From California, With Love

This is not New Year’s resolution food, at least not unless your goals for 2013 involve incorporating more carbohydrates and fat into your diet. But it’s February, so even setting aside my antagonism toward the whole concept of resolutions, you’ve all had over a month to compensate with whole grains, dark leafy greens, etc., in which case one rich pasta dish isn’t going to utterly corrupt you, or you’ve already fallen off the wagon and this bit of indulgence isn’t going to do any additional damage.

Beautifully silky, creamy and elegant, with the warmth of lightly toasted walnuts and the brightness of good extra-virgin olive oil, this walnut sauce is neither complicated nor time-consuming to prepare. However, there is one catch, and it’s critically important to heed it: you really do need to make this with the freshest, highest-quality walnuts, because it will make the difference between a sauce that’s luscious nutty perfection and one that’s flat and dull or, even worse, bitter or rancid.

My walnuts were backyard-grown, very recently harvested, and lovingly shipped to me from northern California by His Lordship’s cousin. The first time I made this, I did it on-site during a holiday visit with walnuts from the same source. If you’re not lucky enough to have a West Coast connection, either wait until locally-grown walnuts in season are available in your farmers market, or seek out the best vendor you can find, preferably get them still in the shell, and make sure to taste the nuts before trying this recipe. If they don’t taste fresh and mild and sweet, use them for a more forgiving sauce, like pesto.

Slight post-facto edit: A rousing discussion with my Facebook friends made me think of a possible alternative if you can’t get really good walnuts.  Pistachios still in the shell are readily available year-round just about everywhere, and would definitely work as an alternative.  It will taste and look quite different, of course, but it should still give you the nutty, creamy unctuousness that’s the heart of this sauce.  As a bonus, if you have children, it will be entertainingly green and you can tell them it will make them strong like The Hulk.

Pasta with Fresh Walnut Sauce
(Mash-up of two recipes, one from Nigella Lawson’s Christmas Special, and one from Mark Bittman, How to Cook Everything Vegetarian)
Serves 4 as a main course, 6-8 as a side dish

1 slice bread, crusts removed
½ cup cream or whole milk
1 cup walnuts, as fresh as possible and preferably hand-shelled
2 cloves garlic, peeled
½ cup grated Parmesan cheese
Salt and freshly grated black pepper
½ cup extra-virgin olive oil
¼ cup Italian parsley, chopped
1 pound dried spaghetti rigate, fettucini, or other substantial ribbon pasta

Roughly tear up the bread and place it in a shallow bowl, pouring over the cream or milk. While it soaks, very carefully toast the walnuts in a dry pan over medium-low heat, tossing frequently to avoid burning, just until the nuts have barely started to turn golden and release a faint toasty aroma. Allow to cool briefly.

Place the nuts, garlic and cheese in a food processor and pulse a few times, until the nuts are broken up. Add the soaked bread and the liquid, with a hefty few pinches of salt and several grinds of pepper, and run the processor again until a paste forms. With the processor running, pour the olive oil down the feed tube and process just until you have a homogenous sauce that looks like a slightly grainy mayonnaise. Taste and correct the salt and pepper as necessary.

Boil the pasta in very well-salted water until al dente according to the package instructions. When you drain the pasta, reserve a good cup of the pasta water and set it aside. Toss the pasta with the sauce and the parsley, adding as much pasta water as needed to thin the sauce to a creamy consistency that evenly coats the pasta and allows the strands to caress each other instead of clumping. Serve immediately in warmed bowls.

Notes:

All resolution-bashing aside, there are some things you can do to lighten this up just a teeny bit, although it’s never going to be exactly what your doctor ordered. You can use low-fat milk instead of cream, whole wheat pasta and multigrain bread (provided it’s not too dense and chewy), and cut back a bit on the cheese, or you could serve smaller portions as a side dish beside a suitably healthy protein and a very large salad.

This would also work just fine as a vegan dish with non-dairy milk and omitting the cheese entirely, although in that case you’ll need to salt a little more aggressively, and you might want to toast the walnuts a tiny bit darker for added flavor. I’d also be tempted to add a very light grating of nutmeg for complexity.

Read Full Post »

Champagne and Caviar

2013’s New Year’s lentil recipe has the dual advantages of being vegan and also using up any leftover champagne you might have lying around after the New Year’s Eve festivities. It’s also a wee bit clever, given that they’re beluga lentils. (Incidentally, this is the only kind of caviar I could tolerate even before becoming vegetarian, since I was never able to share my mother’s wild passion for genuine beluga.)

This is a perfect mid-week pasta dish for the rest of the year, since it comes together in about half an hour if you time it right, and you can substitute any white wine or even a dry hard cider, French or even plain old brown lentils, and essentially any sort of green vegetable. I was originally going to add broccolini, but it was missing from the crisper when I went to cook, probably because I added it to soup mid-holiday week and forgot. No matter, since the leeks worked fine, as would any leafy green or brassica.

The only thing I’d recommend not messing with if at all possible is the fresh shiitakes, because they go so satisfyingly crackly at the edges when seared, and add so much meaty savoriness to the dish. Regular button mushrooms would not be quite the same.

Pappardelle with Beluga Lentils, Seared Shiitake Mushrooms and Leftover Champagne
Serves 4

½ cup black (beluga) lentils
5-6 tablespoons olive oil
8 ounces fresh shiitake mushrooms, stems removed, roughly sliced
2 medium leeks, white and pale green parts only, thoroughly cleaned and thinly sliced
1 cup leftover champagne or white wine
Salt and freshly cracked black pepper
8 ounces dried egg pappardelle

Cook the lentils in a small saucepan with sufficient water to generously cover until just tender, around 20 minutes.

While preparing the sauce, set a large pot of water to boil for the pasta, salting it well once it has reached the boil. Add the pasta and cook to al dente according to the package instructions.

In a large, non-nonstick sauté pan, heat 3 tablespoons of the olive oil over medium-high heat until shimmering, then add the shiitakes. Sear the mushrooms until deep golden and crisping around the thin edges, adding a bit more oil if the pan gets too dry. Remove the mushrooms but don’t worry about any brown bits that cling to the pan.

Add the remaining oil to the pan, lower the heat to medium, and add the leeks. Sautee until they begin to brown a bit, then deglaze the pan with the champagne, add a generous amount of salt and pepper, and simmer until the champagne has mostly reduced away. Add the lentils and taste, correcting seasonings as necessary.

Drain the pasta, reserving about a cup of the pasta water. Add the pappardelle to the pan and toss with the lentils, loosening it with the reserved pasta water as necessary. Serve in warmed bowls with a quarter of the seared mushrooms mounded on top.

Notes:

If using fresh pasta instead of dried, you’ll want to double the quantity by weight. Also, if you don’t use leeks, I’d throw in a couple of cloves of minced garlic along with your green vegetable of choice.

It’s important not to use a nonstick pan because you want to be able to use high enough heat to sear the mushrooms properly, and you also want to be able to scrape up all the yummy browned bits when you deglaze with the champagne.

Read Full Post »

Cue Up the Gypsy Kings

There were some optimistic souls who assumed we were due for a mild summer to make up for the horrific winter we had, followed by a spring with a terminal identity crisis, which it tried to resolve by experimenting with 40s and rainy and 80s and humid in 72-hour rotations for the past two months. Said well-meaning souls do not have my hard-earned and deep-seated cynicism, which is why they might have been disappointed when the weather gods decided Memorial Day weekend was as good as any time to go from zero to July, and to hell with June.

Some might say that my reality-based view of the universe makes me less shiny-happy-whatever, but I say there is a certain grim satisfaction to be derived from being right, to say nothing of being better prepared when the inevitable happens. When the 90s-and-humid hit, I already had a pitcher of cold-brewed coffee ready in the fridge, and I was also raring to make my favorite heat-busting celebration of summer, even if it had to be made with supermarket tomatoes because it isn’t actually July and the Jersey tomatoes are still weeks away.

Gazpacho, like flamenco music, is one of those things I fell so hard in love with at first exposure that I have to attribute it to genetic memory. After all, some part of my cross-Mediterranean mix does come from Andalusia, the ancestral home of both. I’m still trying to find the time and discipline to learn guitar, but regularly making gazpacho during the sauna season honors my forebearers with almost no time or effort, and consistently helps me keep my cool.

Gazpacho is infinitely forgiving and you can vary the amounts and ingredients according to what you have and like. For example, this version comes from Jose Andres, my favorite Spanish chef and the source of the best flan ever. His (actually his Andalusian wife’s) recipe uses half a green pepper rather than one whole red one, but I almost never buy green anymore since red is so much sweeter and more versatile, so I used that. Of course, the better tomatoes you use the more deeply flavorful this will be. When the heirlooms hit the farmers markets, go nuts with any variety you can find.

Gazpacho
(Adapted from Jose Andres’ Tapas: A Taste of Spain in America)
Serves 4, if I feel especially self-sacrificing

2 pounds ripe tomatoes (around 5-6 medium ones)
1 large cucumber, peeled
1 small red pepper
1 garlic clove, peeled
3 tablespoons sherry vinegar
1/2 cup cold water
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil, preferably Spanish
2 teaspoons sea salt

Core the tomatoes, chop roughly into eighths, and place in a blender. Roughly chop the cucumber and pepper and add to the carafe on top of the tomatoes. Add the garlic, vinegar and water, and blend until the mixture is uniform and no visible chunks of vegetable remain. Taste and add more vinegar to balance the tomatoes and pepper if they’re especially sweet.

Add the oil and salt and blend again briefly. Don’t blend too long or the gazpacho will start to heat up and you’ll lose the fruitiness of the olive oil. Chill in the carafe until very cold, at least 30 minutes.

Serve in glasses, drizzled with a tiny bit more olive oil and vinegar. If you like, you can also garnish with cherry tomatoes and additional diced cucumber.

Notes:

The recipe calls for straining the gazpacho after the initial blending and before the refrigeration step, but I never bother because unless I’m paying big bucks for it at Jaleo, when perfection is to be expected, I prefer gazpacho to be a little rustic. You can strain if you like, but the extra fiber is good for you, and shouldn’t life have a little texture?

Read Full Post »

We Now Return You to Your Regularly-Scheduled Programming

It’s that time of the year again, in more ways than one. Early fall seems to be my usual time for disappearing and/or reappearing here, since it’s my usual time for starting new things, like degree programs, jobs, household projects, not to mention finally making an honest man out of His Lordship. It’s also the time we get a sizable shipment of dried figs from my father-in-law, which I’ve previously documented.

This cake, which marks my renewal of the Sunday baking and blogging tradition, is apropos of all of that, since it was inspired by a dinner out last weekend to commemorate our anniversary, the start of my new career, and our return to the East Coast.

We resume our narrative at a big-deal local restaurant named after an eating implement, which originally witnessed the very-long-in-coming decision to de-sin our relationship. While the meal was enjoyable and the company was naturally delightful, one of our “small-plate” desserts (a trend about which I have very mixed feelings) was quite the let-down. In principle, it sounded like the perfect not-too-heavy ending: an individual olive oil cake with Marcona almonds, garnished with figs. In practice, the cake was dry, crumbly, and tasted of neither olive oil nor almonds. The only saving grace was that the figs in the accompanying garnish were fresh and very nicely presented.

With the first bite, I knew I could do it better, since I already had a great and easy olive oil cake in my repertoire. I had figs that, while not fresh, were so lovingly grown and processed that they were still brightly green and tender, which reminded me of a old-favorite recipe for figs and apricots reconstituted in a honey-lemon syrup. I didn’t have almonds, but since they had added nothing at all, I quickly dropped that element altogether.

My path clear, I proceeded to do it better the very next day, on the first try, in about an hour and with minimal kitchen messing-up. Unlike the original, this cake is moist and beautifully springy in crumb, and delicately perfumed in ways that really do hint at sun-dappled groves. The glistening green-and orange compote instantly clicked with the cake and added even more Mediterranean flair, not to mention perfect fall color.

Not a bad way to make a comeback, one-upping an award-winning institution. Sometime soon I’m going to try improving on the rather bland butternut risotto I had as an entree, after a faultless appetizer of wild mushrooms en croute and a Calvados sidecar that made me want to rush across the Ben Franklin to stock up on hassle-free apple brandy for future cocktail applications.

Olive Oil Cake with Honeyed Fig-Apricot Compote
(Adapted from Sally Schneider, The Improvisational Cook and The Moosewood Collective, Sundays at Moosewood Restaurant)
Serves 8

For the cake:

3/4 cup each “white” whole wheat flour and all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
Scant 1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt
2 large eggs
Zest of one large lemon
1 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup each milk and yogurt (preferably Greek)
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil

Preheat the oven to 350 F. Butter and flour a 9-inch cake pan, lined with parchment paper.

In a small bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder and salt. In a glass measuring cup, thin the yogurt down with the milk, then whisk in the olive oil until emulsified. (I’ll warn you, it won’t look at all pretty.)

In a large bowl, beat the eggs, lemon zest and sugar by hand until frothy and and the sugar is starting to dissolve. Whisk in the flour mixture until mostly incorporated, then stir in the swampy-green yogurt and oil emulsion.

Scrape the batter into the cake pan and bake about 45 minutes, until the top springs back when gently pressed, or until a skewer inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool the cake for five minutes in the pan, then invert, peel off the parchment, and cool completely on a rack.

For the compote:

3 cups boiling water
1/3 cup honey
2 cups dried figs, sliced into eighths
1 cup dried apricots, quartered
Juice of one lemon (the same one zested for the cake)

While the cake is baking and cooling, mix the honey and water in a medium saucepan. Add the fruit, bring to a boil, and simmer until the fruit is tender and the syrup has reduced and thickened, about 20-25 minutes. Remove from the heat and stir in the lemon juice.

Once the cake has cooled, serve generous slices with the compote on the side.

While it’s best the day it’s baked, the cake will keep well for several days at room temperature, tightly wrapped in plastic. Any leftover compote can be spooned into a small container and schlepped to work the next day with a single serving of even more yogurt, turning your Monday morning into an entirely different experience.

Notes:

A good, but not great, olive oil is what you’re aiming for here. You want one that is fruity and flavorful, but don’t waste your $40-a-bottle, murky-green unfiltered Tuscan early-harvest on an application that will bake out most of its divinity. Save that one for salads, and grab the $5 a bottle California estate stuff from Trader Joe’s instead.

I use the “white” whole wheat flour both to add flavor and to make the cake marginally healthier — although with no butter and all that “good” fat, it’s already about as good-for-you as you can make a cake that’s still absolutely delicious. If you don’t have it on hand, go ahead and use a total of 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour instead.

You can use 1/2 cup of buttermilk instead of the yogurt and milk, although I don’t know about you, but I’m much more likely to have yogurt around during the last-minute, MUST HAVE CAKE NOW occasions when this recipe comes in particularly handy. Likewise, regular plain yogurt is fine instead of the Greek yogurt, but I usually stock the Greek kind, and there’s something particularly appropriate about using it in a cake based on olive oil.

Incidentally, the cake is equally wonderful in the summer with fresh berries or nectarines, preferably macerated with a tiny bit of sugar in orange juice or white wine.

Read Full Post »

Barbecue or Bust

Tofu with Ancho-Guajillo Barbecue Sauce and Provencal Slaw

It being summer, I’ve been nursing a barbecue craving.  Although we’re city-bound and can’t actually barbecue anything, I could do the next best thing: tofu glazed with a spicy, sweet, sticky, chile-filled barbecue sauce.  On the side, I felt like a non-creamy slaw of shredded cabbage and red peppers.

This cookbook-packing thing is really starting to cramp my style, but fortunately I had previously posted my favorite sauce on a forum, so it didn’t matter that the book it came from is already in storage.  Amazingly, I had actually run out of the chipotles the recipe called for before the pantry clearance started.  Out of luck, you say?  Ha! What did I tell you parenthetically earlier about clearing out the entire chile section of Penzeys on my deliberately infrequent trips to the nearest boutique?  I have seven other kinds of whole dried chiles in stock, and we won’t even get into the powders, either individual or blends.  I just mixed anchos, guajillos and sun-dried tomatoes instead.

For the slaw, I drew inspiration from a Greek cabbage salad with olives that my mother makes now and then.  Wandering a little further up the Mediterranean, I dressed the cabbage and peppers with a vinaigrette of olive oil, lemon juice, tapenade, and herbes de Provence.

With no planning at all, this one dish expanded into a full-blown old-fashioned Saturday night barbecue dinner.  We had a little bit of leftover mac & cheese from mid-week and had bought corn at the market this morning, so we had the full complement of sides.  To beat the heat and use up our imperial-sized tea collection, I’ve been making daily batches of iced tea, and today’s beverage selection was an entirely appropriate English Breakfast with honey and key lime.  The only thing missing was peach cobbler or fruit salad, but I had leftovers from last night’s midnight snack, so who’s complaining?

In the pantry-clearing tally, I’m thrilled that the slaw used up the remainder of my bottle of Meyer lemon olive oil and left just enough tapenade for one batch of pasta with cherry tomatoes later this week, when I’ll need an instant dinner option.

Barbecue Tofu with Provencal Slaw
Serves 4-8

Slaw:
1 small or 1/2 large green cabbage, thinly sliced
2 red bell peppers, thinly sliced
3/4 cup lemon-infused olive oil or extra-virgin olive oil
1/4 cup lemon juice
3 tablespoons tapenade or finely diced olives (real ones, not the California canned ones, please)
1 teaspoon herbes de Provence, crushed well in your palm
Salt and pepper to taste

Tofu:
1 12-oz block of firm tofu
Oil for pan-frying
Salt
Barbecue sauce (see below)

Mix the cabbage and peppers in a large bowl until the peppers are evenly distributed.

Combine olive oil, lemon juice, tapenade or olives, herbs, salt and pepper in a smaller bowl and taste, correcting acidity, salt, pepper and herbs as needed.

Toss the cabbage and peppers with half the dressing, adding more if required to coat the vegetables well.  Let marinate for 1 hour before serving.

Drain the tofu from its liquid, and slice crosswise into 8 slices.  Pat each slice thoroughly dry with paper towels.  Heat a few tablespoons of oil in a skillet or frying pan over medium-high heat, and add the tofu slices, salting lightly.  When the tofu is dark golden and crisp on the bottom, flip, salt again, and cook until the other side is equally browned.

Drain the tofu briefly on paper towels, then brush generously on all sides with the barbecue sauce.

Serve 1-2 tofu slices per person, with the slaw on the side.

Notes:

If you do have a barbecue, or a range hood with decent suction (as I do not), the tofu would be all the better for grilling outdoors or on a grill pan first. I wouldn’t brush it with the sauce before grilling, since the high sugar content would cause all manner of ugly sticking and burning.

—-

Ancho-Guajillo Barbecue Sauce
Makes 1 cup

4 sun-dried tomatoes (the actual dry kind, not sun-dried tomatoes packed in oil)
1 guajillo chile, seeded
1 ancho chile, seeded
2 tablespoons brown sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup ketchup
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 teaspoons soy sauce

Using scissors, snip the chiles into strips and place in a heat-safe bowl with the tomatoes.  Cover with boiling water and let sit until rehydrated and soft, 15-30 minutes.

Drain the tomatoes and chiles, reserving the liquid.  With an immersion blender or in a regular blender, blend the tomatoes and chiles with enough soaking liquid to form a thick paste.  Add the remaining ingredients and blend until smooth.

Sauce will keep, well covered, for several weeks in the refrigerator.

Notes:

This amount is much more than you’ll need for one block of tofu, but it keeps really well and is great to have around for basting vegetables, tempeh, seitan, or, if your an omnivore, chicken or pork.  If you don’t think you’ll use it all, the recipe can be cut in half easily.  Conversely, it can be scaled up at will if you’re throwing a block party or familly reunion.

Two relatively mild chiles makes a gently spicy sauce.  If you like your sauce spicier, feel free to add more or hotter chiles, or don’t seed them.  I gave serious consideration to including one or two of the cascabels I also had in my chile bin, and I’ll probably do that next time.

You could use these basic ratios to go in an Asian direction instead, swapping the ketchup for hoisin sauce, the dried Mexican chiles for some Chinese chile paste with garlic (or, if you’re feeling recklessly self-destructive, a couple of rehydrated Tien Tsin peppers or some wasabi), and the olive oil for peanut or sesame.  A little fresh grated ginger would also be nice.

With apologies to whoever the author of the original recipe was, a credit will have to wait until I can dig the cookbook out of storage, which will be at least a year from now.

Read Full Post »

Naked Pizza

After half a lifetime spent piling as much onto a pizza as the laws of physics will permit, I have finally come to the conclusion that the Italians have it right after all, and that the ridiculous excess of American pizza is really an insult to the basic form. Pizza, in order to be any good at all, needs to be as minimalist as possible, so that you can taste the mellow yeastiness of the crust, the peppery fruitiness of the oil, the mineral tang of the salt, and the individual characteristics of the very few and elemental toppings you do choose to add. Tons of cheese only dull your palate, sweet and pasty tomato sauces only make the whole experience insipid, and too many toppings not only clash and drown each other out, but also weigh down and wet the dough so much that you will never get a properly crisp crust.

There are therefore two secrets to really spectacular and satisfying pizza: Keep It Simple, Stupid, and do not even bother if you’re not going to use a baking stone. I know it seems like the height of yuppified self-indulgence to buy a baking stone, but you absolutely need the porous ceramic texture to wick away the extra moisture and sear the crust to a crackly, caramelized golden-brown. A mediocre batch of dough can be saved by baking on a ripping-hot stone, but even the most perfectly kneaded and risen dough will become a spongy, disappointing mess if you bake it on a regular cookie sheet. There’s no point in going to all the trouble (and potential heartache) of working with yeast if you’re going to handicap yourself from the start, so you really owe it to yourself to spring the $20 at Williams Sonoma or Bloodbath and Beyond, or even the $3 at Home Despot for unglazed quarry tiles instead (Thanks, Alton Brown!) .

As you can see above, dinner tonight featured my absolute favorite pizza: a white pizza with nothing but olive oil, salt, and thinly sliced onions and garlic. The oil keeps the dough moist and rich, and the onions and garlic turn sweet and wonderful in the high heat, needing only a sprinkle of salt to round everything out. While I do make the dough from scratch on occasion (and, in a particularly industrious phase, even kept a sourdough starter going for months at a time, from which I made weekly batches of baguettes or focaccia), lately I’ve had neither the time nor the energy to make my own, so I procure the dough from the neighborhood pizzerias or from the refrigerator case at Trader Joe’s. If you have the time and inclination, I highly recommend Alton’s recipe, which, if not fast, is practically foolproof and incredibly flavorful.

Pizza Bianca with Red Onion and Garlic
Makes 2 oblong pizzas, approximately 12 inches by 6 inches

1/2 lb pizza dough, purchased from your friendly neighborhood pizzeria
1 large red onion, thinly sliced
6 cloves garlic, thinly slices
1/4 cup good olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste

Equipment:
A baking stone or unglazed quarry tiles
A pizza peel or cookie sheet (turned upside-down if it has a rim), for transferring the pizzas to and from the oven
Coarsely ground cornmeal for dusting the peel or cookie sheet

Move the oven rack to lower third of the oven and position the baking stone on the rack. Preheat the oven at 550 F for at least 20 minutes, to allow the stone to get really hot.

Meanwhile, mix the topping ingredients in a bowl and allow to marinate. Divide the dough into two equal portions and shape into balls, cover with plastic wrap, and allow to rest until the oven is ready.

When the oven and the stone are blistering hot, sprinkle the peel or upside-down cookie sheet generously with the cornmeal, to prevent the dough from sticking when you transfer it to the oven. Stretch out the first ball of dough into a long, thin rectangle, approximately a foot long and six inches wide, by pressing, pinching, and even letting it hang down from your fingertips to let gravity do the work. (If the dough immediately shrinks back, cover with plastic again and let it relax for several minutes before trying again.) The thinner you get it at this point, the crispier the end product will be, but don’t worry about the precise thickness. If the dough tears, just pinch it back together.

When the dough is thin enough for your liking, lay it onto the cornmeal-dusted peel or sheet, and spread with half the topping mixture, making sure to leave a lip of at least half an inch all around to prevent the toppings from sliding off during the transfer. Gently shake the peel or sheet to be sure the pizza isn’t sticking, and then slide the pizzas off the peel/sheet onto the heated stone in the oven with a few quick jerks.

Bake for 10 minutes, or until the dough is a dark golden brown and the onions and garlic are beginning to caramelize, then remove to a cooling rack for a few minutes before eating.

Repeat with the remaining half of the dough and topping mixture.

Notes: If you must have cheese, I’d suggest doing what we did with this batch: Add paper-thin slivers or a fine grating of cheese at the absolute last minute, after the pizza is already out of the oven. (We used Manchego, which was lovely.) If you want the cheese to brown, don’t put it on the pizzas before they go in the oven; add it in the last few minutes of baking, once the dough has already set and is starting to turn golden. This will ensure that the crust stays crisp and the cheese doesn’t burn or turn oily.

Read Full Post »

Another Legitimate Thirty-Minute Meal: Roasted Asparagus Salad

In my ongoing valiant quest to present legitimately quick, easy, delicious and nutritious meals, here is what His Lordship and I had for dinner last night, courtesy of our Saturday trip to the farmer’s market, where the signs of spring are truly undeniable, as evidenced by the asparagus, radishes, baby greens, scallions, rhubarb, early tomatoes and fresh herbs we picked up. I also stopped by my favorite cheesemonger and picked up some of the lovely and sharp Canadian cheddar he recommended a while ago during a side-by-side tasting with several imports from the UK, during which the Canadian stuff beautifully held its own while costing half the price.

By the time we’d gotten the goods home, we’d already decided to roast the asparagus, and I decided to combine it with the salad we’d also planned to have instead of serving it on the side. Because radishes can be peppery and a little bitter, His Lordship suggested a sweeter dressing, so I threw together a basic honey-mustard vinaigrette, which worked very well with all the components. The cheese shavings on top were not only decorative but gave a nice sharp-but-smooth contrast to the sweetness of the asparagus and the dressing and the crispness of the radishes, to say nothing of adding some extra protein.

This is a really delicious, satisfying, and pretty salad which would make a very nice first course as well as a light main course.

Roasted Asparagus, Radish and Canadian Cheddar Salad
Serves 4 as first course, or 2 as main course

2 bunches asparagus
Olive oil
Salt and pepper

2 tablespoons dijon or other smooth European-style mustard
2 tablespoons clover or other light-flavored honey
Salt and pepper
1/3-1/2 cup fruity extra-virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons-1/4 cup sherry vinegar
2 large scallions, white parts only, or 1 shallot, minced

4-6 cups mixed baby greens, washed and thoroughly dried
1 small bunch radishes, finely sliced
The reserved green tops of the scallions, sliced
2 oz Canadian or other sharp, aged dry cheddar, finely shaved

Preheat oven to 425 F. Clean asparagus and use a vegetable peeler to peel away the tough and woody outer layer on the end of each stalk, or bend each stalk gently until the tough lower portion snaps off, saving those parts for soup. Toss the spears with the olive oil, salt and pepper, and lay in a single layer in oven-proof dish. Roast the asparagus uncovered for 15-20 minutes, or until easily pierced with a sharp knife, but not so long that it loses its bright green color and becomes mushy. Once the asparagus is cooked, remove from the oven and cut each stalk into two or three smaller segments.

While the asparagus is roasting, combine the mustard, honey, salt and pepper in a bowl, stirring with a small whisk or a fork until thoroughly combined. Slowly add the olive oil in a thin stream, stirring briskly to emulsify. Once the oil has been incorporated, add the minced scallion and drizzle in the vinegar.

In a large bowl, toss the greens, radishes, scallion tops and asparagus with salt and pepper, then add half the vinaigrette and toss, tasting to see if it’s sufficiently dressed. If not, add the remaining vinaigrette to taste and toss again. Divide the salad between plates, and sprinkle over the cheddar shavings before serving.

Notes: Parmesan, gruyere, or another sharp and dry cheese should work equally well here. If you’re not a vegetarian, poached or roasted chicken or duck, or perhaps even pork, would be a good addition to round out the salad into a complete meal.

Read Full Post »

Another Legitimate Thirty Minute Meal: Southwestern Lentil Salad

Since I’m trying to get back into the swing of cooking, despite still not having as much time for it as I’d like, tonight’s experimental dinner was particularly gratifying. When I got home, all I had decided was that I wanted to do something with lentils, but by the time I was finished adding components, I had a dinner that was easy, quick, nutritious, and most importantly, really delicious. The richness of the lentils and the avocado, the crunch of the cucumber and green onion, the sweetness of the tomatoes, the tang of the lemon, and the sharpness of the spices and cilantro all combined beautifully into a simple but flavorful southwest-ish whole. In addition to making a very satisfactory dinner, I think this will be a great addition to the summer barbecue season.

Southwestern Lentil Salad
Serves 4 as a main dish, and at least six as a side dish

1 cup black lentils
2 garlic cloves
1/2 an English cucumber, diced
1 pint cherry tomatoes, quartered
3 scallions, sliced
1/4 cup olive oil
Juice of one large lemon
Salt and pepper
1/4 teaspoon paprika
1/2 teaspoon cumin
1/2 cup cilantro, chopped
1 avocado, diced

Place the lentils and garlic in a small saucepan, and cover generously with water. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat and simmer vigorously until the lentils are tender, but not mushy.

In the meantime, combine the cucumber, tomatoes, scallions, oil, lemon juice, paprika, cumin, and salt and pepper in a large bowl, and leave to marinate until the lentils are cooked. Once the lentils are ready, drain thoroughly and add to the bowl, tossing to combine. Taste and correct the seasonings as necessary, then add the diced avocado, stirring gently to avoid mashing it.

Notes: You could use any kind of lentil here, but I favor the black or green varieties over ordinary brown lentils when I’m making salads, because they keep their shape much better. If you would like to make it ahead, it should keep very well in the refrigerator for quite some time, but I would not add the avocado until the last minute, since it begins to brown very quickly after being cut open.

Read Full Post »

I’ll Give You a Thirty-Minute Meal

This is what a genuine thirty-minute meal looks like.

Dinner at the Disdain manse this evening was a colorful, healthy, economical, and realistic dish of whole wheat pasta with chard and toasted pine nuts, prepared in twenty-nine minutes and change. It did not involve any wacky uses of convenience foods, nominal dressing-up of prepared items, juggling a dozen products between the cupboard and the stove, or bacterial cross-contamination. With the exception of the chard, which I bought at the farmer’s market over the weekend, all of the ingredients are cupboard staples, and since it’s just me and the Lord (I mean Mr. Disdain, not Jehovah), there is enough left over for us to have tomorrow’s lunch taken care of as well. And I only have one pasta pot, one wide saute pan, a pair of tongs, a ladle, a cutting board, and a chef’s knife to clean up.

Whole Wheat Spaghetti with Rainbow Chard and Pine Nuts
(Serves 4)

8 oz whole wheat spaghetti or other pasta

1 bunch rainbow chard (regular or Swiss chard work fine)
3 cloves garlic
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
2 Tablespoons olive oil
2 Tablespoons balsamic vinegar
1/4 cup pine nuts, toasted
Kosher salt to taste

Start a large pot of water boiling for the pasta. Once the water boils, salt generously and add the pasta.

Meanwhile, chop the stems of the chard thinly, and slice the leafy part into ribbons. Mince the garlic.

In a wide saute pan, heat the olive oil over medium heat and add the chard stems, garlic, pepper flakes, and two good pinches of salt. Saute until the stems begin to turn tender, then add the shredded greens, in two batches. Continue to saute until the greens begin to wilt, then add the balsamic vinegar and a large ladleful of the water from the pasta pot. Stir occasionally until the greens are tender, adding more pasta water as necessary. Once the pasta is cooked, remove it from the pot with tongs and drop it into the saute pan, stirring over the heat until all the liquid has evaporated.

Add the pine nuts, toss again to combine, and serve.

Notes: The balsamic vinegar may sound like a weird addition, but greens really like a bit of acidity, and it’s perfectly traditional in Italian cooking to go for the agrodolce (sweet and sour) effect that way. I frequently emphasize the effect by adding some golden raisins, briefly soaked in hot water while I’m preparing the other ingredients to soften them a bit.

Read Full Post »

The Zen of Aglio Olio

Perhaps it’s my Italian blood, or perhaps it’s just the carbs, but there’s something wonderfully calming about the ritual of preparing and eating a plate of spaghetti aglio olio (spaghetti with garlic and olive oil). It’s so easy to prepare that it’s my standard mid-week I-can’t-deal-with-cooking dinner of choice, but I still never get sick of the silky, smoky tangle of noodles, although I do add variety by throwing in halved cherry tomatoes one night, a handful of chopped basil another night, a sprinkle of incendiary red pepper flakes yet another night, or a generous scattering of crackly golden pan-fried bread crumbs still another.

The only two tricks I’ve discovered to preparing it properly are 1) you must not, under any circumstances, burn the garlic, and 2) you must slightly undercook the noodles and finish them off in the pan you warmed the oil and garlic in. I learned the secret of both from Lidia Bastianich, one of the least irritating of the celebrity chefs, and so like my grandmother that I feel completely comfortable whenever I watch her. Lidia’s method is to warm several thinly sliced cloves of garlic and several tablespoons of good (but not necessarily extra virgin) olive oil in a large, shallow pan on low heat while the pasta is boiling on another burner. When the garlic starts to barely turn golden, drop several large ladlefuls of the pasta water into the pan, which will stop the garlic from getting any darker and also provide just enough liquid to finish cooking the pasta and serve as a vector to carry the garlic flavor into the pasta, instead of just leaving an oily film on the outer surface. When the pasta is almost al dente, scoop it out of its pot (I use tongs) and deposit it into the pan, turning up the heat a bit and stirring it gently until all the liquid is absorbed.

This entire procedure takes less than twenty minutes, and can be done on autopilot after the worst possible day, but I try to concentrate on the flow of it all the same, turning it into a meditation that nourishes the soul as well as the body.

Read Full Post »