The Most Important Meal

So for breakfast the other weekend, I had this craving for harissa, and a poached egg. Something kind of just like this:

I have learned, from Michael Ruhlman’s blog, an easy way to poach an egg. You do not need the special spoon he’s selling, though. You just need a spaghetti server, that big pronged spoon with holes in it. (A regular slotted spoon might work, too, depending on how yours is constructed.) Set a pot of water on high heat, and when it’s boiling, crack the egg into the spaghetti server. Do it over the sink, because the point is that you want to get rid of the liquidy part of the white. It takes a little dexterity, but it’s worth it, because then you just dump it in the water, turn the heat down a bit, and wait a minute or two. I like the yolks really runny, so that’s all it takes, and then you scoop it out. 

Then you just have to decide what to do with your egg. Like I said, this one was destined for some harissa. You can buy pre-made harissa, but what fun is that, when David Tanis has such an awesome recipe for it, and everything you need is right there in the pantry?

Toast some cumin, coriander, fennel, and caraway.

Grind them up, mix with some paprika, cayenne, salt, and minced garlic. Add in olive oil and a bit of red wine vinegar, and you’re good to go.

All that remains is to plate it up. I used the last of the pea shoots I’d gotten in my last Winter Sun Farms, and a piece of toast. The perfect way to start my Saturday.

For the Love of Harissa

I have been craving harissa lately. Harissa is a Tunisian condiment, common all over North Africa (and beyond). It is sweet and spicy and rich with olive oil and hot chile peppers. Try it on bread, eggs, vegetables, meat–I’ve even seen it used on pasta. Much like chimichurri in South America or sriracha in Southeast Asia, there are dozens upon dozens of variations, both homemade and available commercially. You may well have your own favorite recipe or brand; mine is from David Tanis’s book A Platter of Figs and Other Recipes. It’s got fennel, caraway, coriander, cumin, paprika, cayenne, and garlic. And I’ve had a serious yen for it the last few weeks. Luckily, my spice cabinet is very well stocked, so made up a batch the other night–and then had to figure out what to eat with it.

Something drew me to the combination of harissa and turnips. I’ve found turnips to be a little astringent in the past–I can’t help thinking of horseradish when I cut them up.  So I thought roasting them (with some other vegetables) would bring out some sweetness, and then drizzling with harissa would add a welcome bass note to the flavor profile of the dish.

“Other vegetables” ended up being carrots, Carnival squash, and beets. I wasn’t sure how beets and harissa would do together, but since it seems some recipes for harissa include pureed beets, I figured it would turn out ok.

While the veggies roasted (with a couple cloves of garlic, some thyme, a bay leaf, and a dried chile pepper), I cooked up a pot of bulgur. This involves boiling some water, dumping in the bulgur, turning off the heat, and leaving to sit (covered) until the rest of the meal is ready. It’s that easy, as Ina would say. You can use stock, too, if you like. I did not, but I added the same aromatics as I did to the veggies–bay, thyme, dried chile. And then when it was properly soaked, I drained it and mixed in some fresh parsley and mint.

By that time, the veggies were all nicely roasted. Note that many recipes for “roasted root vegetables” advise you to cut everything into roughly equal-sized pieces. This is not actually the best way to go, in my mind, in retrospect. Carrots are nice when there is still a little crunch to them. Turnips cook quicker than beets, and both must be cooked all the way through to be enjoyable. Sweet potatoes would be nice, but I had winter squash, and that cooks faster than anything else in the baking dish. Just something to think about for next time.

In the end, this is basically a salad: grain + vegetable + dressing. Normally I don’t bother to write about such simple meals, but there’s so much good flavor in this one that I’m making an exception.

Roasted Vegetables with Bulgur and Harissa
serves 4

1/2 lb each of:
    turnips
    carrots
    beets
    winter squash (or whatever sturdy vegetables you like and have on hand)
2 garlic cloves, lightly smashed and peeled
2 sprigs fresh thyme
2 bay leaves
2 dried chile peppers
1 c bulgur
2 c water
2 Tbsp parsley, chopped
1 Tbsp mint, chopped
olive oil
salt
fresh ground pepper
harissa, to taste (Tanis’s recipe is available here, among other places–or use your own)

Preheat the oven to 400F.
Peel the vegetables and cut them into roughly bite-sized pieces, going a little smaller on tougher things like beets and larger on things that cook faster, like winter squash. Toss them into a baking dish with some olive oil, salt, the garlic cloves, 1 thyme sprig, 1 bay leaf, and 1 dried pepper. Roast for 25-35 minutes, or until the vegetables are cooked to your liking.
Bring 2 cups of water to a boil in a saucepan. Pour in a teaspoon or two of salt, and then the bulgur, along with the remaining thyme, bay, and pepper. Turn off the heat and slap a lid on the pot. Let it sit, 15-20 minutes, until the bulgur has absorbed all (or most) of the water. If there’s still water left in the pot when the texture of the grain is right, strain it through a sieve. Then stir in the chopped parsley and mint.
Pick out the aromatics from both the bulgur and the veggies, and combine in a big bowl. Serve with as much harissa as you like.

Transitive Property of Pickling

I did not know what to do with those funny rat tail radishes this year. The novelty had worn off, frankly, so plain old crudite was out. The Days of Endless Salads were drawing to a close, and I didn’t have any brilliant ideas for, you know, actually cooking them. And then I saw a post on one of the, ahem, 39 food blogs in my google reader, adapting David Tanis’s pickled turnip recipe to use for kohl rabi. And I started thinking, “Hm, turnips and radishes are practically the same thing, aren’t they? And a rat tail radish is just a radish in bean form. So this pickling recipe should be perfect for them!” All of which makes perfect sense to me.

So I pulled out my copy of A Platter of Figs and Other Recipes (which I hadn’t cracked open in far too long) and mixed up a batch of the brine.  It’s a cider vinegar base, with a bit of olive oil and a pantload of herbs and spices, including thyme, oregano, turmeric, coriander, fennel…

I trimmed the tapered bit off the radishes, because I’ve noticed that they are a little tough at the end, and I didn’t think even the pickling process would change that, but otherwise left them whole.

The various pickled things I’ve made in the past usually involved cooking the vegetables somewhat, either by roasting, or by pouring the hot brine directly onto them. And then basically you wait a day and, presto, pickles! But Tanis wants these things to actually go through a pickling PROCESS. How tedious. So into a jar they go, and wait a week.

In retrospect, I should have stuck a post-it note on the jar to remind myself just when I put them in. In any case, I got bored waiting by Monday and decided they were ready. VERY spicy, which is probably in part because the radishes themselves have quite a bit of kick, and partly because this is yet another recipe that calls for a certain number of teaspoons of red pepper flakes, rather than, say, 1 dried red pepper, crushed. (Am I the only person who keeps them whole in my spice rack? Does no one else run into this problem of measurement? Or does everyone else have the patience to crush one up and measure it out?) Point being, I probably put in a bit more than necessary.

End result: not as delectable as the carrots, and not going to be as useful as the peppers (which, for the record, AMAZING draped over a grilled cheese sandwich. and now I’m hungry).  I feel slightly compelled to make the chicken terrine in aspic that is the main course from this menu in A Platter of Figs, though, if only to experience the proper effect of that pairing. But who’s going to eat a dish of jellied chicken with me? Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Winging It

K. and A. came over for dinner Monday night. I know that conventional wisdom dictates against trying out new recipes when you have guests, but I’m not a terribly conventional person.

Our first course (not pictured) was cold borscht, from A Platter of Figs, seasoned with cloves, coriander, bay leaf, and cayenne, and then finished with yogurt. I had never made borscht before (not entirely sure I’d even eaten it before), but I trust David Tanis kind of inherently by now. The beets I had were chioggas, which have the benefit of not staining everything in sight purple, an especially useful trait when they need to go in the blender. But the soup winds up not being the striking deep red that it would otherwise be. And I didn’t get the garlic chives I wanted to sprinkle on top. Hence no photo.

Our second course was stuffed peppers. In this case, not only is it a dish I hadn’t made, but I was flying without a proverbial net. I had those gorgeous purple peppers to start with, and then I basically looked in my fridge, freezer, and pantry, and tossed a bunch of stuff together. The stuffing I wound up with was royal quinoa and white northern beans, with a little onion, a hot pepper, grated parmesan, and summer savory.

Then for dessert, I followed Gourmet‘s recipe for plum clafoutis. This is one where I just suddenly decided on Monday that clafoutis was a great word, and that I absolutely had to make it. I thought it was going to be apricot but when I got to the greenmarket at lunch, I inferred that apricot season is over, but plum season is at its peak. So I got a couple of pounds of what are called Italian prune plums. I subbed in sweet Marsala for the brandy, and halved the plums rather than cutting them in eighths. But I think I can say that it was a total success.

I think I’ve accidentally memorized the recipe for clafoutis, which is only bad because I can see myself making it all the time. Which would maybe not be a bad thing…

Stuffed Peppers

5-6 bell peppers
1 c. quinoa
2 c. cooked white beans
1/2 onion, diced
1 hot pepper, minced
1 Tbsp summer savory, minced (alternately, 1 tsp. thyme)
2 Tbsp grated parmesan
olive oil
salt

Rinse the quinoa, and put it in a hot sauce pan over medium heat. Stir until the grains are almost dry and smell slightly nutty. Pour 2 1/2 c. water on top, add 1/2 tsp salt, and bring to a boil. Lower the heat and simmer for 20 minutes. Check to see that it’s cooked through, and drain off any excess water.

Meanwhile, cut out the stems and cores of the peppers. Place in a baking dish and roast at 375F for 10-15 minutes.

Pour a little olive oil in a hot sauce pan (you can use the same one the quinoa cooked in if you’ve already drained the grains) and add the onion and hot pepper. Cook for a few minutes, until the onions are starting to brown, then add the beans and the fresh herbs. Stir until the beans are heated through, then turn off the heat. Mix in the quinoa and the grated parmesan. Taste for seasoning, and add more olive oil if it seems dry.

Spoon this mixture into the par-baked peppers, and stick them back into the oven for 20 minutes.

An Urge to Watch CGI Rats Cooking French Food

J. came over for dinner last night, and the plan was, essentially, ratatouille (a.k.a. pisto). We started off here: Eggplant-Pepper Tomato Sauce
and then ignored that completely and looked at a recipe card I’d written down after watching Wolfgang Puck make pisto on the Food Network maybe 7 or 8 years ago. It’s more of a list of ingredients than a recipe, but that’s what usually results in the best meals in my kitchen.

I believe it reads:
1 eggplant
1 zucchini
1 bell pepper
2 tomatoes
basil
oregano
olive oil
salt
red pepper flakes

combine all ingredients in a pot, cook for 30 minutes.

No, really. That’s the recipe.

We played fast and loose with the quantities, and varieties, nixed the red pepper flakes, and dumped in some fresh parsley instead of oregano because it turns out that is something I am out of. (Note to self: buy oregano) Then topped we it off with some eggs,

and served with some delicious rosemary bread. (Additional note to self: make this again next time I get fresh oregano, and make the Pain de Campagne, too.)

Then for dessert, I’d bought these gorgeous but not-quite-ripe peaches at the greenmarket, and I had a bottle of sauvignon blanc stashed in the fridge, so we pulled a quick David Tanis, sliced up the peaches, drizzled with just a little honey, and dumped in half the bottle of wine, and stuck the bowl in the fridge until after dinner. (This is another recipe from the Yellow Dinner meal I made for M. and R.) It’s basically white wine sangria, with the ratio of wine-to-fruit reversed. Delightful.

Things I Never Ate as a Child

Growing up, we did not eat eggplant. I think my dad didn’t like it, and much like my mom’s distaste for beans, that preference was one of the deciding factors of our dinner menu. Then there were the foods that just didn’t cross anyone’s minds to cook, like Swiss chard. As an adult, I’ve explored the produce panorama pretty extensively, and discovered that I really love a lot of these things. In searching for a vegetarian lasagne recipe earlier this year, for example, I found one from Deborah Madison that is made with Swiss chard and eggplant, and it is absolutely delicious. Her note in the margin of the cookbook talks about how that particular combination brings out a synergistic depth of flavor in the dish, and I couldn’t agree more.

This week’s delivery included a couple of eggplants and a big bunch of chard. But it’s July. And it might well be unseasonably cool in New York City, but I’m not making lasagne. (I already baked zucchini bread today, this time with cashews and cocoa nibs, and that was quite enough use of the oven, thank you very much.) So I decided to adapt a recipe I found on Not Eating Out in New York.

First, though, a cucumber salad. This is something I ate a LOT of as a kid, because I didn’t care for lettuce, and it was an easy way for my mom to get some raw vegetables into my stomach. Our family recipe was impossibly simple–peeled cukes sliced thin on a mandoline, tossed with olive oil, red wine vinegar, a little salt and sugar, and sometimes some chopped tomato. Tonight I got fancy.

I had 2 slicing cucumbers, and 2 heirlooms of a variety called Boothby blonde. I took one of each.

Many recipes advise that you remove the seeds from your cucumbers (a spoon works well), but personally, I like the flavor with the seeds. So they stayed.

The recipe was another from David Tanis’s A Platter of Figs, and it might not have been a culinary match for the eggplant dish I was planning, but it sounded good. Mix the cuke slices with some julienned ginger, a little salt and pepper, some fish sauce, and some brown sugar. Let it sit while you dice up a hot pepper of your choosing (this is a Holland chile).

Toss in the pepper and squeeze over some lime juice.

Then cover and stick in the fridge until dinner is ready. In my experience, cucumber salad tastes better the longer you let it marinate. When you’re ready to serve it, toss in some chopped mint and basil and scallions.

And now, moving on to the real thing. And let me tell you, this is a recipe that’s going in the permanent repertoire. It’s one of those meals where I had to force myself to put the leftovers away before I served myself a third plate.

Start off with some eggplant. Any variety will do, though not the little baby ones.

Slice them about 1/2″ thick, sprinkle some salt over them, and let them sit a bit while you mix up the breadcrumbs.

I suppose you could use pre-seasoned breadcrumbs, but where’s the fun in that? So mix together some plain breadcrumbs with salt, pepper, and some chopped fresh herbs–thyme and savory worked beautifully, but rosemary would be great, and probably oregano, too. Or parsley. Hard to go wrong, really.

Cook the slices in olive oil, not much more than a minute each side. (I won’t admit how much olive oil I went through tonight, although I will say that I’m glad I hunted for regular as opposed to extra virgin. The smoke point is much higher.)

Set the eggplant aside and turn to the chard. You could do this step first, but that involves thinking ahead. Separate the stems from the leaves, and dice the stems as finely as you have patience to do.

Chop the leaves very roughly.

Cook the stem bits for a few minutes, and then add some sliced garlic cloves and white beans.

Once they chard is mostly tender and the beans are warmed through, add the leaves, stir, and cover. Stir a couple more times over the course of a few minutes, and you’re ready to go. The original recipe called for chopping up some capers and some sundried tomatoes as a garnish, which is perfectly nice but almost unnecessary.

In retrospect, a spicy Asian cucumber salad with a breaded Italian dish pairing is not the most, um, cohesive pairing. But both were delicious.

Eggplant Schnitzel with Swiss Chard and White Beans

2 eggplants (about 1 lb), sliced lengthwise, 1/2″ thick
3/4 cup breadcrumbs
1 tsp chopped fresh herbs (e.g. thyme, rosemary, oregano, savory, parsley)
1/2 tsp salt
pepper to taste
1 bunch Swiss chard, about 3/4 lb, leaves chopped coarsely, stems diced
2 c white beans
2 cloves garlic, sliced
1-2 teaspoons finely chopped sundried tomatoes
1 teaspoon capers, coarsely chopped
lots of olive oil

Sprinkle eggplant slices with salt and let sit. Mix breadcrumbs with salt, pepper, and herbs. Pat eggplant slices dry, and then dredge in breadcrumbs to coat each side. Cook in olive oil over medium heat, 1-2 minutes per side, until just cooked through and lightly golden. Remove to a plate and set aside.

Wipe any remaining breadcrumbs out of the pan and add some more olive oil. Raise the heat to medium-high and toss in the diced chard stems. Cook 4-5 minutes, until just tender, then add beans and garlic slivers. Cook 2-3 minutes, until beans are warmed through and chard is mostly cooked, then add chard leaves and stir. Cover, checking and stirring every few minutes until the leaves are cooked to your liking.

Serve eggplant slices over the bean/chard mixture, and garnish with the capers and sundried tomatoes.

Dinner with Friends

M. & R. came over for dinner tonight, and I took the opportunity to try my hand at a recipe from A Platter of Figs, the wonderful cookbook my wonderful cousin gave me for Christmas. The recipes are organized seasonally, and into menus. “Yellow Hunger,” from the Summer section, seemed like a good idea given the plethora of summer squash I got this week. Supplemented with some heirloom tomatoes (Mexican imports–am I going to get kicked out of the CSA?) and a piece of halibut that the fishmonger at Agata & Valentina basically cut directly off the fish for me, we had a really lovely meal.

The mise en place:

(I only pretend to know what that means)

The fish was seasoned with salt & pepper, drizzled with olive oil, and then rubbed with a mixture of cumin, fennel, coriander, clove, turmeric, and cayenne. It sat for a while as I put together a raita and the squash salad.

And here’s the finished product, sprinkled with windowbox mint:

(do real food bloggers take pictures of the cooking process, too? I’m still learning these things.)

Anything that lets me use the mandolin is fine with me, and zeppelin squash fits the bill:

Mandolined squash, dressed lightly with lemon juice and olive oil and tossed together with shaved ricotta salata.

Thankfully, M. was on hand to inform me that I needed to photograph my plate, too:

The raita was especially good: yogurt, ginger, mustard & cumin seeds, some poblano pepper… I think that was it.

M. also had the smarts to bring ice cream for dessert, and she managed to find organic sugar cones. I won’t tell you how many cones the three of us polished off.

Dinner was accompanied by a bottle of wine and some incredibly nerdy and delightful conversation about the finer points of grammar (I believe I even pulled out my illustrated Elements of Style). Then Mowgs and I walked the Ws (note: not the W’s) to the subway in the lovely, cool, post-ridiculous-thunderstorm evening.