I Fagioli

Rhubarb - I'm in a Jam

2008-05-19T17:04:00.017-05:00

On record for Thursday, May 15, 2008: The day dawned cold, and cold it stayed. The cold was followed by and was preceded with wind. The wind chilled the coldness to a bite I felt on my exposed ears. And I examined rhubarb, and green garlic, and purple-tipped asparagus with the cold resting its freckled hands on my ears as it tried to keep me from listening to vendors’ explanations on various spring produce. Green garlic – use it up to the tips; rhubarb – red and green parts can be used, discard the “prongs.”

Discard the prongs is exactly what I did as I chopped the three precious stalks I purchased. By golly, at $3 a bunch, and only 3 stalks to a bunch, I’m going to use every bit of the rhubarb that is edible. I found a recipe for Rhubarb Cobbler that calls for boiling the chopped rhubarb in sugar syrup thickened with corn starch. Simple enough – I knew that rhubarb is excruciatingly tart without the help of sugar, so infuse as much sugar into the pieces as possible, right? Well, yes and no. When I added the rhubarb to the sugar syrup and simmered it for the 10 minutes the recipe suggested, the result was more of a jam rather than softened pieces of rhubarb.

Naturally, as I prepared my sweet biscuit topping, I fretted about the texture of the overall dessert. Beyond mushy fruit, would a biscuit-topped jam even pass as dessert in the eyes of my sweet-toothed-gourmet husband?

As for me, the cinnamon-spiked tartness of the rhubarb made me reminisce about the taste of my sister’s homemade Dutch Apple Pie, worthy of a blue ribbon in any county fair. The layers of apples, tender yet still with a slight bite and whiffs of spices and savory butter, what a pie. “I used Butter Flavored Crisco,” Aimee confessed. I did not care, nor do I care now; apples are fall's favorite fruit. What I care about is creating a springtime pie with the same spices, texture, and memory; my first stab at springtime's quintessential dessert.

Oh my goodness, so I didn’t quite achieve the slightly crisp tender texture I so badly craved, but the tartness lending to spiciness was spot-on. A sweet biscuit soaking up the juices, a dollop of sour cream (that’s American for crème fraîche), and a cup of coffee rounded out my surprise hit – Rhubarb Jam Cobbler. Shane even said I could use less biscuit topping to allow the rhubarb to shine.

Perhaps next time I will try a different method, one that leaves the rhubarb pieces whole for a full-textured experience. However, I can guarantee I have one country boy at home who does not mind finishing leftovers of last night’s attempt.

My attempt to recreate a tart, apple-esque cobbler using farmer's market rhubarb; I instead present Rhubarb Jam Cobbler:

Serves Eight (I halved this recipe and made four servings)

Adapted from Williams-Sonoma Essentials of Baking

Rhubarb Cobbler Filling:

1 cup water
1 cup sugar
2 tablespoons cornstarch
4 cups (about 6-8 stalks, depending on size) rhubarb, chopped
2 teaspoons cinnamon, or to taste

Bring the first 3 ingredients to a boil over medium heat, stirring until thick and clear, and add the rhubarb and cinnamon. Cook, stirring frequently, about 10 minutes. Pour into a 9" pie dish, or 8 individual baking dishes. Set aside while assembling topping.

Sweet Biscuit Topping:

Scant 2/3 cup 2 % or whole milk
1 tablespoon sour cream
1 vanilla bean, scraped
1 1/2 cups all purpose flour
1/3 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

In a tightly closed jar, vigorously shake the milk and sour cream and set aside. Over a medium bowl, sift together all dry ingredients, including the sugar. Add the scraped vanilla bean and butter pieces. Using your fingers or a pastry cutter, cut in butter until small crumbs form. Add the milk mixture slowly, and gently stir with a fork until a soft dough forms and all crumbs are evenly but just moistened. Do not over-handle the dough or the biscuits will be tough.

Using an ice cream scoop, drop the dough onto the surface of the fruit. It will spread as it bakes. Bake for 30-35 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the biscuit dough comes out clean. Cook on a rack for at least 15 minutes. Serve with sour cream or crème fraîche.

Table for One

2008-05-16T20:44:00.053-05:00

What does a temporarily single gal need on a night to herself?

A drink involving rum, sugar, mint, and lime:

Rum-Whatever "Mojito"
2 tsp. confectioners' sugar
Juice of 1 1/2 limes, or to taste
4 fresh mint leaves, chopped
2 ounces rum (white rum is traditional, gold is all I had)
Seltzer or sparkling water
Angostura bitters (optional)

In a tall glass, mix sugar with lime juice. Add mint leaves and with a fork or the back of a spoon, crush against the glass to release their juices. Add rum, stir, and top with a little sparkling or seltzer water. Add a dash of Angostura bitters if desired.

A flashlight to find the breaker box when fuse is blown while heating tortillas in microwave;

Food.

Late spring green garlic was kissed by cayenne and humbled by touches of cumin. Scallops, patted dry and lightly seasoned with salt, were tossed into the mixture and perfectly seared a golden brown, two minutes on each side.

Four white corn tortillas were heated, upon which I piled arugula, the seared scallops and green garlic, finely sliced radishes, shredded cilantro, sliced roasted red peppers, and sliced avocados. Besides a good wash-down of a makeshift Mojito, a little salt was the only extra seasoning these over-stuffed tacos needed.

Lime Butter Cookies (Sablés au Citron Vert)

Adapted from Pâtisserie Lerch From Paris Sweets: Great Desserts from the City's Best Pastry Shops by Dorie Greenspan (Emilie's note: the original recipe called for lemon; I used lime)

2 sticks unsalted butter, at room temperature (use the highest grade of the best brand you can find)
2/3 cup confectioners' sugar, sifted
1 large egg yolk, at room temperature
Pinch of salt
1 vanilla bean, scraped (spend the cash, it's worth it!)
Grated zest of 1 to 1 1/2 limes (more is better)
2 cups all-purpose flour

In a large mixer bowl, beat butter at medium speed until it is smooth. Add the sifted confectioners' sugar and beat again until the mixture is pale yellow and smooth. Beat in the egg yolk, followed by the salt, vanilla scrapings, and grated lime zest. Reduce the mixer speed to low and add the flour, beating just until it disappears. Mixture will appear crumbly, much like the "course cornmeal" stage of a pie crust. That's okay. Stop beating at this point, and just work the remainder of the flour in with a rubber spatula. Turn the dough out onto a counter, gather it into a ball, and divide it in half. You will probably need to use a touch of force to get the dough to stick -- just don't overdo it. Wrap each piece of dough in plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes. It'll be easier to work with once it's cold.

Working on a smooth surface, form each piece of dough into a log that is about 1 to 1 1/4 inches thick. Wrap the logs in plastic and chill for at least 2 hours. Don't short yourself the 2 hours, as the dough is much easier to handle and cut when it's cold. From here, the dough can be wrapped airtight and kept refrigerated for up to 3 days or stored in the freezer for up to 1 month.

Position the racks to divide the oven into thirds and preheat the oven to 350°F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.

Slice each log into 1/4 inch cookies. Bake the cookies for 12 to 14 minutes, or until they are set but not browned. Transfer the cookies to cooling racks to cool to room temperature. Confession, I did not let my cookies cool to room temperature before I sucked in their fragile and buttery crumbs. Oh bliss when the sablés hit my tongue and melted into a hot, buttery, lime-scented sea.

Fight-Back Friday Frijoles!

2008-05-16T08:03:00.029-05:00

I am faced with the same dilemma almost every Thursday evening -- What am I going to pack in my lunch tomorrow? The roast beef I bought for sandwiches only stretches four days - two slices per sandwich per day, except for the Thursday when I discovered I three slices of roast beef left in the package. Woohoo, bonus slice!

I ate the bonus slice on Thursday's sandwich - it was shamelessly delicious - which left the still nagging thought of what to pack for Friday's lunch. As the only meals we ate at home this week were pizza and salad on Sunday evening, and leftover pizza and fresh salad on Wednesday evening, leftovers in my brown bag were just not possible. Running down to my favorite sandwich shop for a bite only to stand in a line runs out the door and down the sidewalk seemed daunting. A meal from home seemed more cozy and relaxing, something that fit into my lazy schedule. Walk to the break room and heat up a meal or walk to get a sandwich, stand in line for 20 minutes, pay $7, and rush back to work?

For greater of two months, the urge to cook has been the apparition that can't settle into an afterlife. When the urge to settle strikes, I strike back. Admittedly, what I put together for my lunch was more of a flirtatious slap than an out-and-out brawl. But I had to whip up a meal for my lunch out of pure shame -- I was supposed to make the very meal for supper. Somehow, between walking to the train and walking through the doors of the restaurant, there was a change in plans. I am almost positive strong brainwashing tactics were involved, tactics that caused my mind to detour from thoughts of homemade black beans and rice to thoughts of beef, cilantro, soft corn tortillas, and cactus salad. Shane was a happy accomplice.

And when we arrived home, hours later, full of beef, cilantro, soft corn tortillas, cactus salad, and the beer we bought on the way to supper, I had to look my thawed bag of black beans square in the eye and dare them to whip themselves into something scrumptious. And what darling little beans they were to soak up the fresh onion and garlic, dashes of cayenne pepper and cumin, roasted red peppers, thyme sprigs, and the few splashes of red wine vinegar, just for balance, and today as I ate their almost forgotten velvety texture over brown Basmati rice, garnished with fresh cilantro and squeezes of lime, I was grateful I made the time to reacquaint myself with old friends packed in the freezer and amongst the various clutter of sugars and spices. Shane dunked his store-bought cookies into milk lightly flavored with chocolate syrup, yet he still seemed jealous when he smelled what was cooking at 8:00 last night. "You can't possibly eat all that for lunch tomorrow," Shane observed.

"Perhaps I'll share the rest," I answered.

Perhaps, but Monday dawns so brightly, so quickly.

Friday Frijoles

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 small onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, green germ removed, chopped
dash of cayenne pepper
2 tsp. cumin
3 cups cooked black beans, un-drained
1 large roasted red pepper, chopped
2 or 3 tablespoons red wine vinegar
Couple sprigs of fresh thyme
1 bay leaf
Chopped fresh cilantro and lime wedges to serve

Heat olive oil over medium heat. Soften onion in olive oil for 5 minutes. Add garlic, cayenne pepper, and cumin. From here, don't stand over the pot and inhale. After a minute or two of constant stirring so the garlic doesn't burn, add the beans, bell pepper, two tablespoons of the vinegar, thyme and bay leaf. Bring to a boil, and simmer for 15 minutes. Stir frequently as the beans will stick to the bottom of the pot if neglected (and I know this because I sometimes do neglect my beans). Remove from heat, discard bay leaf and thyme sprigs, adjust seasonings, add more vinegar if the taste buds scream for it. Serve over cooked rice, and garnish with fresh cilantro, lime wedges, and a few glasses of Modelo Especial.

Leftovers make a great Saturday breakfast -- just heat and add sliced avocados Modelo optional.)

Late Spring's Desire; Summer's Hope Blooms Eternally

2008-05-13T16:43:00.015-05:00

There’s an angst growing everyday as I await every eggplant variety, the hideously ugly heirloom tomato, and anise-scented basil leaves large enough to serve as lettuce on my BLT, ahem, BBT. If every herb standing at attention makes it into my basket (and believe me, they will), the excess goes into clean jars, and topped with olive oil, they’re preserved in my refrigerator for a taste of summer herbs when the thermometer again dips into the 50s, 40s, and 30s. It’s time for farmer’s market season.

While the trees are still struggling to bloom, it’s the love of tomatoes that causes me to lament – the memory of their sweet flesh and juicy finish taunt me as I prowl the grocery store and stumble upon their December counterfeit. It’s not soon enough, my mind reminds me daily, and just when I think I’m losing hope, tomatoes will spill from countertops onto windowsills, decorate the dining room table, only to eventually snake into the living area where a bowl of Green Zebras and Brandywines sit atop my antique coffee table not collecting dust, but instead attracting eyes and mouths and olfactory nerves until I audaciously seize them and roast them.

Roasting tomatoes is the ultimate triumph of my summer, and in the off-months, my favorite canned, whole Roma tomatoes will suffice; they will have to suffice. There have been a number of times I’ve almost succumbed to the December tomato; my eyes and mouth water for summer. However, I have had success in roasting canned whole tomatoes. The texture is not spot-on to fresh, but the flavor is fresh, succulent, and beats any cardboard tomato I eyeball in the supermarket. A long, low temperature roasting not only brings out the balance between tomato’s natural sweetness and acidity, it also breaks down the flesh to create an easy sauce made even more pungent with roasted garlic, olive oil, a pinch of sugar, salt, and pepper.

And turn a can of plain, whole tomatoes into a thick, garlicky sauce is exactly what I did to put a little oomph into a Spanish tortilla and ease my angst until I can pick out my own beauties from summer stalls.

Spanish Tortilla

Serves 4

4 or 5 small red-skinned potatoes, whole, boiled
8 large eggs
A few generous dashes of salt
Pinch of cayenne or crushed red pepper
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 medium onion, chopped

Position rack in center of oven and preheat to 350°F.

Slice potatoes into rounds. Set aside.

Whisk eggs, salt, and red pepper in large bowl until well blended. Mix in potatoes. Heat 1 tablespoon oil in large ovenproof skillet over high heat. Add onion; sauté until golden, about 5 minutes. Reduce heat to medium and carefully add the additional tablespoon of olive oil. Add egg mixture; cook 3 minutes, occasionally stirring egg from sides of skillet. Place skillet in oven and bake eggs until set in center and no longer wet on top, about 20 minutes.

Remove tortilla from oven. Immediately place skillet on cold wet kitchen towel to prevent further cooking. Let stand 2 minutes. Run spatula around edge of skillet and under tortilla. Lift skillet and tilt, sliding tortilla onto platter. Cut into wedges and serve with Garlicky Tomato Sauce and a nice, crisp salad (salad suggestion follows).

Not Quite Summertime Garlicky Tomato Sauce

1 28 oz can whole tomatoes, juices drained
Pinch of sugar
Salt and freshly ground pepper
2 heads garlic
Good pour of olive oil
5 or 6 stems of fresh thyme

Heat oven to 300 degrees.

In a casserole dish or ovenproof pot, arrange the tomatoes on the bottom being careful not to overlap or crowd the tomatoes. You want them to get a bit of a caramelized texture and taste. Use more than one dish if necessary. Overcrowding with steam rather than caramelize the tomatoes. Sprinkle a bit of sugar over the tomatoes and finish with salt and freshly ground pepper. Slice the top off each head of garlic and tuck each head into the tomatoes. Pour a good amount of olive oil (1/4 cup should do it), and tuck in the fresh thyme stems. Roast for 3 to 4 hours, or until tomatoes and garlic are browning nicely, and garlic is soft and sweet. Remove from oven and discard the thyme. Let the dish cool for a bit, and then squeeze the soft cloves from the garlic skins. Discard skins, and mash garlic and tomatoes together to form a thick sauce. Adjust seasonings if necessary.

Feta and Lime Tossed Salad

Serves 2 medium-sized salads; double for 4 people

1 small head romaine lettuce, chopped
3-4 ounces Feta cheese (sheep or goat preferable)
4 scallions, white and some green part chopped
1/2 medium lime
1 tablespoon olive oil
salt and freshely pepper to taste

Combine lettuce, cheese, and scallions in a medium bowl. Squeeze lime over greens, drizzle olive oil over, season with salt and pepper, and toss salad until the dressing is incorporated into the greens.

Gnocchi Redeemed

2008-05-12T16:00:00.012-05:00

After I wrote about my humble attempt at gnocchi, I can proudly proclaim that I have redeemed these sweet little packages of potato and punchy garlic. How many times have I tried to make things worlds more complicated than necessary? If the hair wants to part on the left, let it part on the left. If your significant other is grouchy, leave them be. If the gnocchi tastes heavenly on its own, run with it – which is exactly what I did on a weekday evening.

In anticipation of picking up my new bike from a bike shop that closed at 8:00 p.m., I knew a fast one was in order. Knowing I had some frozen gnocchi from my original batch, it was time to test how satisfied I could feel after a lightly seasoned plate of gnocchi and green salad. Playing off the flavors of garlic and sweet potato, I quickly made a brown butter sauce with two tablespoons of unsalted butter, two chopped shallots and some fresh thyme (shallots and thyme are my routine -- hello delicious routine).

As the shallots softened and the butter browned, I brought a large pot of water to boil, and, straight from the freezer, dumped in the remainder of the gnocchi. For an additional twist to my original gnocchi dish, after I boiled the gnocchi, I threw them into the skillet with the brown butter, shallots, and thyme. I browned each little potato pillow until they absorbed most of the taste and glistened with butter. Now this, this, is how my redeemed gnocchi came to be.

My bike, well, it’s still sitting at the bike shop waiting for its timid owner to claim it. Unfortunately as Shane and I were tucking into our evening vittles, predicted rain came true – in downpours. Emilie vs. Bike? Well, I have tackled gnocchi, and now I’m ready for another challenge.

Sunday’s Cadence, Wednesday’s Song

2008-05-12T15:24:00.008-05:00

I love a cozy Sunday supper, even when the weather is (supposedly) turning warmer. I really love a hearty salad, even when the weather is (supposedly) staying cooler. Salads are a wonderful way to use leftovers that cannot quite stretch for a full-blown meal. Just yesterday evening I whipped up a colorful plate of greens to eat with a pizza dressed with pesky leftover butternut squash that had been sitting in my freezer for almost 2 months.

Peppery baby arugula teamed with a diced Pink Lady apple (one-quarter hungrily devoured by yours truly), two tablespoons of toasted walnuts, and half of a leftover pork chop, sliced. Sweet and tangy maple dressing brought out the grassy undertones of the arugula, and is there any kind of pork that does not work well with a good douse of both apple and maple flavors? Thick slices of butternut squash, caramelized onions, and goat brie pizza flecked with fresh thyme accompanied the light salad, and I can now relax knowing I’ve successfully cleaned from my fridge and freezer lingering leftovers.

However, at times I purposefully make more than enough meat, vegetable, etc. at one meal just so I can whip up a “leftover” salad later in the week. In this respect, chicken is a salad chameleon. Not only is it standard for walnuts/pecan, raisins/grapes/apples/, green onion/red onion, curry/traditional, mayonnaise-based chicken salad. Chicken also stars in club salads, Cobb salads, and, in its processed counterpart, chef salads.

Starting with a base of baked chicken, boiled potatoes still in their skins, and romaine lettuce, I let my refrigerator’s contents strut their stuff in this part chef, part chopped, all tasty salad. Here are the ingredients that made the final cut:

3 boiled red-skinned potatoes, whole, in their skins
1 six to eight ounce cooked chicken breast or thigh, chopped
2 hard boiled eggs, sliced
5 radishes, finely chopped
2 stalks celery, chopped (good for optional crunch, however, I’m not allowed to use celery in Shane’s salad)
2 small shallots, thinly sliced
¼ cup crumbled Gorgonzola
¼ cup shaved Parmigiano-Reggiano
1 ½ bunches romaine lettuce, finely chopped

Dressing (from Gourmet February 2008):

3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil1 1/2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice1 teaspoon mild honey (*I used 2 teaspoons)1 teaspoon Dijon mustard

Preheat oven to 425 degrees.

Cut potatoes into 1 ½ inch cubes and roast in 425 degree oven until browned, about 15 to 20 minutes. Remove from oven and let cool slightly.

Mix dressing ingredients, and add salt and pepper to taste. Once potatoes have cooled a bit, mix the remainder of the salad ingredients together and dress with 2 to 3 tablespoons of honey mustard dressing. Serve immediately.

Okay, Okay, the New and Improved Pork Chop Dish

2008-05-12T12:17:00.009-05:00

In continuation of the May 11, 2008 post, after the appetizer, and before the dessert I have yet to enticingly describe, I served pork chops in port wine cream sauce over whole wheat penne:

Pork Chops in Port Wine Cream Sauce over Whole Wheat Penne

Serves 4, especially after potato chips and brie

For the Pork Chops:
3 8oz boneless pork chops, each chop roughly 1 inch thick
Generous grinding of coarsely cracked pepper
salt
olive oil (optional)

For the sauce:
2 tablespoons butter
4 shallots, chopped
Handful fresh thyme, chopped
1 cup port, tawny or ruby
1 1/3 cups cream
salt to taste

1 lb penne, or any tubular pasta, whole wheat or not

Start a large pot of salted water to boil.

Crack pepper onto a large plate or platter and sprinkle over with salt. Press both pork chops into the salt and pepper on the plate and generously sprinkle more salt and pepper over the tops of the chops and press into the chops. Heat a large, heavy skillet (I used cast iron) on a fairly high heat. If necessary, brush the skillet with olive oil before. If it's a well seasoned pan, this may not be necessary. In batches, sear the pork chops: one minute on each side and then lower the heat, cover skillet, and cook pork chops 4 minutes each side. Remove pork chops from the pan onto a plate, cover with foil, and let rest for 5 minutes. The Pork chops will continue cooking until they are pink in the middle.

As the remaining pork chop cooks, add the pasta to the boiling water. Cook until al dente.

While the pasta is cooking, to the already warm skillet, add the butter. When the butter stops foaming, add the shallots and thyme and sauté for 5 minutes. Carefully pour the port into the skillet, increase heat, and bring to a boil. Simmer for 1 minute scraping the bottom of the skillet to release the bits of meat clinging to the bottom. Add cream and any meat juices that accumulate on the plate to the skillet, bring to a simmer, and simmer for 2-3 minutes or until thickened. Salt to taste.

Slice pork into strips. Drain pasta, toss with the cream sauce, and top with slices of the pork chops.

Can It Brie So Simple?

2008-05-11T10:20:00.017-05:00

It can brie Goat brie!

Shane and I entertained our first couple for supper yesterday evening. Wanting to serve our main course hot (or at the very least, fresh), I waited until our guests arrived before searing three plump and tender pork chops to serve in my Shane-requested port wine cream sauce. However, our newly arrived and ravenous guests would not go hungry, and chips and dip a la Emilie were quickly devoured.

I wanted an impressive, yet fuss-free appetizer to fend off impatient hungries. Goat brie, conveniently packaged in an edible crust and gently heated, lends its tangy, creamy qualities to an instant dip. On its own, the cheese's flavor works well with apples and plain water crackers or slices of baguette, spread with butter and lightly toasted. As acceptable as these alternative appealed to me, I wanted to try an appetizer I'd been concocting in my head -- a dinner party-worthy cheese dip, sans any shelf-stable jar or box of cheese product. Fresh herbs, a few chopped scallions, and freshly ground pepper are all the components for an appetizer casual and elegant -- enough to complement burgers and beer on the lawn or pork chops around the dining room table.

So Simple Thyme and Brie Dip

Serves 4 guests, hungry and awaiting the supper that sizzling on the stove.

1 round brie, goat or cow (about 4.5 - 5 ounces)
Handful chopped fresh thyme
4 scallions, chopped, including some green from the tops
Freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Carefully slice the top off the brie. Discard it, or save it for later (or just eat it when no one is looking). Place cheese in an oven save dish (and for ease of removing dish from the oven, place dish on a baking sheet), and bake it for 10-15 minutes, until cheese is soft and runny.

Remove dish from the oven, and add the thyme, chopped scallions, reserving a few green pieces for garnish) and freshly ground pepper to the cheese and mix into the brie, being careful not to break through the crust. Place dish back into the oven for 10 minutes. Remove dish from oven 5 minutes before serving, and over the top of the cheese, scatter the remaining scallion greens. Serve with gourmet potato chips.

Easy-Peasy or Asparagus "Risotto"

2008-04-28T16:05:00.014-05:00

I like sticky rice. I always look forward to the bowl-shaped mound of sticky rice that accompanies my Thai curry basil. When I make red beans and rice, I purposely overcook the Basmati rice a touch just so the grains stick together for a pleasantly gluey feel in my mouth.

Creamy, small grains of rice that are melded together with the help of cheese, wine, and chicken broth, naturally, I’m a huge fan of risotto, when someone else makes it. Hey, I love making complex dishes, I love standing in front of my stove creating and cackling, but for all the love of my labor, I cannot make a satisfying risotto when my stomach is on an early schedule and my planned meal will not arrive until later in the evening. Sure, there are boxed instant risottos, and I am sure there is even parboiled Arborio Rice. Honestly, I never thought of these options, and I cannot even say they appeal to me. From scratch is my motto. However, fast and from scratch is my mission.

After a day of schlepping files and standing at the copy machine, I cannot stand the sound of my stomach’s whining. When it is time to appease my belly's infant-like tendencies and my longing for creamy rice-like dishes, I whipped up a short, pasta version of risotto using orzo pasta in place of risotto. Innovative? Not especially. Dang good? You know it!

Asparagus and Shrimp "Risotto"

This is one pasta dish that begs to not be al dente. Allow the orzo to get very soft and creamy

For two servings:

1 tablespoon unsalted butter
12 oz asparagus, woody ends trimmed, cut into 1 inch pieces
2 cloves garlic, smashed, green germ removed, and minced
8 oz shrimp

2/3 cup dry orzo ½ cup white wine
1 - 2 cups chicken stock
½ cup or so grated Parmigiano Reggiano
Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

In a large skillet, heat butter. Add asparagus and sauté until they are crisp tender, about 8 to 10 minutes. Add garlic and shrimp. Sauté until shrimp is just turning opaque, about 2-3 minutes. Turn off heat, remove skillet from burner, salt and pepper mixture to taste, and cover to keep warm. Not only do I usually cover the skillet, to get the skillet out of my way, I'll put the it in my oven (not heated) until I'm ready to add the asparagus and shrimp to the rest of the dish.

While asparagus and shrimp are cooking, bring wine and 1 cup of stock to a boil and add orzo. Cook, uncovered, letting the liquid simmer merrily, letting the orzo absorb the wine and broth. If the liquid in the pot is absorbed and the orzo is not soft and creamy, add more stock. When orzo has reached your preferred stage of creamy and liquid is almost absorbed, add the Parmigiano Reggiano, asparagus, shrimp, and salt and pepper to taste.

If the variety police are patrolling, here is an equally good variation:

Prosciutto and Baby Pea "Risotto"

2 medium shallots
1 tablespoon butter

½ cup white wine
1 - 2 cups chicken stock
2/3 cup dry orzo
½ cup or so grated Parmigiano Reggiano
1 cup frozen baby peas
3 oz prosciutto, chopped
Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

Sauté shallot and butter together in a medium stock pan. Add wine and stock. Bring to a boil. Add orzo and proceed as above but add the peas to the orzo and liquid during the last 4 minutes of cooking the pasta. Add Parmigiano Reggiano, Prosciutto, and salt and pepper to taste.

Now I Gnocchi!

2008-04-27T18:40:00.018-05:00

It’s just plain fun to say “gnocchi.” Perhaps this is what prompted me to try this silky and luscious potato dumpling.

Shane: What are we having for supper this evening?
Emilie: Gnocchi. Giggle, snort.

For those who want to pronounce ga-nawchee (much the way I pronounced it until a friend of mine who claims to be Italian laughingly corrected me), repeat aloud: no-chee. Almost akin to saying “no-cheese,” but my gnocchi had Parmigianino grated into the dough.

Admittedly, my little dumplings were not very eye-appealing. Because they were so sticky, as I plopped them one-by-one into boiling water, I could not keep them in their original, pillow-shaped stage. Gnocchi are fickle little guys. At first they want plenty of flour to bind the potatoes, eggs, and spices. However, too much flour and they become bloated and anchored, refusing to free their little gnocchi-selves to rise to the top of the boiling water. Wouldn’t you just gnocchi?

To dignify the not-so-uniform appearance of my gnocchi, I topped the gnocchi with some of my basic marinara enhanced with a touch of well-aged and earthy Gorgonzola cheese. Without the added blue cheese, marinara sauce is just red sauce: tomatoes, onion, garlic, olive oil, and fresh basil. It’s meant to top pizza crusts, be mixed with meat and wine for ragu, or sometimes added to Italian soups for extra punch. If I have some marinara in the freezer, I’ve been known to make a bean and tomato sauce with bacon, and in a pinch on a busy night and when the budget says “recess,” it is tasty enough to toss with plain pasta, cheese or no cheese. Gnocchi, however, is no plain pasta. With enough body to strut in only stilettos, less is certainly more when it comes to how gnocchi should dress. Fitting a lightly sweetened gnocchi with a heavy sweater of red is a fall fashion travesty. How will I do things differently next time? To serve the gnocchi with browned butter mingled with fresh thyme could quite possibly become my fall of ’08 runway hit.

Just the Gnocchi:

Four servings

1 pound russet potatoes
1 pound orange-fleshed sweet potatoes
1 egg plus 1 egg yolk
2 cloves of garlic, green germ removed and minced
½ cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano
½ teaspoon salt
A couple of pinches of nutmeg
Freshly ground black pepper
1 ¼ to 1 ½ cups all purpose flour plus more for dusting

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Prick russet and sweet potatoes, wrap them each in foil, and bake for 1 hour or until soft. Remove from oven and let cool. Once potatoes have cooled enough to handle, peel potatoes and pat off any excess water. Using a standard potato masher, mash potatoes together in a large bowl. Try to mash as many lumps out as you can, although I admit that I left a few lumps on accident. It didn’t seem to hurt the texture. If you own a potato ricer, dust it off, thank the person who gave it to you as an oddball present, and try it. I wish I had one.

Bring a pot of water to boil. Rip up some sheets. Panic. Oh, wait, I’m not in a sitcom and Lucy is not giving birth. However, do start a pot of water to boil because after the flour is added to the dough, you will want to test a dumpling.

Make a well in the mashed potatoes. Add the egg and egg yolk, garlic, cheese, salt, nutmeg, and pepper. Mix well. My hands were the best instrument in this case. Go ahead, get them dirty. Sprinkle about a ½ cup of flour over the mixture and press it in to the dough. Fold dough and sprinkle over more flour. Keep doing this with the remainder of the flour until the dough begins to hold together. You may not need all the flour. In fact, I’d recommend not using all the flour. When the dough is rolled, it will pick up more flour, and you do not want overly-floured gnocchi dough. Do not be afraid of sticky dough. Yes, sticky dough does make ugly gnocchi, but too stiff of a dough will produce a heavy dumpling that will not float. Form a ½ inch piece from the dough and drop it into the boiling water. It should only take about 1 – 1 ½ minutes for the dumpling to float. If the dumpling looks feathery and eventually falls apart, add more flour to the dough. If the dumpling does not float, too much flour has been added to the dough.

Much like an Olympic swimmer soaring to the water’s surface, I’m sure your test piece of gnocchi swam flawlessly to the top of the water. So now the dough is ready to roll and cut. Sprinkle a bit of flour on your work surface, and flour your hands. Divide the dough into 4 to 6 pieces. Keeping the unused dough covered, roll each piece into a ½ inch log and with a serrated knife cut log into ½ inch pieces. The pieces will not be pretty, and your stomach will not care. Continue rolling and cutting with the remainder of the dough keeping the unused dough and formed gnocchi covered.

I hope your water is still boiling. In batches, submerge the dumplings into the boiling water. With a slotted spoon, be ready to scoop the dumplings as they start floating toward the top. It’s likely they will not all cook at the same time, so don’t leave the early developers while you’re waiting for the rest of the dumplings to rise to the surface. Let cooked gnocchi drain in a strainer. After all the gnocchi are cooked, serve with your choice of sauce, keeping in mind you don’t want to cover the delicate taste and texture with anything heavy. Serve with a light salad and a medium-dry white wine.

*Make extra gnocchi and freeze uncooked gnocchi on a cookie sheet lined with wax paper. Once frozen (about an hour later) place gnocchi in a freezer safe bag. When ready to cook, no thawing is necessary; just cook the frozen gnocchi as usual. Talk about an easy weeknight meal!

Flour, Water, Salt

2008-04-20T09:47:00.010-05:00

Concepts that float around and somewhat astound me: people born in 1998 are turning 10 years old this year, which means I will celebrate my 30th birthday this July; Shane enjoys cleaning the bathroom; and a small boule of artesian bread costs $3.00. Add walnuts or raisins to the bread and add another $2.00 to the cost.

What makes bread? Bread is made from flour, water, salt, and leavening, and leavening in this case is a pinch of active yeast juxtaposed with time.

So I will make my own $3.00 bread. In fact, as a good night’s sleep gave me a brilliant idea as I was mixing the ingredients for my dough. I will add fresh thyme and increase the value of my bread to $5.00. Brilliant! I hastily cleaned and stripped thyme twigs. Brilliant! What else can I contribute to my dough? Dried Kalamata figs? I hurriedly chop 3, no 6 figs and add them to the mix. Just right for a small, yet fig-filled, loaf, six figs and about two tablespoons of fresh thyme tickled my nose as I kneaded this morning’s loaf. How fancy of me.

As the loaf baked, comforting smells of sweet and savory drifted in and out of the kitchen. However, the taste of both the thyme and figs were lost in the overall loaf. On my next attempt at a fancy loaf, I will double the amount of figs, and up the thyme to three tablespoons for a one pound (or just under) loaf of bread. If you like a more subtle loaf, keep the amounts as written in my recipe. Typed in parentheses are amounts I believe will make a stronger flavored loaf. I’ll file this one under “still experimenting.”

My First Attempt at a Fig and Thyme Boule

½ cup all purpose flour
¼ cup whole wheat flour
½ cup lukewarm water
1/8 teaspoon active dry yeast

Mix ingredients together in a large bowl, cover, and let sit overnight up to 12 hours. Mixture will be bubbly by the end of 8 hours, but I leave mine for almost 12 hours to increase the flavor of the bread.

When ready to knead the dough, add to the above mixture:

1 ½ cups all purpose flour
½ cup whole wheat flour
1/8 teaspoon active dry yeast
1 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons fresh thyme (3 tablespoons)
6 medium to large dried figs, roughly chopped (12 large)

Add 1 – 1 ½ cups lukewarm water to the mixture. Feel your way through the dough. Sticky dough is good, but do not allow the dough to become soupy. If too much water is added, balance it with a few spoonfuls of flour. The sticky dough will become firmer as the flour soaks up the excess water. Knead dough until it is firm, bouncy, and it passes the windowpane test. This could take up to 20-25 minutes. If you’re used to kneading bread dough in a food processor or with dough hooks in a stand mixer, feel free to do so. I have never kneaded dough with anything but my ten digits, two palms, and a lot of four letter words, so I have no clue how long either of these machines will take to knead bread dough. However, if kneading by machine, I would recommend adding the figs afterwards and just kneading them in by hand until they are incorporated into the dough. A few figs will pop out of the dough on occasion; just poke them back into the dough.

Shape dough into a tight ball and place in a lightly greased large bowl. Cover with plastic wrap or lid. Let rise for 2-3 hours, or until dough has doubled in size. Punch down dough and shape into a boule or whatever shape is preferred. I shaped my dough into a boule and let it rise freeform. However, I usually prefer shaping it to fit my 9 inch round rising basket.

Okay, it’s shaped. To keep dough from drying out on top, I cover the top of the dough with greased plastic wrap. Some bakers prefer lightly dusting a tea towel (non-fuzzy towel) with flour and draping that over the top of the dough, but I’ve never had luck with the towel’s not sticking to the dough.

Rise bread for half as long as the first rise, 1 – 1 ½ hours. At least 30 minutes before the bread has finished rising, preheat the oven to 450 degrees. Slash bread and bake for 30-35 minutes. I usually bake my bread for 35 minutes, but I like well-browned bread. To check for doneness, insert an instant read thermometer into a conspicuous section of the bread (somewhere on the bottom). When it reads 190 – 200 degrees, bread is done. Remove bread from the oven and let cool on a rack completely before slicing.

Listen closely to the bread. When it’s fresh from the oven the bread will sound of crackling, akin to a fall fire or carbon paper receipts being crumpled. Over crashing symbols, pop songs, and even cicadas in the summer, freshly baked bread is my preferred music.

Mangia!

2008-03-27T13:36:00.021-05:00

Okay, I wanted to shout something Italian, and the first thing that came to mind was, “MANGIA!” which roughly translates to the English word EATS! It seemed appropriate enough. Eats, eats! To eat is what we wanted on Friday evening, as two skinny creatures who emerged from an Italian hibernation only to shout, “We wants to MANGIA!” And we wanted to "MANGIA" fast. Using lavish from our favorite Lebanese bakery and a few provisions I had in the fridge, I quickly assembled Friday night's fare. There was even enough time after supper for Shane and I to play Rummy, every game of which I graciously lost.

This time I did time how long it took me to prepare and serve our vittles :

5:45 p.m.: walk in door; greet Shane; change from work clothes into jeans and a sweater; take care of necessary “functions”; wash hands; preheat oven to 450-475 degrees.

6:00 p.m.: thaw lavish in microwave; wash, peel off skin, and thinly slice red onions; chop green olives; crumble feta cheese; wash and chop fresh thyme.

6:15: spread lavish onto cookie sheet; brush with olive oil; scatter feta cheese; scatter onions and olives; pop cookie sheet into oven.

6:16: sip some merlot.

6:20: chop pre-washed romaine lettuce and toss into bowl; throw in extra sliced onions; shred some Parmigianino over lettuce; slice one lemon in half; set lemon aside.

6:21: sip some merlot

6:25: check pizzas and notice they are browning along the edges and cheese is starting to brown and melt; turn off oven but keep pizzas in oven.

6:26: dress salad with juice from half the lemon, tablespoon olive oil, salt, and freshly ground pepper; toss salad.

6:30: remove pizza from oven and cut each piece in half.

6:32: toast dinner with Shane and tuck in.

Including preheating the oven, I had supper on the table in approximately 47 minutes. You too can enjoy a fast and tasty flat bread pizza! Additions such as roasted red peppers (patted dry if juicy), slices of cured beef or Prosciutto, and fresh basil (wait until the pizza comes from the oven to add fresh basil) would be wonderful variations.

Oh, oh, oh, I also think goat brie, sliced figs, and Serrano ham with fresh thyme would oh so divine…

Flat Bread Pizzas (serves 2 for a full meal, 4 to 6 for appetizers):

2 large pieces lavish bread (each almost 12 inches in length)
Olive oil
4 oz feta cheese, crumbled
¼ red onion, thinly sliced
5 or 6 Spanish or Greek green olives, chopped
Handful chopped fresh thyme

Preheat oven to 450-475 degrees (I hit my dial somewhere in the middle).

Arrange lavish breads on cookie sheet and fold each in half lengthwise and crosswise. Brush with olive oil. Scatter over top feta cheese, onions, and green olives. Pop cookie sheet in oven, and bake pizzas for 10-15 minutes, or until brown on the edges and cheese begins to melt. Watch closely and check after 10 minutes so flat bread doesn’t burn. Remove pizzas from the oven and scatter thyme over the top. Cut in piece in 2-4 pieces. Serve with a crisp romaine salad. Shane and I even took some of our crispy edges from the pizza and threw them into the salad. What convenience – pizzas with built in croutons. After a few sips of merlot, I feel like a genius!

Happy Easter!

2008-03-23T19:01:00.025-05:00

Please do not think the only thing I did this Easter weekend was construct a bunny from 2 baguettes, a boule, and a couple of raisins. I also napped, watched several movies, and shared an entire bottle of champagne with Shane (over the course of a day, not in one sitting). It was a very productive, albeit cold weekend. In the course of my weekend, I saw more snowmen than bunnies.

Even as we wolfed our Easter evening quiche, I gazed at snow-glistened rooftops of the flats behind our kitchen window. How hard was it for little Easter boys and girls to find their neon green and magenta colored eggs in the half-melted snow?

To brighten up our not-quite-spring weather, I formulated and experimented with quiche. A light quiche, if possible, and there are tricks to lighten quiches. I’ve seen recipes for both going crust-less quiches and quiches that use a simple mashed potato crust. But hey, what’s a traditional holiday without a little butter and cream -- Just a bit of both? Okay, a bit of cream and a lot of butter. Balance – it’s all about balance.

Forget potatoes, forget a non-existent crust and give me flaky, buttery, browned goodness. Quiche crust, I’m not afraid to do 300 crunches the next morning. (There are no witnesses, but I did do 300 crunches the next morning.) I am an all butter pie crust gal. Crisco scares me, and I still cannot bring myself to use lard (although if I were put into a smoke-filled interrogation room with the blinds drawn and the ceiling fan whirling and causing a shadow upon the table, I would tearfully admit to preferring lard over Crisco before wiping my eyes with my blood red, 1-inch long fingernails).

For those who are intimidated by a pie crust more than being interrogated in a film noir, Gourmet’s all butter pastry dough is a no-brainer. As all good things, it only takes a bit of time to create something memorable (or at the very least, edible).

Shane and I agreed a quiche with asparagus and goat cheese sounded divine, reminiscent of an omelet we had at a nearby diner. However, after searching the internet for a simple goat cheese and asparagus quiche, nothing I found quite passed the Emilie standard. Most recipes called for both heavy cream and whole milk. I keep 1% milk in the fridge for me, and 2% milk for Shane. I don’t have room in either my fridge or my pants for either whole milk or cream. Forget bikini season, I’m just trying to make my skinny jeans go from eye popping to only slightly crushing my spleen. I do, however, keep a small container of fully fattening sour cream. Sour cream has saved me from cluttering my fridge with both buttermilk and heavy cream. From pancakes to potato soup to (now) quiche… oh forget it. I may as well be wearing a ruffled apron and an unnaturally white smile.

I have my crust, I have my main ingredients, and now I have a milk plan. For every 3 parts milk (using 2% milk), use 1 part sour cream, combine in a jar, and vigorously shake. Voila! The milk comes out thicker than whole milk, but not as rich or fattening as pure cream.

Eggs – how many eggs does it take to make a quiche? Two, but I wouldn’t ask them to check out my breaker box. From my quiche-search, the number of eggs to fill a 9 inch crust varied from 3 large to 6 large. What is a girl to do? With a willingness to completely screw up my recipe, I penciled a formula: for a 9-inch pie dish, use 2 whole eggs and 2 eggs yolks combined with 1 cup milk, or 1 cup of combined milk and sour cream. The rest of my quiche plan came together easily.

Here is the formula I concocted for a 9-inch pie plate:

1 9-inch pie crust

2 medium shallots, sliced
12 oz fresh asparagus, woody ends trimmed, and cut into 1-inch pieces on the diagonal
1 tablespoon butter

2 large eggs
2 egg yolks (from large eggs)
¼ cup sour cream
¾ cup 2% milk
3 scallions, white and some green, chopped
Salt and pepper

8 oz soft goat cheese, cut into 15 rounds
Fresh thyme

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Roll out pie crust and fit into 9-inch pie plate. Set aside in refrigerator until ready to use.

In a large pan over medium heat, sauté shallots and asparagus in butter until asparagus are crisp tender, about 5-8 minutes. Do not overcook asparagus or they’ll become mushy in quiche.

While asparagus is sautéing, combine sour cream and milk in a jar, and shake vigorously until sour cream is incorporated into milk. Combine milk and sour cream mixture with whole eggs, egg yolks, and scallions and whisk until eggs are pale yellow and well incorporated. Season with salt and pepper.

Remove pie crust from refrigerator. Crumble and scatter half the goat cheese rounds on the bottom of the crust. Top goat cheese with asparagus and shallots, and pour egg mixture over asparagus. Dot the top of the mixture with remaining goat cheese rounds, distributing them evenly.

Bake on middle rack of the oven for 35 minutes. Quiche will not be completely set, and that’s okay; it’ll continue to cook after it’s removed from the oven. Let quiche cool for 10 minutes or up to several hours (I made mine 2 hours in advance). Serve at room temperature (of, if you must, “nuke” it Shane-style).

Conclusion: Creamy, smooth, and light, even for a dish wrapped in butter and flour. What would I do differently? For starters, I need to measure our pie plate. I have it ingrained in my brain that it’s a 9-inch pie plate, but my filling left a lot of exposed pie crust. For those who love crusts, this may not be an issue. Personally I desire more balance between filling and crust. For my next quiche, I plan on upping the egg quantity to 3 whole eggs and 3 yolks, while increasing the milk mixture to 1 ½ cups. Also, as a request from Shane, I will cut back the amount of goat cheese to about 7 ounces, crumbled and scattered more into the quiche rather than artfully arranged on the top layer. Cheese, butter, and sour cream may not help me fit into my skinny jeans, although I did compromise by forgoing a rich dessert. By eating my bread bunny’s raisin eyes, I compensated.

Beauty and the Baguette

2008-03-08T20:22:00.020-06:00

Before I reveal my startlingly ugly baguette blunders, I want to prove that I can make pretty bread. This is my standard loaf of bread. I made a dough from 2 3/4 cups all purpose flour, 1 1/4 cups whole wheat flour, 2 tablespoons of my home grown sourdough starter, 1 teaspoon of salt, and enough water to make a shaggy to firm dough, roughly 1 1/3 cups. After a 25 minute hand knead and a 30 minute nap, the dough grew nicely in my well floured 9 inch brotform.

Twelve hours later a doughy, lightly sour-smelling butterfly emerged from it's wicker cocoon where I slashed it crosswise with a serrated knife. In a mega-hot, 450 plus degree oven, my beautiful butterfly let out a mighty RAWWRRR as it ripped its crust Ala the Incredible Hulk. Fortunately my bread is not as sour as Mr. Hulk, and it tastes much better with a variety of sweet and savory food things. My latest breakfast trend has been to slather toasted slices with almond butter and plum jam.

Oh but how my ego whimpers as I long to make a loaf that is somewhat passable as a baguette. This darling was one of three that rose horizontally instead of vertically even with my cushioning each baguette with an oil-slicked slice of cling wrap. The baguettes were conceived from the same formula as above. With a quickly sinking love for baking, I slashed each baguette, bummed my beauties couldn't even make it to the swim suit round. Even a blast of hot, gassy air wasn't enough to inflate the impossible. Not feeling worthy enough to display these loaves next to a hearty soup or with a hunk of cheese and olives, I devoured part of each (quite tasty) loaf for breakfast that week. A pop under the broiler and a smear of almond butter and plum jam was yet again a nice way to begin my day.

With a little help from a sheet of parchment paper crafted into a complicated couche, my next loaves did obey my command to sit and stay. The top loaf was another sourdough, victim to a drag and slash. And the bottom loaf is a faux baguette, meaning I used leftover egg and olive oil enriched dough to create a baguette shape in order to practice my slashing technique. Naturally, my mock baguette is the most attractive of the three, although the egg and olive oil gave the loaf a soft crust and mildly flavored crumb. Eating breakfast as if I were a king, or at least prime minister, I toasted slices of the bread, smearing each slice with (mmmm yes) almond butter and plum jam

But my heart beats to beautify my collection of baguettes. While the complicated couche did a stellar job cradling my baguette dough, I prefer the rise-and-dump method of a brotform. It's less fussy and I've never had luck with a real couche. Dough sticks to the cloth, I yell embarrassing words and glare at the oven for the half hour. Therefore, I have almost talked myself into purchasing a brotform especially for baguettes. Perhaps I can once again cheat my way to making more authentic looking baguettes with a promise I'll start pairing even the ugly ones with a gorgeous slice of Stilton to go with my plum jam.

Carbonara Nights

2008-02-26T15:37:00.017-06:00

Four days ago I had enough provisions to feed an army of 500, fresh from the training field. This morning, with a slight panic, I discovered I’m down to a knob of Parmigianino, one onion, one bunch of broccoli, a head of garlic, and some wilting celery and parsnips. The onion must be saved for tomorrow night’s black bean soup. Forget the parsnips and celery, they just don’t sound attractive to me today.

Tonight, in front of my stove, I am Ricky Bobby; “I ‘wanna’ go fast.” Thank the heavens that I keep a few staples on hand, including both pasta and eggs. By combining my love of Spaghetti Alla Carbonara and Shane’s love of roasted broccoli, I created a pretty sophisticated meal from almost a bare pantry.

Gemelli Alla Carbonara di Brocoletti

Really, you can use any pasta you have in the pantry. I had whole wheat gemelli and linguini. I preferred the gemelli, as the smaller pasta turns this dish into a grown-up version of macaroni and cheese.

Start a large pot of water to boil and ignore it. Slice the top off a head of garlic and wrap in foil. Cut the tough stalks off two small heads of broccoli. Complement the small shape of the pasta by cutting off the stems of the broccoli, and cut heads into florets about an inch or so across. Toss broccoli with a tablespoon or two of olive oil, salt, sweet paprika, and a touch of cayenne pepper.

Roast both the broccoli and the garlic in a 425 degree oven until the broccoli is brown and crispy, and the garlic is soft and mellow. Grate a good chunk of Parmigiano-Reggiano into a large bowl; beat in one egg, a generous dash of salt and a good grinding of black pepper. Once the water is boiling and just before taking the broccoli and garlic out of the oven, add about 3 oz or so of pasta to the boiling water. While the pasta cooks, remove broccoli and garlic from the oven, and carefully squish the garlic from its papers. Chop the garlic if necessary. Once the pasta cooks, (mine took a mere 5 minutes), quickly drain the pasta, cooked al dente of course, and immediately toss the hot pasta into the bowl with the egg and cheese mixture. Toss. Keep tossing. Okay, stop tossing long enough to add the broccoli and garlic to the pasta. If you please, toss the pasta mixture again. If there is Parmigianino leftover, sprinkle a bit on top, or save it for a salad. Serve immediately, or as soon as you can pull Shane away from nytimes.com.

This isn’t quite “Shake and Bake”, more like roast and toss, but it’s still pretty fast!

Not Quite Finished

2008-02-24T19:36:00.033-06:00

After a week of pure exhaustion and laziness, I decided it was time to perk up our palates and our plates. Many months ago Shane and I concocted a dish that consisted of cayenne dusted scallops and butternut squash risotto. I made notes, hid them from myself, and just last week I ran across our musings. "Ah!" I thought. "This is exactly the endeavour I need to feed my ego, er, I mean pull myself out of a cooking rut."

Convincing Shane that I can cook $15.00 worth of bay scallops should have been the hardest part of my adventure. Being that this was my first time to ever cook scallops, I was a little anxious on how they would cook. Too long, too rubbery. Too short and we may as well go out for sashimi.

The main part of tonight's meal focused on the the risotto, only to accessorize with scallops and a lamb's lettuce salad dressed with balsamic vinegar. In the morning, I so carefully caramelized a large red onion and chopped and skinned a large squash. I have found the easiest way to chop a winter squash is to score the squash a few times and microwave it for about 5 minutes. This will soften the skin a bit and make for easier cutting. Let the squash cool for a few before hacking into it. I bought about a 2 - 2 1/2 pound squash which yielded roughly 6 cups of chopped squash. Now that I look back, I should have hidden about half of the chopped squash in the back of my refrigerator. Nevertheless, that evening I plunged into my risotto, sleeves rolled and determined to create a memorable landscape of orange rice, Italian-style.

As most risottos list white wine as an ingredient, I opted for a Romanian Gewurztraminer we had hanging around in the refrigerator. For $6.99 for 750 ml, it is very drinkable, and I come from the school that advises if you wouldn't drink it, don't cook with it. From the freezer came the homemade chicken stock, roughly 2 1/2 cups, thawed and ready to be soaked by the scant 1 cup of Arborio rice. A good chunk of Parmigiano-Reggiano, grated until it reached 1/2 cup, sat in a bowl near the stove. I brought the stock to a boil, added all the squash, and simmered, covered, until the squash was tender. Now, to my credit, there was enough stock for the scant amount of rice, even after I simmered it with the squash.

The previously made caramelized onions were gently reheated with 1 tablespoon olive oil. Along with a carefully spice blend of 1/8 teaspoon each of cinnamon, coriander, nutmeg, and freshly ground black pepper. Like a good little risotto chef, I coated the Arborio with the oil, spices, and onion. Left to itself to sauté for 3 minutes, the Arborio further pick up the flavors of the onion. Without feeling the need to perform quality control, I measured a good glug of white wine, a generous 1/3 cup. It was time to add the stock, now a brilliant orange and somewhat thick. My first ladles of broth produced enough liquid for the rice to absorb. But around the fourth or fifth ladle, the stock started getting a little thicker.

This is when I started having squash reservations.

I wasn't even 10 minutes into the game when I started adding more squash and less stock to the rice. When it reached a point where I was stirring a potion and my rice was absorbing all the liquid it could muster, I made an executive decision to thin the squash-laden stock with more wine. As a marathon runner reaches for Gatorade, my rice sucked the liquid and was still skinny and thirsty. After 15 minutes of trying to plump my grains, they were still crunchy and stubborn. So to bring to a simmer, more wine and a touch of water went into the pan of simmering squash. And another dose, more water less wine. More water. By now I should have had a perfectly simmering pot of creamy, plump rice, ready for me to add the cheese and adjust the seasonings. Instead, I had a thick, orange puree that, instead of slightly bubbling, is instead giving way to mini-explosions. The underside of my stove's hood is now worthy of an art gallery.

Thirty minutes, the rice was almost edible, and it was time to start the scallops. In my giant skillet, over medium heat I warmed 1 tablespoon of olive oil. When the oil was warm enough, I added 3 cloves garlic, smashed and then minced. After a minute, in went the scallops, a dash of salt and a grinding of pepper. It only took 2 minutes per side to allow the scallops to sear and release their sweet smell. I dusted the scallops with a smidgen of cayenne and a few knocks of sweet paprika before I covered the skillet and placed it in the cold oven. By removing the scallops completely from the heat and setting them aside for 5 minutes, they gently finished cooking.

In the meantime, I added the grated cheese to the risotto, plunked a lid on the pot, and tossed a salad made of lamb's lettuce, goat cheese, and toasted walnuts. My ever-so-versatile balsamic vinaigrette melded nicley with the goat cheese and tender lettuce leaves. Everytime I make salad dressing, I make a little extra to store in the refrigerator. Grabbing a jar of homemade dressing often comes in handy when I'm juggling to put supper on the table at a reasonable hour.

When the meal was finalized, after 45 minutes of explosions and stirring to create more explosions, I announced dinner and poured Shane and myself the remainder of the Gewurztraminer.

The spice, sweetness, and creaminess of the squash married well with the sweetness and tender chew of the scallops. However, the texture of the rice was faint, and the nutty taste of the caramelized onions I was expecting was masked by the squash. I could not see nor taste the onions. This left the risotto with less spunk than for what I was hoping.

But this dish is not quite finished. I will spend another $15 on scallops (with more confidence) and try another risotto with less squash and more chicken stock, less squash, and more caramelized onions, less squash and more cheese, and less squash -- about half the amount I used this time. And the half of the squash I don't use? Perhaps I'll simmer it in an open pot and add to the art display underneath the stove's hood.

Not Just Another Tom, Dick, or Harry

2008-02-24T11:30:00.020-06:00

As one may conclude from most of my posts, one of my biggest challenges as a cook lies in how interestingly I can prepare vegetables as a main dish. But even more so is how I present the meal to Shane when he asks "What's for supper tonight?". If I answer "lentils and kale" or "sweet potato soup," quite often the lackluster name is greeted with doubt and un-enthusiasm. You mean a plate heaped with gently simmered lentils and grass-green kale doesn't make one's mouth water? What if I said I'm serving both over whole wheat penne? Still, doesn't do the trick, does it? Once the smell of caramelized onions float over the kitchen, once I season tender kale, once I poor the water from the perfectly chewy pasta, once I place a plate of this humble meal on the table, a hungry Shane ignores the bland name. Taste, texture, and sight replace chagrin. "It didn't sound very appetising, but the taste, wow!"

I fancy myself a seasoned vegetarian cook, but I still have issues with making vegetables sound appetising. When I write the weekly menu, sometimes I try to give the dish its proper Italian, French, or Persian name, but this more often is met with a perplexed "huh?", and I have to answer with the crude, American name: butternut squash with pasta; puréed cauliflower soup; eggplant and yogurt dip.

It's not until I place a colorful meal on the table that Shane's interest is piqued. If I've happened to serve chicken next to vividly hued cinnamon roasted carrots or a few shrimp bathing in a spicy curry accompanied by crispy and nutty green beans, the vegetables literally leave the meat cold. And instead of discussing the current political scene or what happened in our individual lives that day, our conversation in steered to how we can develop a meal that focuses only on green beans or carrots.

Ditch the cinnamon. No, keep the cinnamon and maybe some cumin. How about a salad? What about your roasted baby potatoes. Perhaps make some of that lemon tahini sauce with all the garlic. With a side of red lentil soup. What about just making roasted potatoes to dip in a fondue-like mix of melted Gruyère cheese? With some of your roasted cauliflower. That sounds hearty. Would a side salad with toasted walnuts and balsamic vinegar work?

Several years into my game, and it's finally dawned on me. What's in a name? Potato, cauliflower, and carrot fondue? Yawn to yuck. What's in a description? Crisp and tender roasted potatoes and cauliflower with a nutty Gruyère fondue. Mmmm... Is anyone taking notes?

Tired and Saucy

2008-02-22T22:29:00.030-06:00

I don’t want to think about chopping, simmering, or much less cleaning dirty dishes. I’m wiped. My limbs are molded from cast iron skillets. I am akin to the leashed Chihuahua whose owner is dragging it over ice and chill in all good intentions to make it doodle and potty Chihuahua-style. I’m shaking, I’m cowering from the cold, so just take me home and I can sleep in my sunbeam (only to growl at the occasional bug that walks across the floor, but that’s just a personality flaw).

And I still have to go grocery shopping.

Anticipating such days of laziness, I have started doubling sauce recipes that I can store in quart-size freezer bags. By squeezing out as much air as possible (without squirting the sauce out of the bag), and flattening the bag, I can stack my sauces in the freezer for lazy days’ quick bites. Of course there are times when I forget to label the bag, and I can’t always tell a beer-ready barbeque sauce from a wine laden Ragù, but what better way to set the stage for adventurous eating than by tossing silky and smooth pappardelle with a smoky barbeque sauce? Learn from me: take the time to label your bags. If your freezer has been around long enough to quote “Where’s the beef?” and you wonder the same as you root through its contents, I gently command you to include the date of freezing on your label.

Besides storing a basic, homemade tomato sauce, wonderful to keep on hand for last minute pizzas, I like to keep a variety of sauces within easy access. Over the past weeks, I have concocted batches of exotically inspired sauces that invite me to share their warmth and destinations. Ginger-infused spicy peanut sauce whose original intent was to dress a cold noodle salad works beautifully in an all vegetable stir-fry. South Indian curry hints of sweet coconut milk and beautifully picks up the briny goodness of shrimp. A scoop of rice (basmati optional) and sautéed green beans round out this light meal. An old favorite, tangy romesco sauce delivers a wallop of chile peppers, toasted nuts, and robust garlic. Two or three bites and I'm hankering for one sangria after another.

Romesco Sauce is a Shane and Emilie Favorite. Normally I toss whole wheat linguini with the sauce and serve with a dozen and a half of quickly sautéed shrimp. But Friday evenings call for something different and something casual – with pizzazz. And with a quart-size freezer bag not even a quarter full of romesco sauce and a smattering of shrimp neither are enough to feed 2 adults without a little stretching. My endeavor has to be creative in order to stretch the remains of both the shrimp and the sauce and make it so that Shane doesn’t need an after supper ice cream fix. Shane will want an ice cream fix, but, by golly, he won’t need an ice cream fix.

Thanks to my vivacious sourdough starter that gives more than I can take, earlier this week I prepared pizza dough, and it’s been sitting in my refrigerator begging for attention. After lugging home a week’s worth of groceries, I heated the oven to a cozy 450 degrees. Knowing the oven would continue to cook the shrimp to a succulent texture, 30 seconds was all it took to just sauté the shrimp. Over 10 inches of stretched pizza dough, I spread roughly a ½ cup of romesco sauce, scattered the sautéed shrimp, and to give the pizza one more depth of flavor (not to mention sustenance) a good dose of goat cheese completed my last minute nosh.

Twenty minutes crisped the bottom of the crust nicely while leaving the edges chewy, but not too soft. The goat cheese was a touch brown. I was afraid to leave it in longer for fear of overcooking the shrimp, but for those who prefer a browner crust and cheese, five more minutes should suffice. To down play the richness of the pizza, a crisp romaine salad dressed with a crumbles of goat cheese, sliced Kalamata olives, olive oil and red wine vinegar garnished the empty spots on our plates and perfectly complemented the flavors of the pizza.

The verdict?

Emilie: absolute bliss.

Shane: we’ve made it far into the evening, and no ice cream has been consumed.

Ooh La La

2008-02-07T10:50:00.004-06:00

To lower our sometimes embarrassingly high grocery bill, Shane and I have cut back on our meat consumption, replacing fish, fowl, pork, and beef with lentils, lentils, beans, and broccoli. Can you imagine the contests we have after dinner? I’m almost too ashamed to admit I frequently win. However, this past weekend, we celebrated Shane’s 37th birthday by taking a break from our homely, mostly vegetarian meals

Since I have a knack for searing pork chops, I decided upon creating a French-inspired pork chop à la Emilie. Ooh la la. Pork chops swimming in a crème and port wine sauce with zee rich sauce spilling onto zee potatoes mashed with parsnips, carrots, and thyme and finished with butter and a bit of crème of their own, with zee sides of the zee serving platter garnished with crisply roasted fresh green beans. Ooh la la.

Unfortunately I’m not French (did I fool anyone?), and unfortunately my fake accent cannot coyly excuse the rubbery texture of the green beans and blandness of the potatoes. By leaving the beans in a warm oven while I finished the remainder of the meal, I steamed away their crispness. Lesson learned: green beans need to be roasted at the last minute for peak flavor and texture. And although the mashed potatoes were boosted with the nuttiness of parsnips and sweetness of carrots (not to mention a load of butter and cream), they were ho-hum, at best.

However, the pork chops in their port wine and cream sauce, oh my savior, my meal savior! The only sounds in the room were classical music in the background and Shane’s gorging. Who can waste words when there are pork chops to eat? Juicy, tender, faintly pink on the inside pork chops surrounded by cream and a touch of sweetness from the port. This was simplicity that put to shame the fussy preparation of the potatoes.

Adapted from Gourmet April 2007
2 - 4 servings (Depending on how much meat you want to consume)

For the Pork Chops:
2 8oz boneless pork chops, each chop roughly 1 inch thick
Generous grinding of coarsely cracked pepper
salt
olive oil (optional)

For the sauce:
1/4 cup port, tawny or ruby
1/3 cup cream
salt to taste

Crack pepper onto a large plate or platter and sprinkle over with salt. Press both pork chops into the salt and pepper on the plate and generously sprinkle more salt and pepper over the tops of the chops and press into the chops. Heat a large, heavy skillet (I used cast iron) on a fairly high heat. If necessary, brush the skillet with olive oil before. If it's a well seasoned pan, this may not be necessary. Sear the pork chops one minute on each side. Lower heat, cover skillet, and cook pork chops 4 minutes each side. Remove pork chops from the pan onto a plate, cover with foil, and let rest for 5 minutes. The Pork chops will continue cooking until they are pink in the middle.

Add port to the skillet, increase heat, and bring to a boil. Simmer for 1 minute scraping the bottom of the skillet to release the bits of meat clinging to the bottom. Add cream and any meat juices that accumulate on the plate to the skillet, bring to a simmer, and simmer for 2-3 minutes or until thickened. Salt to taste. Add pork chops and turn off heat. This should gently re-heat the pork chops and only take a minute or so. Serve pork chops topped with sauce.

Proving there’s more to me than seared pork chops and cordials, I ended our meal with an old favorite, Chocolate Stout Cake. I love a good beer! I love a glass of pale ale paired with sharp cheddar cheese, I love a bottle of Mexican lager paired with chicken soft tacos, and I especially love a pint of syrupy, bitter stout paired with dark chocolate to create three thick layers of dark chocolate cake. Each layer sandwiched rich raspberry ganache, and for flair, I nestled fresh strawberries to hide the slight indention in the top layer.

My cakes are often a masquerade with a strawberry here and a bit more icing there. Masks and indentions aside, I love the moist denseness of this cake. There is no harsh or cloying sweetness . The tartness of the raspberries in the ganache complement the slight bitterness of the dark chocolate while toning the richness of the cream. Just a slim slice satisfied this normal chocoholic.

Emilie’s note: don’t bother with fancy cocoa powders. Hershey’s special dark cocoa powder makes (and takes) the cake in this recipe. I also highly recommend using an extra stout beer such as Guinness Extra Stout. Go the extra mile, you’ll need the exercise.