than the actual flavor. The salt is used to make the skin cute and crinkly -- apparently how they do it in the Canary Islands, where this dish originates.

2 lbs. fingerling or boiling potatoes
kosher or sea salt, lots of it
2 cloves garlic, crushed
1 bunch of cilantro, well-washed, including stems
1 t ground cumin
1 t pimenton (smoked paprika)
1/2 C olive oil
1 T sherry vinegar (optional -- but Jose adds this to everything)
salt and pepper to taste

Special equipment: mortar and pestle or food processor

Add the potatoes to a large pot, and add enough water to the pot to just barely cover them. Add about a quarter cup of salt, and cook on medium-high heat for 25 minutes, or until most of the water is evaporated and the potatoes are soft. Drain in a colander and set aside. If the potatoes have too salty a coating for your taste, you can wipe them off with a paper towel.

While the potatoes are cooking, make the sauce: with a mortar and pestle or the food processor, grind together the garlic, cilantro, cumin, and pimenton. Slowly add the olive oil, grinding all the while, till everything is fully incorporated. Add the vinegar if you're using it and salt and pepper to your taste, and serve with the potatoes.

International Potato Week 2009: Monday

There is probably already a national potato month or something like that, but I can't wait any longer. I am on a ravenous potato rampage, and I also haven't written anything in awhile (I'm sure you have been completely adrift without me). I formally declare the first week of November International Potato Week, which seems fitting since it's also right after Halloween -- potatoes are great diet food -- and coincides with the dark days of the Time Change -- potatoes are great comfort food, if you'll forgive my use of that stupid term.

I will be posting a favorite potato recipe every day, Monday through Friday. Some are invented, some are adapted, and all are unanimously believed to be delicious by those who have tried them. I wouldn't want anyone thinking I am blinded by love for the tuber (such an accusation has been brought against me before). Because it seems appropriate for the season, I may also include a recipe or two for sweet potatoes. But I have only five days, and there are about a billion things one could do to a potato, so I may end up sticking to the lighter-fleshed variety. We shall see how this exciting week unfolds!

Recipe: Olive Oil Mashed Potatoes with Feta and Roasted Broccoli
Makes about 3 main course or 5 side dish servings. Lasts up to five days and reheats well in the microwave.

This recipe's title bears the style of a food snob, but I couldn't think of anything better to call it without getting all Rachael Ray: "Cheesy Green Tater Smash'ems" or "EVOO Greeked Out Broccatoes" were options. Its main ingredients, all fairly common in most households, include potatoes, olive oil, some kind of green vegetable, and some kind of cheese -- making it essentially a deconstructed stuffed baked potato, but without the butter and sour cream. And, like the potato itself, the recipe is very versatile.

I came up with it when I found that the last few potatoes left in my 20-lb. bag from Costco had started sprouting coral reef-like growths. Most people in developed countries would throw the potatoes away at this point, but I was unfazed and just peeled them to make mashed potatoes. I also had a couple stalks of broccoli that were starting to turn, and wanted to add those to the mix. What came from these two humble old vegetables was one of the best and easiest potato dishes I have ever eaten. Of course, you do not need to wait till your potatoes and broccoli become potential health hazards to make this dish, but it is a good way to use up aging refrigerables.

While the potatoes boil, you cook the broccoli or whatever green vegetable you want to use. Spinach, chard, and other leafy greens are nice alternatives because you don't have to cook them; they just wilt in the warm potatoes. Also, the cheese does not have to be feta -- just about any cheese will be good.

3 large baking potatoes
2 stalks of broccoli
2 T olive oil, plus an additional half cup of olive oil
1 to 2 t hot or smoked paprika
2 t fresh rosemary leaves, chopped (optional)
1/4 C crumbled feta cheese
salt and pepper to taste

Heat oven to 400 degrees. Peel the potatoes, cut them into chunks, and add them to a large pot filled with about 8 cups of water. Bring to a boil and continue to boil for about 25 minutes. While the potatoes are cooking, chop the broccoli stems and florets into bite sized pieces. Toss them with the 2 tablespoons of olive oil and the paprika, then spread them evenly on a baking sheet. Bake for 15 minutes, then set aside.

When the potatoes are soft when pierced with a fork, drain them in a colander and return to the pot, but place on a different burner that is set to low heat. Add the quarter-cup of olive oil along with the broccoli, feta, and rosemary and mash with a potato masher till you get a consistency you like. Add salt and pepper to your taste (with the feta and paprika, it might be seasoned enough for some tastes, but I add an extra teaspoon or so of salt and a vigorous grinding of pepper). Serve warm.

"Sometimes we all got to swim upstream"

[If you can identify the above lyrics without googling, I will make you breakfast.]

Attention, shoppers! Trader Joe's now sells Smoked Salmon Pieces for $1.99 a pack! Now you can soak up some alpha omegas, enjoy wholesome salty deliciousness, and stay true to your Economical self.

What are Smoked Salmon Pieces? Why, they are pieces of smoked salmon, just like the kind you might buy if you were rich! The main difference, I guess, is that they are smaller than the ones normally encountered on a bagel. I think these are the leftover bits that are not big enough to sell for six or eight bucks. But, you do the math and tell me which is the better deal!

I've been buying Smoked Salmon Pieces as if the apocalypse were coming. Lately, my work-a-day lunch is crackers and cream cheese with the smoked salmon and a few capers. (To keep costs even lower, I buy generic brand cream cheese by the block - it's a lot cheaper than the kind that comes in a tub.) Last night I decided to be a bit more creative and, if I may boast, made one of the most delicious quiches I have ever eaten.

Recipe: Deconstructed Lox Bagel Quiche
Serves 8, and lasts for about a week. Great hot, cold, or at room temperature. I think it tastes better a day after you make it than it does fresh out of the oven. The custard filling is made with milk instead of heavy cream, so it's a bit lower in fat than most quiche recipes. But the consistency is still very creamy, thanks to the cream cheese (hmm, maybe it is not that much lower in fat than most quiche recipes - so much for my birthday diet). The flaky pastry crust is delicious and easy. Crust is best when the fat mixed into it is very cold, so I recommend putting the butter, after it's been cubed, and the shortening into a bowl and freezing them for about 10 minutes before mixing.

1 Basic Pastry Dough (see recipe below); a store-bought quiche crust, though not as delicious, is a time-saving alternative
about 8 or 10 dried beans for weighing down the crust during parbaking process
4 eggs
1.5 C milk
3 T flour
1/2 t ground mustard
1/2 t salt
1/2 t ground pepper
about 1/4 block of cream cheese, cut into 1/2 inch pieces
1 medium tomato, chopped into 1/2 inch pieces
2 T capers
2 T minced shallots (optional, but recommended)
Smoked Salmon Pieces (use the whole bag if you're feeling spendy; if not, just use about half of it)
a few teaspoons of chopped fresh parsley (optional; dill would also be good if you have some)

Press the pastry dough into the bottom and sides of a pie or tart pan, making sure it's very thin and evenly spread. Poke several holes in the bottom and sides with a fork. If using a pie pan, use the fork to create decorative indentations around the edges of the crust. Chill in the fridge for a half hour. Heat oven to 375 degrees. Remove crust from fridge, and scatter the dried beans around the bottom to weigh it down. Bake it for 20 minutes; remove from oven, remove the beans, and bake the crust again for another ten minutes. Remove from oven and cool on a rack, keeping the oven turned on.

Meanwhile, make the custard: whisk together the eggs, milk, flour, mustard, salt, and pepper. Set aside.

Once crust has cooled down, scatter the cream cheese, tomato, capers, shallots, salmon, and parsley around as if decorating a pizza. Pour the custard over the crust, and bake for 40 to 45 minutes. The center might be a little jiggly, but not liquid. Cool on a rack for at least 20 minutes before serving.

Recipe: Basic Pastry Dough
Adapted from the Gourmet cookbook. Makes enough dough for 1 regular pie pan or 10-inch tart pan. There will probably be extra dough, which you can shape into muffin tins or freeze for later. This is a really good recipe for flaky pastry, and it has become my standby for quiche, tart, and pie crusts. When I use it to make a dessert, I add a tablespoon of sugar.

1.25 C flour
3/4 stick cold, unsalted butter, cut into 1/2 inch cubes
2 T cold vegetable shortening (yes, Crisco -- don't hate, appreciate)
1/4 t salt
3 T ice water

In a medium bowl, blend together the flour, butter, shortening and salt with your fingertips until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs (a few lumps can be pea-sized, but the rest should be crumbly). Drizzle in the ice water evenly and continue mixing until a dough is formed. Squeeze a handful or so -- if it crumbles apart, add more water, just a tablespoon at a time, till the dough comes together. (For even less work, you may do all the aforementioned steps in a food processor -- make coarse crumbs and a few pea-sized pieces, then add the water and pulse a few times till dough is formed.)

Turn the dough onto a work surface and divide into four portions. Using the heel of your hand, push down on each portion once to distribute the fat. Roll them all together to make a single ball of dough again. Cover it in plastic wrap and chill in the refrigerator at least an hour.

Eat more beets

From whence this back flab and these love handles? I thought we were supposed to lose weight in the summertime.

But the summer is over, I'm about to turn 27, and I'm fatter than ever. Well, probably not fat by American standards, but heavier than appropriate for my frame. I think I'm even starting to grow jowls.

Time to stop making this and that, and stick to just vegetables, legumes, and whole grains. In particular, I must stop baking so much. Even when I bake for the sole purpose of gift-giving, I end up eating the raw dough equivalent of about 12 cookies. I also need to stop buying lunch, so that's adios to tacos con chivo and empanadas from NoPe's many fine dining establishments. And I really need to cut back on the alcohol, or at least modify my habits. By the way, did you know a frozen margarita contains roughly 700 calories? Vodka martinis from here on out, hold the vermouth and olive. Better yet, I'll just have ice water and get bored after 30 minutes at the bar. What fun my 27th year is going to be.

I can seek both consolation and a smaller waist in the crunchy deliciousness of good salads, like this one I made recently. Partially inspired by a recipe in Gourmet's September issue, it contains beets, which took me all of 27 years to learn to like. The beet was just about the only vegetable I disliked, and wrongfully so. I mean, it's a cheap root vegetable with some edible greens attached! It's like we were made for each other! In this salad the beets are chopped into cute little matchsticks, making the transition to beetlove a lot easier than it might be if you tried to boil up a bunch and eat them in one sitting. It's similar to dating: you think the guy's ill-mannered and unattractive at first -- and let's not even talk about his sweating problem and tendency to overuse "whatnot" -- but slowly, surely, you will cave, and come to appreciate that he's actually good for you and has a nice dark pinkish-purple interior. I get a little crazier with every passing year. Happy birthday to me!

Recipe: Beginner's Beet and Apple Salad

Makes 6 side dish servings. Inspired by Gourmet, whose recipe is just beets, parsley, and goat cheese. No goat cheese in my version, and it's fine without. But I still wanted it to be a fairly substantial salad, so I added some greens and an apple, which is also chopped into matchsticks like the beets. This salad is really good, really good for you, and really crunchy! To make it more filling, consider adding walnuts, sunflower seeds, or almonds. Also, unlike most dressed salads, this one actually tastes better the next day. Oh, and if you have just gotten a manicure or you are having tea with the Queen tomorrow, don't make it -- or wear gloves if you do. Beet juice stains like whoa.

2 small beets, peeled and chopped into matchstick-size pieces, plus their greens
juice of half an orange
1 apple, chopped into match-stick size pieces (squeeze a bit of lemon juice onto these -- it will keep them from browning right away)
1 quarter of a medium onion, thinly sliced
1 C loosely packed, chopped fresh parsley (I think some mint in here would also be good)
juice of one lemon (or a bit less if you want to lemonize the apple)
1/2 lb salad greens (arugula, spinach, frisee, or whatever you want)
a big drizzle of olive oil
fresh ground pepper

In a large bowl, stir the orange juice into the beets, then add the apple, onion, parsley, and lemon juice. Add the salad greens and a big drizzle of olive oil and toss everything together. Finish with some pepper.

Making the Most of Mediocre Fruit

Much like crushed dreams and nose hair, mediocre fruit is an unfortunate fact of life. Even in the prime of summertime, even when we buy it fresh off the farm, there is no guarantee against bruises, puckering, or unpalatable tartness. Fruit, I'm inclined to believe, is vindictive - at least that's an easy way to explain why it can go from beautiful to blighted within the span of a short trip home from the market.

It's inhumane to cook a perfect peach or strawberry, but it's well known that heat gives life to lackluster fruit. Too often, though, recipes involving cooked fruit (pies, cobblers, jams) mandate massive quantities, and we economical epicureans feel left out. While we may occasionally reap the harvest of a benevolent neighbor's garden, we rarely find ourselves with, say, two quarts of blueberries or fifteen plums. But what can we do with those three bruised peaches or that pint of just-okay raspberries?

Happily, I offer two delicious solutions, and neither requires more than two cups of homely fruit.

Solution 1: Preserves

I fear canning, with all its sterilization and strange equipment. Plus, most recipes for jams and jellies assume you have an entire kitchen full of fruit ready to be heated and stored indefinitely. I am pretty convinced that, unless your backyard is an orchard, canning is not an economical option. This recipe is perfect for those who prefer not to take fruit preservation seriously.

It should work with any fruit that might be used in jam, though you may want to experiment with sugar and water quantities (if the preserves seem to be too watery as they cook, you can definitely dump out some of the water). You can also experiment by adding different liqueurs and herbs. I made blackberry preserves with Chambord, a raspberry liqueur that I probably hadn't opened since college. I added two tablespoons for extra flavor. A tablespoon or so of red wine might be good, too, especially with stone fruit (peaches, plums, cherries). Below is the basic recipe; double, triple, or half it depending on the quantities you have. It has great conventional uses (e.g., toast, English muffins, PB&J's), but I recommend using it for scones, salad dressing, and PB&C's.

Recipe: Lonesome Preserves

1 lb (2 C) berries or chopped stone fruit
1/4 C sugar
1/4 C water
optional: 1 T fruity liqueur or red wine, 1 cinnamon stick, 1/2 t ground nutmeg or cinnamon, 1/4 t hot red pepper flakes, or 2 T fresh herbs (basil, rosemary, mint, etc.)

Stir together all the ingredients in a small, heavy saucepan. Bring to a simmer over medium-high heat, then reduce heat to medium, keeping at a simmer, stirring frequently, for about 1 hour or till mixture is thickened and reduced by about half. Transfer to a bowl and let cool. If the mixture has a lot of solids (e.g., pits, skin, etc.), pour it into a mesh strainer and use a spoon to push all the liquid out, discarding the solids. Store in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to a month.

Solution 2: Upside-Down Cake

An upside-down cake is the perfect thing when you have only a few pieces of mediocre fruit -- and when you feel like putting in the time to make an upside-down cake. It's not something many people would make on a whim, but it is great when you're trying to impress company. That is, if you don't make the same mistakes I did the first time I attempted this recipe, which comes from Dorie Greenspan's Baking with Julia, the book that came out of Julia Child's last PBS series. (To be precise, the original recipe is Nectarine Upside-Down Chiffon Cake, but you could also use peaches, apricots, plums, apples, pears. Maybe berries? Who knows, give it a whirl and find out!) I didn't bake the cake long enough and failed to butter the springform pan, so what came out the first time looked like this (after I dumped it into a baking dish and let it cook another 20 minutes):


It was bread pudding, not an upside-down cake. Still tasted great, but not my original intent, which was this:


Got it right on the second try -- typical behavioral pattern for this clumsy baker. This upside-down cake is better than any I've ever had, thanks to a winning combination of fluffy texture, almond streusel, and lots of lemon flavor. The baked fruit is, forgive me, just the icing on the cake, so if your fruit looks good enough to eat -- and thus too good to cook -- feel free to go fruitless.

Recipe: Nectarine (or whatever you want) Upside-Down Chiffon Cake
Adapted from Baking with Julia by Dorie Greenspan.

Topping Ingredients:

1/2 stick unsalted butter, cut into 4 chunks
1 C packed brown sugar
2-3 nectarines, peaches, pears, or apples; or 3-4 plums or apricots, and sliced into eighths

Streusel Ingredients:

1/4 C almonds (can also use pecans, walnuts, hazelnuts, etc.)
1/3 C flour
1/4 C packed brown sugar
1 tsp ground cinnamon or nutmeg
1 tsp ground ginger
1/2 stick cold unsalted butter
1/2 C quick cooking (not instant) oats

Chiffon Cake Ingredients:

1.5 C sugar
1 C flour
1 t baking powder
1 t baking soda
1/4 t salt
4 large eggs, separated
1/2 C vegetable oil
1/2 C fresh lemon juice (from 3 small or 2 large lemons)
2 large egg whites

Heat the oven to 350 degrees.

To make the topping, melt the butter in a greased 10" springform pan over medium heat (it's okay to put a springform pan on direct heat). Once the butter is thoroughly melted, remove from heat and sprinkle in the brown sugar slowly and evenly. Press the sugar onto the bottom of the pan so it provides a nice even coating. Then arrange the fruit on top of the butter/sugar layer in an artful circle (or not artful, whatever your style). Wrap the outside of the pan in aluminum foil to keep the butter from dripping. Set aside.

To make the streusel, scatter the almonds on a baking sheet and bake for 7 minutes. Remove from oven and place the almonds in the bowl of a food processor (reserve the baking sheet for later). Once the almonds are cooled, add the remaining streusel ingredients and pulse till you get a consistency of coarse crumbs. Set aside.

To make the cake, sift together 1 cup of the sugar with the flour, baking powder, and baking soda in a medium bowl. Add the salt. In a large bowl, whisk together the egg yolks, oil, and lemon juice. Gradually add the dry ingredients to the egg and oil mixture, whisking all the while. Set aside. Beat all 6 egg whites in a large bowl with an electric mixer with a whisk attachment: start at a low speed and beat the whites until they are foamy and form soft peaks. Increase the speed to medium-high and beat in the remaining 1/2 cup of sugar until whites are thick and shiny and form soft peaks. Fold about 1/3 of the whites into the yolk mixture to lighten it, then fold in the rest till everything is just blended.

Scrape about half the batter into the springform pan, then pour the streusel mixture over it. Scrape the remaining half of the batter in, and set the pan on the baking sheet. Bake for an hour or until the cake is browned and a tester comes out clean. Remove from the oven and allow to cool completely before inverting onto a platter.

Aioli is Ai-mazing

I have discovered the elixir of life: aioli!

Aioli is a garlicky, mayonnaise-like concoction whose main ingredients are traditionally olive oil, garlic, blood, sweat, and tears.

To say I have discovered it is a lie; I think it was very trendy in the late 90s. But I made it for the first time, and discovered there is an easy way to make it that doesn't involve stirring -- ahem, "emulsifying" -- until your arm falls off. The secret lies in the blender.

Now, if you are a baby or expecting one, don't use this method, as it mandates a raw egg. Alas, you must go the traditional mortar and pestle route, which I'm sure is at least as satisfying, if you are willing to put in the time and elbow grease. The vegans will also want to follow the sore forearm method. I'm pretty sure most vegans I know would elect to go this route anyway, egg or no egg -- they are such masochists!

Whatever your creed or condition, you must make this NOW. I served it at a barbecue, to rave reviews. It was perfect spread over some homemade bread, topped with tomatoes and herbs. I also stirred it into chicken salad in lieu of regular mayonnaise, which now seems so unexciting compared to aioli that I'm not sure I'll ever eat it again.

Recipe: Quick Aioli
Adapted from the Gourmet Cookbook. Makes about 1 cup.

1/4 c coarsely chopped garlic (about 8-10 cloves)
1 t salt
2 T olive oil, plus 1 c olive oil
1 egg

In a mortar and pestle, or in a bowl using a fork, mash together the garlic, salt and 2 T olive oil for a few minutes. Add to the blender, and blend till fairly smooth, then add the egg and blend again for a few seconds. On a low setting, slowly pour the remaining 1 c olive oil into the blender in a steady, thin stream (assuming your blender has a removable cap that you can use without making a huge mess -- if not, use the next recipe). It may taste incredibly pungent at first, but will mellow out a bit after a little while. Keeps well in the refrigerator for a few days.

Recipe: Slow Aioli (Vegan)
Adapted from the Gourmet Cookbook. Use the same ingredients for Quick Aioli, minus the egg, and a large mortar and pestle, if you have one, or a medium-size bowl. Mash together the garlic, salt, and 2 T olive oil. Add the remaining cup of olive oil, one teaspoon at a time, whisking vigorously upon each addition. This should take about 20 minutes and will build good forearm muscles.

This is why we're fat

I don't know what's taken me so long to post the Googooberry Pie** recipe, but as soon as I saw this New Yorker review of several "weight-gain books" (as opposed to the more common "weight-loss books") -- all studies of or attempts to account for this country's obesity problem -- I knew I could no longer hold off.

You would think that reading this article would have the opposite effect; upon learning, for example, that 40 percent of young women are too heavy to join the U.S. Armed Forces, I should be more inclined to write about cabbage. But, as we all know, and as this book review elaborates, the human mind is a "calorically demanding organ," so it only makes sense that I immediately thought of the one recipe I know by heart that contains two sticks of butter, a block of cream cheese, three eggs, a whole box of powdered sugar, and a cake mix.

What else could it be but the creation of Paula Deen, Reigning Butter Queen? (Full disclosure: Gooey Butter Cakes are really a St. Louis specialty, but only Paula Deen had the guts, so to speak, to add a cake mix to the mix without apology.) Her Gooey Butter Cakes are so delicious and so popular at her Savannah restaurant, The Lady and Sons, that a Google search yields a countless number of variations: carrot cake, peanut butter, pumpkin, double chocolate, lemon, and on and on till the cows come home -- that is, if they don't tip over first.

At a glance, gooey butter cakes are easily mistaken for ordinary blondies or brownies, but their taste is otherwordly. The cake mix, egg, and one of the sticks of melted butter form a chewy crust, which is then filled with a cheesecake-like mixture of cream cheese, the other stick of melted butter, a pound of powdered sugar, and a big scoop of cocoa powder if you choose to go the chocolate route.

I've made thesed dozens of times, and I've found that Paula Deen's recommended baking time (37-40 minutes) is too long for my oven. You will want to check them first before removing -- the top should be a bit browned and crusty. The fork test will not work here. Gooey butter cakes are supposed to be gooey, after all.

There's not really any need to slice them and remove them from the pan. In fact, it's very un-American to not finish them all in one fell swoop, preferably by yourself, standing over the stove, in nothing but a size XXXL t-shirt. Don't hold back, fatty: eat the whole batch. You're in good company.

Recipe: Googooberry Pie, a.k.a. Gooey Butter Cakes
Adapted from Paula Deen.

**Googooberry Pie: Gooey Butter Cakes' unofficial and more melodic nickname, a result of a hilarious verbal misunderstanding on the part of a family member who will remain anonymous for the time being.

For the crust:
1 yellow cake mix
1 egg
1 stick melted butter, slightly cooled

For the filling:
1 block of plain cream cheese, room temperature
1 stick melted butter, slightly cooled
1 t vanilla
2 eggs, room temperature
1 (16 0z.) box powdered sugar

Heat oven to 350 degrees. In a medium bowl, mix together the cake mix, egg, and butter to form a fairly stiff dough. Press it into the bottom of a 13" x 9" metal baking dish to form a crust. Set aside. Rinse the same bowl, and in it beat the cream cheese till smooth. Mix in the butter, vanilla, and eggs. Gradually mix in the powdered sugar. Pour the mixture over the crust and bake for 30-35 minutes, or until the top is slightly browned and crusty. Remove and let cool before slicing into squares.

Recipe: Chocolate Googooberry Pies

Follow the recipe above, but use a chocolate cake mix for the crust, and add a half cup of cocoa powder to the filling before adding the powdered sugar.

Losing Streak

This ain't my week. The week before was pretty bad, too. And the week before that I had the consumption, or maybe just some terrible cold, and spent most of my time watching either The Real Housewives of New Jersey (the beastliness of those women is captivating!) or various PBS cooking shows on the WETA Create channel (TRHONJ's equally captivating polar opposite). Three weeks later, the hacking cough and general yuckiness still linger on, but at least my 10-hour-a-day TV habit has been cured.

All this time as an invalid, I still never lost my appetite. But despite watching so much Lidia, Julia, Jacques, and that smug but still likeable Chris Kimball and his mad scientist brigade, I've been in a cooking slump (with one exception, which I'll get to in a few paragraphs). Not that I haven't been inspired -- a few nights ago, for example, I decided on a whim to make corn tortillas. Rather, it's the talent and foresight that seem to be missing. Now, I don't own a tortilla press, and had never before considered buying one. That evening, though, plucky resourcefulness was all I thought I needed to get by.

To make corn tortillas, you just make a dough out of 1 part masa harina (similar to corn meal, and available at most grocery stores), three-quarter parts water, and a teaspoon or so of salt. Then you form the dough into smaller balls which you then flatten with a tortilla press. If you don't have a tortilla press, you resort to dangerous and bizarre techniques, such as setting the dough ball on a plastic-wrapped wooden cutting board and thwacking it as hard as you can with a cast-iron pan. The dough never gets flat enough, a hand bone possibly shatters, and the wooden cutting board most certainly shatters. Then your roommate suggests you use a rolling pin, and you marvel at your own stupidity. But, you discover, corn tortilla dough is too brittle for a rolling pin to be very helpful, and you wish you had thought to buy a $15 tortilla press on your last trip to Target or, better yet, made something more sensible to eat, like a sandwich.

But you forge ahead with a crazy look in your eyes. You are also very hungry at this point. So you heat the same cast iron pan you were earlier using as a weapon. The pan gets extremely hot, and the smoke alarm goes off, but you casually wave at it with a piece of your broken cutting board until it stops. You return to your first pancake-thick corn tortilla, which is frying away over a dry, excessive heat for about 30 seconds on each side. You remove it, take a small bite, and think to yourself, "Not bad, if you like your tortillas the consistency of matzoh."

You then fill your tortilla -- which, you are amazed to discover, actually bends -- with the pinto beans that have been sitting on the stove all this time. You think to yourself, "When it comes to legumes, I got mad skillz yo, these pinto beans gonna be the icing on this particle board, I mean tortilla." But, horrors! you take a bite and almost spit it out! You can't understand what went wrong. You had simmered the beans over low-medium heat for a couple hours. You had doused them in delicious spices and herbs like cumin, cayenne, bay leaf, and oregano. You added plenty of salt at the end. And still they taste terrible. You have no reasonable explanation, so you think to yourself again, for maybe the 15th time in three weeks, "Today just ain't my day."

In fact, the past three weeks have been so bad that you desperately search your recent memory for a silver lining, and stop on some delicious sauteed collard greens inspired by your favorite new cookbook, Vegan Soul Kitchen. The thought of this cookbook and its charming author, Bryant Terry, makes you so happy that you open it and turn to its first recipe (the only one you have yet to try), "Citrus Collards with Raisins Redux." You may be in a slump, but at least your arsenal now contains this dish, which has completely changed how you cook collards, and which you will keep going back to again and again.


Recipe: Bryant Terry's Winning Collard Greens

Adapted and renamed from Vegan Soul Kitchen. Makes two gigantic side dish servings. Consider serving it over rice and beans for a very fast, filling, and healthy meal. Also, save the stems from the collards -- Bryant (we're on a first-name basis) also taught me this -- and cut them into one- or two-inch pieces and saute them separately in olive oil and lemon juice till they're just tender. He refers to these cooked stems as "collard confetti." I like to add them to garlicky white beans and tomatoes. People mistake them for asparagus and have no idea they are usually meant for compost!

1 bunch (about 1 lb) collard greens, stems removed
2 T olive oil
3 cloves garlic, minced
handful raisins
juice and zest of half an orange
salt and pepper to taste

Stack a few collard leaves at a time, roll them up, and slice them into strips about an inch wide (this is also known as julienne). Do this with all the collards. Meanwhile, heat the oil in a large pot over medium heat. Add the garlic and saute for two minutes. Then add the raisins and collards and saute for another three minutes, stirring to make sure all the collards get cooked. Add the orange juice and zest and cook for just 15 seconds and remove from the heat. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Ruth Reichl, Mothers, French Canadian Baked Beans: A Love Story

Tomorrow night (Thursday, May 7, at 7pm), Gourmet editor-in-chief Ruth Reichl will be at Politics & Prose to discuss her latest book, Not Becoming My Mother. I'm planning to go, but I don't think I will ever read the book. For now at least, it's available only in hardcover, and the Economical Epicurean would never waste her money that way. And, besides, Not Becoming My Mother is -- surprise -- about Ruth Reichl's mother and, frankly, I'm sick and tired of Ruth Reichl's mother. Within the past few months, I've read two other Reichl memoirs, Tender at the Bone (loved it) and Garlic and Sapphires (liked it). Both of these memoirs center around Reichl's life's work -- cooking and eating. The former is about her years as a burgeoning home cook and then chef, and the latter is about her experience as the New York Times restaurant critic. Both books are engaging page-turners, filled with mouth-watering recipes and a heaping side of angst. (I think I liked Garlic and Sapphires less because I just couldn't sympathize with all the angst that apparently went with getting paid to write about four-star meals for America's most prestigious newspaper. I felt only jealousy, sometimes to the point of rage.)

Another thing these books have in common is a fixation on Reichl's literally and figuratively toxic mother. As "The Queen of Mold," she provides some great material for Reichl's more humorous pages, but for the most part she is a huge source of conflict in her daughter's otherwise enviable life. I really don't need to read any more about this difficult woman, especially since probably most of the books I read involve the tenuousness of mother-daughter relationships as a major theme. Enough, already! But I still can't get enough of Ruth Reichl, so I will go see her anyway. And I hope -- and fully expect -- that her stories of reconciliation and forgiveness are peppered throughout with stories about food, as those stories are what Reichl does best.

That reminds me of baked beans, which I used to think were disgusting. I promise, there is a proper segue on its way. As I discussed in my last post, we celebrated my friend and roommate Mike Sanders' birthday this past weekend with a barbecue. He smoked a brisket, and I made the side dishes, all traditional barbecue fare like cole slaw, macaroni and cheese, potato salad, biscuits, and baked beans. Best supporting role went to the baked beans, hands down. I had loosely followed the recipe for Maple Baked Beans from the Gourmet Cookbook, whose editor is...Ruth Reichl. (There! Segue as promised, though maybe not so proper as I had hoped it would be.)

These beans are incredibly delicious and incredibly easy, despite some lengthy hands-off cooking time. I did a bit of research on the French Canadian origins of this dish, known in Quebec as feves au lard. According to Ken Albala's Beans: A History (yes, I am a dork with a capital D), the Quebecois started making this dish, or at least writing down the recipe, in the 19th century, and would follow almost exactly the directions that now appear in the Gourmet cookbook:

Soak navy beans or Great Northern beans in water overnight. Drain and rinse. Boil covered with 2 inches of water and simmer until the beans are somewhat tender. Place in a bean pot with the cooking liquid, maple syrup, mustard, thyme, a hunk of salt pork and a chopped onion. Bake for about six hours at a low temperature. Add a little more syrup and serve.

For my version, I omitted the salt pork so the dish could be enjoyed by vegetarians and omnivories alike. Because I feared this omission might be detrimental to the depth of flavor, I added a couple teaspoons of chili powder to smoken things up. Due to time constraints, I cooked the beans for a shorter period of time -- and at higher heat, to compensate -- than the Gourmet version calls for. To keep costs down, I also used less maple syrup, and I'm glad I did -- I think following the original recipe exactly would have produced some excessively sweet legumes.

Even though baked beans are a side dish, they have great main course potential. They can be served over rice or barley or a baked potato. In the last hour or so of cooking, you could add some chopped bitter greens, like kale, collards, or mustard greens, for a boost of nutrients and an interesting twist of flavor. You could even eat them in a tortilla or pita, maybe with a sprinkling of cheese. Any way you eat them, you will be thankful for the Quebecois for coming up with the recipe, Ruth Reichl for including it in her cookbook, and Ruth Reichl's mom -- however horrifying she may have been -- for bringing this great epicurean into the world.

Recipe: Feves au Lard, or Maple Baked Beans

Adapted from the Gourmet Cookbook. Serves 12-15 as a side dish. If you're cooking this for just yourself, halve the recipe. You will have no trouble finishing it over the course of a couple days. Maple syrup aside, it costs pittance to make.

1 (16 oz.) bag of dried navy beans
1 medium onion, finely chopped
3 t salt
1 t pepper
2 T chili powder
2/3 C real maple syrup
1 t dijon mustard (the original recipe calls for dry mustard -- use whichever you have or prefer)
6 C water

Soak the beans overnight. Drain, and put them in a Dutch oven. Heat oven to 350 degrees. Stir into beans the onion, salt, pepper, chili powder, maple syrup, and mustard. Add the water to the beans. Bring to a boil on the stove, then cover and bake for an hour and a half, stirring occasionally. Remove cover and bake for another hour or until liquid is mostly absorbed.

Family Jewels

Last night I enjoyed a picture-perfect barbecue at the home of my cousin Kate and her husband, Seth, joined by Kate's sister Liza and Liza's boyfriend, Avi. I brought along as my date a six-pack of Dogfish Head Raison D'Etre, whose brute strength left me still weak in the knees this morning. Heh. A good date, indeed.

The weather was perfect, the conversation lively, the fire pit roaring, and the food excellent. As an added bonus, I learned two important lessons from Kate and Seth's wonderful, casual, al fresco dinner:

1) Boiled potatoes with nothing but salt and pepper on them are underrated and delicious -- and a frugal eater's dream.

2) Grilled chicken need not be dry, if you follow this important step: boil it first! Kate learned this brilliant bit from her mom, my Aunt Mary. No need to boil it very long, maybe 5 or 10 minutes. This way, the chicken is already parcooked and doesn't desiccate away on the open flame.

That reminds me, I have another gem to offer, courtesy of Aunt Mary: her amazing broccoli salad, which I mentioned in my last post and served at Easter. It's been a popular fixture at the past three or four holiday functions, I think. I dare you to find a better way to eat broccoli.


Recipe: Aunt Mary's Broccoli Salad

Adapted from Richmond's Ukrop's Deli via a 1980s Washington Post recipe, which does not seem to be available on their archives. Makes 6-8 servings.

For the salad:

1.5 - 2 C finely chopped broccoli florets and/or stalks
2-3 finely chopped celery ribs
1/2 C finely chopped onion
1/2 C golden raisins [Mary's note: dark is fine]
7 strips bacon, cooked and crumbled [DEO note: omit the bacon if you want to make a vegetarian version]
6-8 large, well-shaped lettuce leaves for serving [DEO note: Mary doesn't serve the salad in lettuce leaves, and it is just fine that way.]

For the dressing:

1/2 - 2/3 C reduced calorie mayonnaise [DEO note: use full-fat mayo if that's what you already have]
1/4 C sugar
1.5 T cider vinegar
1/2 - 1 t seasoning salt
1/8 - 1/4 t freshly ground pepper

Combine all the salad ingredients, except for the bacon, in a medium-sized bowl. Combine all the dressing ingredients and spoon over the salad; stir and cover. Chill 4-8 hours before serving. Top with the bacon. Serve on lettuce leaves (optional).

New Uses for Old Herbs

The feast for Nana's birthday left behind some great leftovers, which sustained me for at least the first half of this past week, but it also left me with a lot of uncooked ingredients languishing in the refrigerator, their dank holding cell, where they lay wilted and guilty in anticipation of their inevitable landfill death sentences (yes, I know I should both compost and avoid metaphors that don't map very well, but now's not the time). The ingredients whose sentences I was most eager to appeal were the fresh mint, parsley, dill, and chives, all expensive and all quick to spoil.

I have heard you can freeze herbs, but, knowing my kitchen habits, the freezer would simply act as a maximum security prison to the fridge's holding cell, both leading to the same imminent death at the trash heap gallows (there I go again). I had to act quickly and, ideally, with delicious results.

While I understand that grocery stores are businesses and need to make money, the cost of fresh herbs nonetheless usually sends me into mild shock. Of course, they are also pre-packaged in such a way that one is forced to buy far more than one ever needs. I know, I should just grow my own, just as I should compost, and I intend to when the weather gets warmer. But this wouldn't necessarily solve the problem of too much herb, not enough time. In my rather limited herb-growing experience, the mint in particular spreads like the smallpox, but wipes itself out before you can say "More iced tea?"

The herbs whose fates I was now debating were too wilted at this point to pass off as a garnish for pasta, soup, or salad. However I was going to use them, I needed to fully incorporate them into the dish in attempt to mask their ages, which, mind you, were not that old, but certainly old enough. I succeeded with the following two recipes -- and have enough tasters (speak up, you guys!) to prove it.

These recipes would be handy for other aging herbs, too. Hummus, especially, is a great "canvas," to quote Sanders, for creative experimentation. In place of the mint and parsley, you could use basil, cilantro, dill, chives, scallions, lemongrass, rosemary, tarragon, and probably some others I haven't thought of. For the bread, I would avoid using the leafier herbs, which might not stand up to all that baking, and stick with the heartier ones like rosemary, thyme, and of course dill and chives. Sage also could be interesting.

The bread and hummus work wonderfully as a pair, but if you already have some antique pita bread, I suggest toasting that and making pita chips as well. The whole point here is to use up old ingredients and avoid buying new ones, so I've included lots of ideas for substitutions where appropriate.

Recipe: Orange-Mint Hummus

Most store-bought hummus is bland, but my homemade hummus is just like me: nuanced, mysterious, sophisticated, exciting, tan in color. Okay, not like me at all. Anyway, this hummus has depth. You might think, "Mint? How strange!" -- but don't worry, it does not make the hummus taste a thing like toothpaste. The mint is subtle, as is the orange juice and zest. You could definitely use lemon juice and zest, which is more traditional; I happened to have only half a lemon, but also a whole orange that had been sitting on my countertop for too long, and the orange makes this hummus even more unique.

1 can chickpeas, drained, or 1 and 1/2 C dried chickpeas, soaked overnight, simmered for about an hour and a half, and drained
1/3 C tahini
1 t salt
1/4 t soy sauce (optional -- feel free to use additional salt instead, or none if you prefer)
3 cloves garlic
1 t cumin
2 T chopped shallots (not essential - I just had half a shallot I wanted to use up)
juice and zest of one large orange (or juice of two lemons, plus zest of one lemon; leave out the next ingredient -- more lemon -- if you go this route)
juice and zest of half a lemon (I was also trying to use up half a lemon; consider this ingredient optional)
2 T water
2 T olive oil (feel free to add more to get a consistency you like)
1/4 C loosely packed mint (or use whatever amount you have, though probably no more than a quarter cup)
1/4 C loosely packed parsley

Pulse everything together in the food processor till well-blended. Makes about 3 cups.


Recipe: Dill and Chive Almost-No-Knead Bread

The basis for this recipe comes from the mad scientists of America's Test Kitchen; only they could've figured out how to improve on a Minimalist phenomenon. I first sampled it at the home of my friends Danny and Miriam (check out Miriam's fantastic blog about cooking on a grad student budget) awhile back, and Danny kindly sent me a scanned PDF of the recipe from Cook's Illustrated. I am pretty sure they added rosemary to their rendition of this bread, which we dipped it in olive oil as a delicious appetizer. It's pretty easy to make -- I don't think I even followed all the steps correctly (typical) -- but it still turned out really well, with a nice, crispy crust and a light, chewy inside. With the time allotments involved, this is definitely a bread best made on a weekend. You need a Dutch oven that can withstand 450-degree heat, and if you don't have one, consider making Cuban bread and adding the herbs before you leave the dough to rise. The advantage of Almost-No-Knead Bread is, quite obviously, that it requires minimal kneading.

3 C all-purpose flour, plus extra for work surface
1/4 t rapid-rise or instant yeast
1 t salt (I like a bit more, and next time I will add another half teaspoon)
3/4 C water, room temperature
1/2 C mild-flavored beer, room temperature (this is not in Mark Bittman's No-Knead-Bread, but is added here for extra flavor. If you do not have beer, consider following the Bittman version)
1 T white vinegar
2 T minced chives
2 T minced dill
Vegetable oil spray (I do not have this, so I lightly brushed vegetable oil over the parchment and the bread)

Whisk the flour, yeast, and salt together in a large bowl. Fold in the water, beer, vinegar, and herbs with a rubber spatula till the dough comes together and looks "shaggy" (not my word, but you will know it's ready when it begins to resemble Snuffy from Sesame Street, texturally). Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and let sit at room temperature for at least 8 hours, or up to 18 hours.

Lay an 18" x 12" sheet of parchment paper inside a 10-inch skillet (or 10-inch shallow bowl) and spray with vegetable oil spray (or brush with vegetable oil). Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead by hand to form a smooth, round ball, 10 to 15 times. Shape the dough into a ball by pulling the edges into the middle with floured hands. Transfer the dough, seam-side down, to the prepared skillet.

Mist (or lightly brush) the dough with vegetable oil and cover loosely with plastic wrap. Let it rise at room temperature until doubled in size and the dough barely springs back when touched, about 2 hours. About 30 minutes before baking, adjust an oven rack to the lowest position, place a large Dutch oven and heat the oven to 450 degrees (although the original recipe says to heat the oven to 500 degrees, I was nervous about my pot, and kept it at 450. The bread still turned out well.).

Lightly flour the top of the dough and score it with a knife. Carefully remove the pot from the oven and remove the lid. Pick up the parchment and the dough and lower them into the hot pot, letting any excess parchment hang over the edge. Cover the pot, and place it in the oven, reducing the heat to 425 degrees, and bake covered for 30 minutes. Remove the lid and continue to bake until the center of the loaf registers 20 degrees on an instant-read thermometer and the crust is deep golden brown, 20 to 30 minutes. Remove the bread from the pot, transfer to a wire rack, and let cool to room temperature, about 2 hours, before serving.