Fight-Back Friday Frijoles!

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

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

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

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 oil

1 1/2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

1 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.

Now I Gnocchi!

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!

Carbonara Nights

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!

A Carrot in Every Pot

As it’s steadily getting colder and wet snow is descending upon the city, I’m anticipating a frigid apartment when I get home. The thought of creating a soothing, golden soup, or as I like to call it, potage, entices me more than tonight’s originally planned dinner of roasted carrots, yellow cauliflower and acorn squash. In the soup pot, carrots, onions, and fresh rosemary will slowly sauté in a dot of butter and a pinch of cinnamon, while acorn squash and cauliflower, tossed with olive oil, salt and pepper, slowly roast, so as to lend nutty, caramelized depth to the soup. When the onions and carrots are perfectly sweet and tender, in goes 3 or so cups of homemade chicken broth in which the carrots will simmer until they are soft enough to puree. After the cauliflower and acorn squash are soft enough, they will be added to the carrots and broth, and all will be whirled in a blender (in several batches so as to not blow the top of the blender by the hot liquid), garnished with ground pepper, a touch of smoked cheese, and served with a piece or two of crusty, sourdough bread, and it will wrap Shane in a blanket of bliss.

Sunny, hearty and rich without the use of cream (although I did sprinkle a bit of smoked cheese over the top), The potage was the perfect heater for our chilly evening. The more I savored the soup, the more I enjoyed the flavor, down to the last scrapings in the pot. At the point my stomach could not hold anymore, the soup tasted its best. Unfortunately the cheese did not compliment with a rich, smoky flavor as I had anticipated, although the smoothness of the cheese did pair well with the velvety soup. Cheese is not a necessity to enjoy this soup, but if I must, next time I will try a Stilton or perhaps a nutty Comté.

After exchanging a few mmms and sighs, Shane and I agee this potage is a keeper, especially during the cold months inside our apartment.