May 19, 2012

ricotta, baby leek + mint crostini

Last weekend there was a dinner party. From which, I think, we have only just recovered. And now I’ll pass along the recipes to you. The preparation of the meal was quite easy–I just moved from dish to dish throughout the afternoon. Except for a griddled asparagus salad, nothing I was making involved a last-minute preparation, so nearly everything was completed in advance. This crostini recipe, a version of which was on Food52 earlier in the week, was a no-brainer first course. It takes about 10 seconds to make, and it makes use of some of the season’s best ingredients. I passed over the ramps that were called for in the original recipe because next to their ramps, Waldingfield Farm had baby “King Richard” variety leeks, a crisp and peppery leek that adds crunch and punch to this hors d’oeuvre. We’re lucky in that we have some of the best ricotta around here in New Haven, from Liuzzi. And Ty’s mom had recently sent us some gorgeous, fresh mint from her garden.

The other crostini I made was this one, which you’ve seen before, made from chicken livers from Sankow’s Beaver Brook Farm. If you are interested, here is the entire menu. I’ll be posting these dishes throughout the week.

First Course
Crostini
Chicken liver ♦ Ricotta and baby leek

Second Course

Griddled asparagus ♦ Mustard cream ♦ Prosciutto di San Daniele del Friuli

Main Course

Herb roasted shoulder of lamb ♦ Gratin de flageolets, fenouil

Dessert

Semifreddo alla vaniglia ♦ Composta di rabarbaro

Fromages

I mostly relied on recipes from David Tanis, “A Platter of Figs,” and “Sunday Suppers at Lucques,” Suzanne Goin’s incomparable cookbook. So if you have these books, look up  the recipes and throw your own dinner party. I hope the company you have was as good as ours was.

Ricotta, baby leek + mint crostini

Adapted from TasteFood’s recipe at Food52

  • 20 thin slices of baguette
  • 1 cup whole-milk ricotta*
  • 1/4 cup finely minced baby leeks (“King Richard” was my variety) or minced chives or garlic scapes
  • 3 tablespoons minced fresh mint
  • zest of 1 lemon
  • 1 tablespoon best-quality extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for drizzling
  • juice from half a lemon
  • fleur de sel

1. Preheat oven to 400 F. Place baguette slices on a baking sheet and put them in the oven. Leave until toasted and golden, about 10 minutes. Check them frequently so they don’t become overdone. Remove from oven and cool. This can be done an hour or so before guests arrive. Leave bread on the baking sheet so it doesn’t become soft.

2. Combine ricotta, leeks, mint, zest, and 1 tablespoon of olive oil in a bowl with a fork. When well mixed, refrigerate until ready to serve.

3. To serve, scoop a couple tablespoons of mixture onto each slice of baguette. Place crostini on a platter. Spritz with lemon juice, drizzle with a tiny amount of olive oil, and sprinkle with additional mint or chives (if using), and fleur de sel, as desired. Serve.

*I use the thick, strained kind sold at our Italian market and cheesemaker here in New Haven, Liuzzi. If yours is watery, you’ll want to strain it before using.

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May 15, 2012

asparagus + shallot tart w pea shoots

I had a crazy idea the other night. It was Sunday evening, and I didn’t know what to make for dinner. I had a refrigerator full of a whole lot of odds and ends (from a dinner party the night before), and not much imagination or initiative (due to same). The crazy idea was, “it’s Sunday night; I’ll look in Suzanne Goin’s cookbook, Sunday Suppers at Lucques for inspiration!”  (I told you I was lacking in the imagination department at the time—in the end my obvious thought turned out to be a stroke of genius.) Many times in reading through her gorgeous book, I have been drawn to the various savory tart recipes in it. She uses the same mixture of ricotta and creme fraiche as the base in each tart. It just so happened that for the dinner party the night before, I had used part of a container of ricotta, and part of a container of creme fraiche. I am just a little bit obsessed with using up leftover ingredients before buying more supplies, so I settled on the tart.

Thing was, the only vegetables I had on hand were: a bunch of leftover fresh asparagus I hadn’t cooked the evening before, a few handfuls of pea shoots, and two enormous shallots. (Seriously, they were world-record setting.) None of the tart recipes called for asparagus, but I was totally reassured by the narrative in the cookbook, which told me that you can put literally anything on top of a savory tart. Some of the tarts were served with a traditional salad of fresh herbs; I figured I would use the pea shoots. I didn’t have any puff pastry on hand, but I thought it would take only a few more minutes to make a quick tart crust. (Thank you, food processor; you make my life worth living.) I took Suzanne at her word and got going with the tart.

Not too much later we were eating. We were eating well. And we were enjoying all the flavors of spring on a gorgeous spring evening. If there is anything in this world that tastes like spring, it’s asparagus. And if there’s anything that tastes more like spring than asparagus, it’s a crazy tangle of pea shoots with the lightest possible dressing of lemon and olive oil. The tart is, obviously, extraordinarily rich, and the tangy lemon juice and cold, crunchy pea shoots cut through that richness in the best possible way. The whole dish just works. I think as we pass through spring and into summer, I will be finding more variations on this tart theme. I don’t see what could possibly go wrong. Unless my glass of rosé isn’t properly chilled.

Asparagus + shallot tart with pea shoots

Pastry adapted from Gourmet, February 1999
Filling adapted from Sunday Suppers at Lucques by Suzanne Goin

For pastry:

  • 3/4 cup all-purpose flour
  • 1/2 cup rye flour
  • 1 stick cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
  • 1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves
  • 1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt
  • 4 to 6 tablespoons ice-cold water

Make pastry first:

1. Pulse flour, butter, thyme, and salt in a food processor until mixture resembles coarse meal. Drizzle ice water evenly over mixture and pulse until it just forms a ball. (Do not overwork dough, or pastry will be tough.)

2. Gently press dough into a 5-inch disk and chill, wrapped in plastic wrap, until firm, about 20 minutes in freezer, or at least 1 hour in refrigerator. (Don’t forget it if you put it in the freezer!)

For filling and salad:

  • extra virgin olive oil
  • 2 very large or 4 large shallots (1 and 1/2 cups sliced)
  • 1 teaspoon fresh thyme
  • 1 bunch asparagus (about 14-16 spears), washed and trimmed, cut into 1/2-inch pieces or left whole* (see note)
  • coarse sea salt or kosher salt, to taste
  • coarsely ground black pepper to taste
  • 1/2 cup ricotta
  • 1 egg
  • 1/4 cup creme fraiche
  • 3 to 4 ounces of cheese, cut into small pieces (in this version I used a combination of taleggio and garrotxa left over from a dinner party, but brie, goat cheese, gouda, or any number of other cheeses would be delicious)
  • Several handfuls of pea shoots
  • juice from half a lemon

To assemble tart and make filling:

1. Preheat oven to 425 F. Take dough out of refrigerator and place it on floured counter. Roll it out just until it is just a bit larger than a standard 9- or 10-inch tart pan with removable bottom. Place crust in tin and create a firm edge, reallocating pastry from places where there is too much to fill up holes or gaps in the pastry. (This is not an exact science.) Prick the bottom of the pastry with a fork and place the tart pan on a baking sheet. Blind bake for 10 minutes and remove from oven. Reduce oven temperature to 400 F.

2. While tart crust is blind baking, pour a glug or two of olive oil in the bottom of a large skillet, preferably nonstick. Add shallots and sprinkle with a little salt and pepper. Add thyme. Cook at medium-high heat until shallots are golden and beginning to caramelize. Add asparagus and continue to cook until asparagus turns bright green and is becoming tender. Remove from heat.

3. In a medium bowl, mix ricotta, egg, and creme fraiche. Set aside.

4. When tart shell comes out of the oven, pour ricotta mixture into it. Then scatter cheese bits and pieces around the tart. Then place asparagus spears, bending to fit if they are left whole, or simply spreading evenly if cut into pieces. Scrape all the shallots out of the pan, distributing evenly over the tart. Return the tart to the oven, which is now set at 400 F.

5. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes. Filling should be puffed and set; cheese will be bubbling through in places.

6. When the tart comes out of the oven, let it rest while you prepare the pea shoots. Combine them in a large bowl with the lemon juice, a sprinkle of coarse salt, and a drizzle of olive oil. Mix them with your fingers. Serve a slice of tart in a dish with pea shoots scattered over.

* One note about the asparagus: I sauteed mine just until it was bendy enough to curve around in my round tart pan. If you have a square or rectangular one (or are doing this free-form with frozen puff pastry), no worries there. If you are using a round one, though, I do recommend cutting your asparagus into 1-inch segments. It’s not as dramatic looking, but it is a bit less stressful to assemble and easier to slice and serve. If you do leave it whole, just be sure to use a serrated knife and a sawing motion when you cut slices. The asparagus resists a straight blade!

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May 12, 2012

printemps pesto

There is this moment before summer where the hardiest green things emerge. We’re in that moment now. Last week at the CitySeed market in Wooster Square, for example, I picked up a bunch of rape. You don’t see it around much (its trendier cousin broccoli rabe is quite popular) but it is much the same as turnip greens, sans the turnip. The leaves feel tender, but it is bitter and sharp, and toothsome. It went for a bath in boiling and well salted water for three or four minutes before I squeezed it out, combined it with some fresh spinach I had picked up at the market, and sauteed it with a few whole cloves of garlic and chiles. The spinach leaves had nothing “baby” or “spring” about them. The leaves that had emerged in the cold weather were wrinkly and thick, yet tender. In just a week or two we’ll see those tender greens, but now is the time for hardier stuff.

Same goes for herbs. Our summery friend basil won’t be here for a while. But all the verdure in the market encourages us to think of green things on the table nonetheless. Ty’s mom sent us a shipment of her spring herbs, gutsy branches of sage, oregano, thyme, and tarragon. Herbs this time of year are lustier and have an intensity you don’t see when they begin to produce fresh, tender leaves. I wanted pesto for a number of applications in the kitchen (stay tuned for those recipes) and I threw together some of what she sent me to great effect, largely by accident. When you’re making a pesto with these strong herbs, taste it especially for salt, and consider adding a decent amount of cracked black pepper, or chiles, or lemon to pick it up. You can toss it with pasta, add it to breadcrumbs, use it to season fish or steamed clams, mix it with ricotta and serve it on crostini. No shrinking spring violets here.

Printemps pesto

  • 1 cup parsley leaves, loosely packed
  • 1/2 cup tarragon leaves, loosely packed
  • 1/4 cup thyme leaves, loosely packed
  • 2 cloves garlic
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • zest of 1 lemon
  • a few coarse grinds of pepper
  • 1/3 cup blanched, slivered almonds
  • 1/4 to 1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
  • juice of 1 lemon

1. In the bowl of food processor fitted with metal blade, combine parsley, tarragon, thyme, garlic, salt, zest, pepper. Pulse until herbs are coarsely chopped. Add almonds and process until a paste begins to form.

2. With the blade running, pour olive oil in a stream through opening in top of food processor. You may have to stop after a few moments to scrape down the side before resuming the addition of more olive oil. Add just enough to make a smooth and slightly runny paste. (You usually don’t want pesto to be too thick, or it won’t distribute easily throughout pasta later.)

3. Add the juice of the lemon, scrape down sides, pulse a few more times. Use to dress pasta or for other uses. Freeze excess in an airtight plastic container if you don’t plan to use within 1 day.

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May 8, 2012

eggplant salad

Sometimes I forget that the simplest of salads often don’t involve leafy greens. Just before an abundance of salad greens hit our farmers’ markets, I was at the co-op and spotted an eggplant. I usually don’t buy out-of-season vegetables, but I thought about what a nice change it would be to indulge in one of summer’s signature ingredients. Virtually every eggplant dish I make is a variation on this theme: plunk the eggplant down on one of my gas range’s burners, char it until it is totally blackened, covered with ashes, and seeping fluid onto the range, scrape out the smoky, roasted innards, and then mix that with whatever makes the most sense at the time.

I had a bit of red onion around and so I thought a simple salad with a kick of cumin might do the trick. You could use lemon juice if you have one around. I didn’t, but vinegar did the trick.

Since last week I have visited the CitySeed markets and stocked up on rabe, spinach, carrots, and other seasonal treats (check back soon!) but this salad was a great preview of what summer has to offer.

Eggplant salad

Adapted from this recipe from Gourmet

  • 1 eggplant, about 1 pound, more long and skinny than stout
  • 1/4 red onion, minced finely
  • 1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
  • 1 teaspoon sugar
  • 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
  • 1/4 teaspoon ground cumin
  • 1/4 cup chopped parsley
  • coarse salt

1. Roast the eggplant. I place it, whole, over a gas burner directly on my range. As one side chars and blackens, I rotate it with metal tongs, until the entire eggplant is charred and the flesh has collapsed and is cooked. Alternatively, you can slice it in half lengthwise, place both halves cut-side down on a baking sheet, and place under a high burner (about 1.5″ away from flame) for 15 – 30 minutes, until it is charred and the inside is soft and cooked.

2. Scrape the eggplant flesh from the inside into a medium bowl, and discard skin.

3. Break up the eggplant with a fork. Stir in the other ingredients: onion, vinegar, sugar, olive oil, cumin, parsley. Add a little salt, taste, and add more if needed.

4. Serve at room temperature as part of a selection of tapas, or to accompany roast fish, chicken, or lamb. Heap on toasts to make crostini, garnish with a bit of crumbled feta. This is a flexible dish so enjoy playing with it.

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May 3, 2012

sloppy josé

The New York Times ran a fascinating article on family suppers last Friday. Susan Dominus, who wrote the piece, spoke to people like Laurie David and Ezekiel Emanuel (brother of Rahm and Ari) about what their family meals were like growing up, and how they managed them when they had their own children. The ways parents approach dinnertime conversation are apparently as numerous as the varieties of meals we serve. Thinking back to our meals in the late 70s and early 80s, when we had supper at home every night, cooked by my  mother, and breakfast, too, cooked by my dad, topics of conversation were widely scattered. But conversation there was, and lots of it: small-town politics, farming, national politics, religion, books, church stuff, the schedule for the week. Children were encouraged to participate, but weren’t the focus. We could join in the conversation the adults were having, and often did—but the conversation didn’t pander to us, and I suspect my parents didn’t lose sleep thinking about what stimulating questions they should ask the kids at the table the next night. We all learned to hold our own at that table.

Thinking about that time evokes meals like this in my mind. Every once in a blue moon mom would make sloppy joes for dinner. They were a huge treat because she always cooked from scratch, and only used canned items in a true dinner emergency. We all loved sloppy joes, maybe because it was so unusual for us to see a meal prepared this way. I remember going through the Sunday coupons searching for a coupon for Manwich—the sloppy joe mix that came in a can (I think it still does) that you mixed with browned hamburger to make sloppy joes. I’d put the can in the pantry and keep an eye on it. It was easy to spot because it was taller than the other cans, and so tempting. Mom always added extra ingredients like onion and green pepper. I can still visualize that glossy hamburger mixture heaped on plain hamburger rolls.

This is a version I produced the other evening that I think fits the bill. I dispensed with the can, but it still so easy that you can get dinner on the table—and get down to conversation—in no time.

Sloppy josé

  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 small onion, finely chopped
  • 1 poblano or green bell pepper, finely chopped
  • 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
  • 1 lb. ground beef
  • 4 tablespoons tomato paste
  • 1 teaspoon cumin
  • 1 teaspoon oregano
  • 1 tablespoon ancho chile powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/3 cup white wine
  • 1 cup chicken broth
  • cilantro, finely chopped
  • red onion, finely chopped
  • queso fresco, crumbled
  • 4 ciabatta or hamburger rolls

1. In a shallow pan with sides (a sauteuse or braising pan), combine onion, garlic, poblano or green bell pepper, and olive oil. Saute over medium heat until vegetables have softened and cooked, about 10 minutes. Add ground beef and cook, breaking up with spoon or spatula, until browned. Push meat to the side and add tomato paste, directly in contact with the pan, and cook until caramelized. Add cumin, oregano, chile powder, salt, and combine well. Turn heat to medium-high and add white wine. Cook until wine evaporates. Add broth and stir well. Let mixture simmer briskly (turn heat down if necessary) until thick and glossy, about 10 minutes.

2. To serve, slice rolls. Top each with meat mixture, cilantro, red onion, and queso fresco as desired.

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April 28, 2012

bean + chorizo cassoulet

In general I would say that there are very few ways of getting ahead in life. But one of them is cooking a big pot of beans over the weekend. When I have a ridiculously busy week coming up, I grab a pound of dried beans (I use beans from Rancho Gordo because of their freshness and amazing variety) and simmer them on Sunday. I dip into those beans for dishes throughout the week. I’m only cooking for two here, so if you have a larger family, cook a couple of pounds one Sunday and see what I mean. Once the beans are cooked, the rest of most bean recipes (soup, chili, pot pie, hearty salads, you name it) come together with just about 30 to 45 minutes of simmering.

Beans play well with all sorts of flavors, as evidenced in this recipe. Instead of a traditional cassoulet, which is a major, time-consuming work of art (one not to be missed; probably not one to be made from scratch on a school night if you’d like to maintain your sanity), this takes advantage of the basic beans-and-sausage concept of the original, while adding a little bit of a Latin twist. Pair this with a simple salad of avocado and spinach (dressed with the juice of that lemon you zested and some olive oil and salt), and you’ll have dinner on in less than an hour.

I removed a number of steps (and the use of the oven) from the original recipe from Bon Appetit. It seemed like there was a bit of extra fuss in the original recipe. My guess is the original does cook up thicker in the oven, and perhaps the bread crumbs are a bit more incorporated into the dish, but, after all, we are talking about getting ahead here. All I can tell you is that this is pretty delicious. So grab a pound or two of dried beans this weekend, slowly simmer them on Sunday until they are nice and soft, and set yourself up for a week of great meals.

Bean + chorizo cassoulet

Based on this recipe from Bon Appetit

  • 1 to 1.5 pounds fresh chorizo sausage in 1-inch chunks or balls
  • 5 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided
  • 1 small onion, finely chopped
  • coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
  • 5 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
  • 3 anchovy fillets packed in oil, finely chopped
  • 2 tablespoons tomato paste
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons smoked paprika
  • 1 cup chicken broth
  • 4 cups cooked beans (I used Eye of the Goat, about 1/2 pound dried beans)
  • 2 cups bean cooking liquid
  • 1 28-ounce can whole tomatoes, drained, chopped
  • 1 teaspoon dried Mexican oregano
  • 2 bay leaves
  • 1 teaspoon dried rosemary
  • 1.5 cups fresh breadcrumbs
  • zest of 1 lemon
  • 3 tablespoons fresh cilantro, minced

1. Heat 2 tablespoons of oil over medium heat. Add sausage and cook until browned. Add onion into the pan and cook until soft, about 5 more minutes. Add garlic and anchovies; cook and stir 1 minute more until anchovies dissolve. Add tomato paste and paprika–smear the tomato paste on the bottom of the pan–until paste is caramelized, about 2 minutes. Add reserved 1 cup bean broth, beans, chicken broth, tomatoes, thyme, bay leaves, and rosemary; stir thoroughly and bring to a simmer.

2. Cover and simmer over low heat until beans are very tender and flavors have blended, about 45 minutes. Check occasionally, stir, and add more bean cooking liquid or chicken broth as needed.

3. Meanwhile, heat 3 tablespoons oil in a medium skillet. Add breadcrumbs and cook, stirring to mix in oil thoroughly. Cook until golden and crisp. Be careful because at the end they burn quickly, and will continue to brown off the heat, especially in a heavy skillet like cast iron. Sprinkle with a little salt and pepper, stir in lemon zest and cilantro, and set aside.

4. When cassoulet has simmered, remove lid and stir thoroughly. Sprinkle breadcrumbs over beans. Let cassoulet sit for 15 minutes before serving.

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April 22, 2012

rye + whole wheat buttermilk bread

If we ever win the lottery, the first thing I would do is design a kitchen with a special counter about 18 inches below counter height for kneading bread. I know this sounds crazy, because who wins millions of dollars and then thinks about how much easier it will be for her to knead bread now that she’s on Easy Street? Obviously, I was meant for a life of poor obscurity and drudgery. Or! I was destined to live in a paradise that smells constantly of freshly baked bread, where a 5-foot-tall baker can knead to her heart’s content with perfect leverage, suffering nary a knot in her shoulder.

Especially when you like to bake breads with whole grains, kneading at “counter height” (I swear counters are designed for people over 6 feet tall) for 15 to 20 minutes can be a challenge. I usually stand on one of the bottom rungs of our stepladder when I knead. It gives me a little bit of an advantage that really pays off in minute 12 of the kneading process. This bread, all I can tell you, this bread is worth it. And don’t even think of quitting kneading too soon in the process. You want all those whole grains to form long, smooth strands of gluten. It is what makes this bread so special when you pull it apart, fresh out of the oven. This has to be at least as good as winning the lottery.

I’m not sure what gives this bread its tender soft interior paired with a shattering crisp exterior. I suspect the buttermilk—the only liquid in this bread—is the secret. While I love the flour mixture I recommend below—one-third white, one-third wheat, one-third dark rye—you can combine the flours any way you like. If you eliminate white flour all together, you will need to extend your kneading time and rising may take a bit longer, especially the first time around. The instructions below walk you through how to braid these loaves, which I highly recommend so that you can pull bits of the loaf off and eat them warm, with fresh butter. (Save the second loaf for the prim practice of slicing the next day, for toast and sandwiches. Eating your civilized toast you will reflect wistfully on your savagery the day before.) However, you can also simply form each half of the dough into a loaf, plop it into the pan, and bake it like a normal loaf of bread. No one here is judging you. Anybody who kneads bread for the 15 to 20 required minutes can do whatever he or she wants, in my book. Bonus points if you’re short and your counter is high.

Rye + whole wheat buttermilk bread

Adapted from thirschfeld’s recipe on food52

Makes 2 loaves

  • 2.5 cups buttermilk, heated to about 95 degrees
  • 2 tablespoons honey
  • 1 tablespoon active dry yeast
  • 2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 2 cups dark rye flour (finely ground)
  • 2 cups whole wheat pastry flour
  • 2 teaspoons fine salt or 1 tablespoon kosher salt
  • 1 egg
  • 3 tablespoons butter, at room temperature, very soft

1. In a large bowl, mix warmed buttermilk (it should feel about the temperature of your finger, or use a meat/candy thermometer), honey, and yeast. Whisk to dissolve yeast.

2. Using a wooden spoon, stir in the all-purpose flour, then the rye flour. Stir until well mixed, then add salt, egg, and butter. Stir until mixed again. Add about 1 cup of the whole wheat flour and stir until mixed it. (Dough should be getting very stiff.) If you can add more flour in the bowl, add it 1/4 cup at a time, until you can no longer mix it in.

3. Sprinkle some of the remaining whole wheat flour from the measuring cup onto the clean counter. Dump dough onto counter. Begin to knead, mixing in the remaining whole wheat flour as you knead. Use all-purpose flour to continue lightly flouring the counter if dough sticks. Knead until dough becomes smooth, strands of gluten have formed, and dough’s texture is soft like baby skin. This takes at least 15 minutes.

4. Form dough into a smooth ball and place in a large, oiled bowl. Cover with a warm, damp tea towel and let rise in a warm place for 1 hour, until doubled in bulk. (I use a giant measuring cup for this so I can see the dough has doubled. And I use the “proofing” setting on my oven set to 95 F.)

5. Punch dough down, form a ball, return to bowl, let rise 1 more hour, until doubled in bulk again. Grease and flour two loaf pans.

6. Punch dough down and turn out onto counter. Divide in half. Divide each half into three balls. (I use my kitchen scale to get symmetrical pieces.) Roll the first three balls into thick ropes a bit longer than your loaf pan. Pinch the ends together tightly and braid the ropes, pinching them together again at the end. Snuggle the braid down into the first loaf pan. Repeat with the second half of the dough.

7. Cover pans and return to a warm place. Let them rise again for about 45 minutes to 1 hour, until doubled again. Preheat oven to 375 F. When bread has risen for the last time, remove all coverings from it. If desired, brush with some well-beaten egg and sprinkle with rolled oats or a rolled 7-grain mixture. Pop loaves into the oven on a baking sheet. Bake for about 45 minutes, until loaves sound hollow when tapped on bottom. Remove loaves from pan and let cool as long as you can. Pull apart braids or slice, as you wish.

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April 19, 2012

chicken pot pie with beans + kale

I will file this post under the heading “old dogs: new tricks.” For whatever reason—probably because it was one of the first things I made for supper when I was a kid—I love to make chicken pot pies. And I always make them exactly the same way. This way. And they are delicious.

The other night, however, I didn’t feel like dealing with potatoes, and while I had chicken thighs ready to go, I also had a bag of kale and some Good Mother Stallard beans from Rancho Gordo that I had cooked a few nights earlier. They were tucked away in their cooking liquid in the refrigerator, awaiting their true calling.Which I found for them when I plucked Heirloom Beans, the wonderful cookbook from the founder of Rancho Gordo, off my cookbook shelf and leafed through to find this recipe. It’s a pot pie that uses beans and kale along with chicken thighs. The original calls for a frozen puff pastry crust, which you should definitely use if you have one kicking around. I happened to have some of my rye pastry crust, which works beautifully for pot pies, so that is what I used.

It is hard to describe how good the sauce is that forms around the chicken and vegetables in this delectable pie. It defies reason. Instead of being thickened with a bit of flour, like my usual pot pie, some of the beans are pureed with their cooking liquid and added to the mirepoix-wine-broth mixture in which the chicken is originally simmered. It is so good. (It was really hard not to put 15 or 16 letter o’s after “so” in that sentence.) In fact, if you don’t have or don’t feel like making the pot pie, I would heartily recommend that you simply make this recipe up to the point of the final simmer before the crust is added. Simply eat this as a stew, with some bread or biscuits on the side.

There is quite a bit of prep involved with this, especially if you make your own crust. After you wash and chop everything, while chicken is having its initial simmer, you need to blanch the kale and also puree part of the beans. However, this is also one of those dishes you can partially prep the night before. You could even finish cooking the stew, cool the whole thing in the refrigerator overnight, and simply bring it back to a simmer and then add the crust the next day . If you wanted a midway approach, you could blanch the kale, prep the crust, and of course cook the beans in advance. You could also used a canned cranberry bean with its liquid, I think, quite successfully. In any case, don’t miss out on this hearty and healthy pot pie. I don’t think I’ll be making the old version again any time soon.

Chicken pot pie with beans + kale

Adapted from Heirloom Beans by Steve Sando and Vanessa Barrington

  • Half recipe of this rye crust, rolled out on parchment to fit over the dish you are using, and held in the refrigerator until needed
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil
  • 1.5 to 2 pounds boneless, skinless chicken thighs
  • 1 medium yellow onion, finely chopped
  • 3 medium carrots, scrubbed, peeled, finely chopped
  • 2 celery stalks, scrubbed, trimmed, finely chopped
  • 2 teaspoons tomato paste
  • 1 cup dry white wine
  • 1/2 teaspoons dried thyme
  • 1 bay leaf
  • 1.5 cups chicken broth
  • 2 bunches (about 6 ounces) of kale, washed, trimmed, chopped
  • 2.5 cups cooked cranberry beans or Good Mother Stallard beans plus cooking liquid
  • coarse salt and freshly ground pepper

1. Select a heavy casserole pan with a lid that can be used on the stovetop and in the oven. Or, select a saute pan for preparing the filling, and plan to dump it into a large pie plate later to be topped with crust and baked.

2. Warm olive oil over medium-high heat until it shimmers. Add chicken thighs and brown first on one side, then flip to the second side until it is also browned. Remove thighs to a plate or platter and add onion, carrot, and celery to the pan. Saute, stirring frequently, until vegetables are soft and a dark brown fond is forming on the bottom of the pan, about 8 to 10 minutes. Add the tomato paste and caramelize it a bit on the bottom of the pan, and then add the wine. Using a wooden spoon or other utensil that won’t scratch your pan, scrape the fond up into the wine quite aggressively, blending it into the sauce. Let the wine bubble away almost completely.

3. Return the chicken to the pot, with the thyme, bay leaf, and chicken broth. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Bring to a boil. Cover the pan and reduce heat to a simmer and cook for 30 minutes, until thighs are cooked through.

4. While the chicken is simmering, bring a large pot of lightly salted water to a boil. Add the kale and blanch it for about 3 to 4 minutes. Drain it and rinse under cold water. Squeeze all the water from the kale, so that it form a dry, compact ball. Set aside.

5. Measure out 1 cup of the beans plus enough liquid to come just beneath the top layer of beans in the 1 cup measure. Pour the 1 cup of beans plus liquid into the blender or food processor fitted with the metal blade, and puree until completely smooth. Return this mixture to the additional 1.5 cups of whole beans and set aside.

6. Preheat oven to 425 F. When chicken has cooked for 30 minutes, add the dry kale, beans and puree to the pot. Stir well and simmer for another 15 minutes, without the lid, to allow the flavors to blend. Taste carefully and season with salt and pepper.

7. Remove pan from heat. Take the rye crust rolled out on parchment and invert it over the pan. Peel parchment from the back of pastry. Fold over any edges that hang over and crimp them roughly. Cut slits into the pastry and pop into the hot oven. Cook for 15 to 20 minutes, until pastry is browning, crisp and flaky. Let the pot pie rest for 15 minutes before serving.

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April 15, 2012

smoked trout + asparagus salad

After we feasted on this salad the other night, I got the third degree from Ty: where did the recipe come from? I’m not quite sure really. I kind of applied the transitive property to a couple of things in the refrigerator, and landed on this particular combination. So much of cooking is this way for home cooks, I think. We know that A traditionally goes well with B, and that C traditionally goes well with B, and therefore A and C also make a great pairing. Sometimes you get several degrees away in these relationships and still end up with something stunning. So with this salad.

I think the original inspiration here is our annual trip to the Adirondacks, where we stay in Keene, N.Y., at the delightful Dartbrook Lodge. (Note to self: plan this year’s trip.) While there, one of the delights of local cuisine that we enjoy is smoked trout. It is served there on Club crackers (why are they so good?) and on spinach salad, and with eggs, and in all cases with some combination of horseradish cream, capers, or red onions. Every restaurant in the area seems to feature smoked trout in one dish or another, and like many foods that we associate with a particular place, we love the food more because of the location where we’ve enjoyed it. And vice versa.

Asparagus pairs as naturally with eggs as does smoked trout, which you frequently find with scrambled eggs at breakfast. Potatoes are a lovely companion to asparagus, and also eggs. Red onions and capers are both the frequent companions to these items. And asparagus, smoked trout, eggs, and potatoes all love horseradish. I should pause here to say that my lovely colleague Lani, who makes her own horseradish each year with her husband, gave me a jar of the potent stuff. Without it, this dish would not have been possible! I know the pain and suffering involved with grinding one’s own horseradish, and I therefore treasure it all the more.

Each component of this salad is blanched or browned separately to prepare the final dish: bacon crisped, eggs hard-boiled,  asparagus blanched,  potatoes boiled. All of these things can be done in advance—a few days in advance, even. (Except the asparagus, which is always more crisp-tender if blanched and iced just before eating.) The dressing, a simple mixture of Greek yogurt, mayonnaise, horseradish, and lemon juice, can also be prepared the day before. Or, you can do as I did, and come home from work and set a pot of water to boil and fry your bacon. (Truthfully I should also note that the bacon is absolutely unnecessary to the success of this dish. It is marvelous without it.) Everything gets cooled with chilled water before composing the salad (now is when you can fry up your croutons) and you are ready to eat.

While putting this together has its logistical challenges, none of its components are difficult, and all in all it is a route to an easy weeknight supper. Happy spring!

Smoked trout + asparagus salad

Serves 4

  • 4 eggs, hard boiled
  • 1/4 cup greek yogurt
  • 1/4 cup mayonnaise
  • 1 tablespoon horseradish
  • juice of 1 lemon
  • 3 medium waxy potatoes, such as red bliss or Yukon gold, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch to 1-inch cubes
  • 1 bunch asparagus (about 20 spears), washed and trimmed of tough stems
  • 3 slices bacon (optional)
  • 8 ounces of smoked trout, skin removed
  • 2 tablespoons capers, rinsed
  • 1/3 cup finely chopped red onion
  • 8 slices of ciabatta or baguette
  • olive oil for frying ciabatta or baguette

1. If you do not have hard-boiled eggs on hand, make them first. Place 4 eggs in a pan, just covered with water. Put the lid on the pan and bring to a boil. Remove from heat and let sit, without disturbing the lid, for 10 minutes. Remove eggs from pan and plunge carefully into very icy water until you are ready to prepare the salad.

2. Make dressing: combine yogurt, mayonnaise, horseradish, and lemon juice in a liquid measuring cup or small pitcher. Set aside.

3. Place potato chunks in a pot with a lid and cover with cold, salted water. Bring to a boil over high heat and leave at a simmer until just tender, about 10 minutes. Test a large potato chunk to be sure they are cooked. Drain in a colander in the sink and rinse thoroughly with cold water. Set aside.

4. Refill potato pot with fresh water. Salt lightly and bring to a rolling boil. When it boils add asparagus and blanch until crisp-tender, 4 to 5 minutes. Remove asparagus from pan into another pan filled with very icy water.

5. Meanwhile, if using, in a skillet over medium heat, brown the bacon until it is very dark and crisp. Drain on paper towels and set aside. Wipe out skillet and add enough olive oil to cover the bottom. Heat over medium-high until shimmering. Add ciabatta or baguette slices and fry until deep brown on the first side. Quickly and carefully flip the slices and brown on the second side. Remove to a paper-towel lined plate.

6. Assemble the salad: Remove eggs from ice water (or refrigerator if already cooked) and peel them and cut them in half lengthwise. Arrange asparagus, tips pointing to rim of platter. Heap potatoes in the center of the plate (on top of asparagus stems). Drizzle some of the dressing over potatoes and asparagus stems. Arrange halves of eggs around potatoes among asparagus spears. Break up smoked trout and distribute over potatoes, asparagus and eggs. Do the same with bacon, if using. Distribute chopped onion and capers over entire platter. Drizzle everything with more dressing. Serve with croutons on the side.

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April 12, 2012

double coconut orange pound cake

I don’t think it’s an accident that spring holidays like Passover and Easter feature coconut-based desserts. This time of year, when the air is warming, calls for lighter flavors and fruitier finishes to meals. But there is still no local fruit! We are ages away from having even strawberries here in Connecticut. Coconut, brightened up with a bit of citrus, seems to fit the bill. At home for Easter we make coconut cake and coconut cream pies. Sometimes my grandmother makes the coconut cake in the shape of a bunny. (Pink jelly beans for the eyes!) Trust me, it is too adorable, but not too adorable to eat.

Last weekend my thoughts naturally turned to coconut. (I wasn’t the only one who went this way last week. Don’t these recipes look fantastic?) I’ll be the first to admit that when I read this article by Melissa Clark in the Times last year, I found it slightly annoying. Why would you use coconut oil when melted butter would do just fine? But the article haunted me, and I bought a jar of coconut oil. Which actually is not in the form of oil in the jar; it’s a solid white mass at room temperature. For this recipe, for example, you have to melt it first. (So that it doesn’t cook the eggs a bit, I blended it with the sugar first.) It smells rather lovely when you’re gently melting it, and it has the faintest flavor of coconut. And you know how much I love cakes that don’t require a mixer. This one falls squarely into that category of confections beloved by this lazy cook.

I wanted my pound cake to burst with coconut flavor, so I added a cup of shredded coconut to the recipe Melissa Clark ran in the Times. And I added orange zest. (I think lime would be terrific here as well.) And vanilla. (Why was that missing, anyway?) The result is a cake you can mix up in five minutes. As with most cakes made from an oil (rather than butter) base, the flavors distribute nicely overnight and it will taste better the next day. Or perhaps even the next day after that. Although I don’t have first-hand knowledge, as this one disappeared before I could test that theory.

Based on this recipe  from Melissa Clark, and this recipe  from Gourmet.

  • 1/2 cup slivered almonds
  • 1 cup plus 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
  • 1/2 cup virgin coconut oil, plus additional for greasing baking tin
  • 3/4 cup whole milk
  • 3 large eggs
  • zest of 1 navel orange
  • 1 and 1/2 teaspoons vanilla
  • 1 cup unsweetened shredded coconut
  • 1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1 3/4 teaspoons baking powder
  • 1/4 teaspoon grated nutmeg
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt

1. Preheat oven to 350 F. Grease a 9 x 5-inch loaf pan with coconut oil. Line the loaf pan with parchment by cutting a piece just under the length of the pan (9 inches) but at least 18 inches long so that it will overhang the edges of the loaf pan to ease in lifting cake out of the pan when it is done. Grease again on top of parchment and set aside.

2. In a small bowl combine slivered almonds, 2 tablespoons of granulated sugar, and 1 tablespoon of water. Stir until very well mixed and set aside.

3. Melt the coconut oil over very low heat on top of the stove, until just barely melted and not very warm. (This can also be done at 30% power in the microwave in a glass measure.) In a large bowl combine melted oil and 1 cup of sugar. Mix well. Add milk, eggs, zest, vanilla and coconut. Mix well and set aside.

4. In a medium bowl, sift together flour, baking powder, nutmeg. Whisk in salt. Add dry ingredients to the wet ones and stir just until combined. Do not overmix. Pour batter into prepared pan and sprinkle almond mixture over top. Place pan in preheated oven. Bake for 60 to 65 minutes, until a toothpick inserted near center comes out clean, and cake is well browned and springs back slightly when touched near center with a fingertip.

5. Let pan cool for 10 minutes on cooling rack. Then run a knife around the short ends of the pan (long edges should be lined with parchment sticking up), and then use parchment edges to lift the cake from the pan onto the cooling rack. Let cake cool completely before serving. Store in an airtight container.

 

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