Pie for Dinner

I would like to pretend that this mushroom cabbage galette from Deborah Madison is some kind of health food. I mean, it’s cabbage! And mushrooms are good for you! And you can totally use low-fat sour cream and even I will not scoff. But let’s not kid ourselves. Galette = pie. Plus, Smitten Kitchen has made this before, and you know how she feels about healthy food. And there’s the bit at the end where you dump a load of melted butter on top of everything. So let’s abandon these virtuous fantasies and get with the cooking.

Start with the dough–I went with a yeasted tart dough (much simpler than it sounds), though DM suggests an alternative galette dough that’s basically just pie crust. 

While it rises (or chills, depending on what kind you’re making), saute a diced onion and some sliced shiitake mushrooms, with thyme, tarragon, & dill in a good amount of butter. 

When they’re soft, add a big pile of thinly sliced cabbage, a bit of salt, and a half cup of water. Cook, covered, until the cabbage is tender.

At this point, the recipe instructs you to add water and then raise the heat to cook it all off, ending with a relatively dry pan of veggies. I would recommend NOT adding any more water–just cook off whatever is left in the pan when you take the lid off. Turn off the heat, then stir in a pile of chopped parsley, a chopped hard-boiled egg, and some sour cream. Splash in a little vinegar (white wine is fine if you don’t have tarragon, as called for) and season with & salt and pepper.

Set the oven to 400F. By this time, your dough should be properly risen or chilled. Roll it out into a big, thin circle. Another instruction I don’t entirely agree with: place the rolled-out dough on the BACK of a sheet pan. Then pile the filling into the center, in a circle about 7 or 8 inches across, and fold the edges of the dough up over it. Brush the whole thing with a couple tablespoons of melted butter and bake for 25-30 minutes. 

The reason I would suggest putting the galette on the normal side of a sheet pan can be seen above. If you are not 100% expert at rolling out dough without holes; if you were not 100% thorough in making sure all the water was cooked out of the filling; and if you are maybe a bit sloppy in brushing on the melted butter: all of these are reasons to want a pan with sides. But guess what? I know who cleans the oven.

And your galette will not suffer from it, even if your oven does.

The galette gets served with horseradish sauce. You can probably buy some, or make it yourself with a mixture of sour cream, grated horseradish, chives, some sugar, and a tiny bit of salt & white wine vinegar. 

Soup and Salad

The year 2010 was one big crescendo* for me. Very gradually, but steadily, the year improved, from starting in a Very Bad Place (not literally–January 1st was spent in Colorado with my nephew E. and not much can top that) to ending in a very happy one, with many small and large steps along the way to get me there. I know a lot of people were happy to see the end of this past year, and while I’m glad to be starting the new one, I look back on 2010 very fondly. November and December in particular were decadent months to say the least. There was a very quick trip to Zurich, a very grand 30th birthday party, a wonderful Thanksgiving, a series of holiday parties, friends visiting, lots of cookies, actual Christmas, and New Year’s. All of which left me with the feeling that I could really use another detox week. And not just because I have a perpetual craving for carrot-ginger dressing and miso soup.

It’s not destined to happen this week, though. I’ve had dinner at Sushi Yasuda with P., dinner at Momofuku Ssam Bar with S. (and, yes, dessert at Milk Bar), and there’s another round of cook club coming next weekend. So until I can find 7 eventless days in a row, I will be grateful that my fellow French Fridays bloggers voted to start 2011 with Dorie’s Paris Mushroom Soup. It is simple, savory, delicious, and (importantly) not overly rich.

After sauteing some onions and garlic in a small (no, really) amount of butter, add some sliced mushrooms, and then fresh herbs and chicken broth. Simmer for, oh, a while.

The tricky part is the pureeing. I have found that my food mill is not the miracle “stop spattering hot soup all over my kitchen” tool I was hoping it would be, unless you’re working with something that basically falls apart on its own, like winter squash. So I pulled out the blender, doing an eensy bit at a time, and holding down the lid with a tea towel, which makes all the difference in the world.

And then while the soup was heating back up, I assembled the “salad” portion of the meal, which conveniently goes in the same bowl. A bit more sliced mushrooms, some chopped scallions, chives, and parsley, and then pour the soup right on top. (I did not go for the optional creme fraiche, on account of I didn’t have any and I’m pretending to inch away from holiday decadence.)

The soup is delicious, if not especially pretty. It should not come as a surprise that the photo accompanying the recipe is of the ingredients, not of the finished product.

*I’ve been sneaking musical terms into my everyday speech lately. Not sure exactly why. I’ve described my rock-climbing sessions as a sforzando, though I’m hoping as my stamina improves, that’ll shift to a decrescendo.

‘Shrooms

This is a giant puffball, in situ in a graveyard:

This is not actually one you’d want to eat. See the impressions where somebody touched it? That means it’s soft, and they’re only good when they’re solid, and white all the way through. This one is about the size of a baby’s head (not sure why that’s my point of reference…), but they can get as big as a basketball. And they make for very good eats.

If you are wondering how I came to possess this mycological knowledge, it is courtesy of a guided walk I took with the Mycological Society of New York. I’m not really a mushroom fanatic (in fact, I only knew about this walk through an organization called Our Goods, which sponsors Trade School–I’ll have to evangelize about that at a later date) but given the opportunity to forage for my own dinner, and at the same time go for a leisurely walk through a beautiful cemetery on a pristine autumn day… Well, all I can say is that it was well worth almost an hour on the 4 train for the opportunity.

Not all of the mushrooms we gathered were edible. This kind is sometimes used in jewelry making:

This kind you can eat, but then you ABSOLUTELY cannot ingest any alcohol for the next two days:

And this kind is good for stocks (they pretty much dissolve in water) but also can be used to make ink:

But back to the puffball. It reminds me of nothing so much as the old Nintendo character Kirby, except that through a little googling I’ve learned that he was pink. We only had a Gameboy, old enough to be black & white, so it never occurred to me that he might not be white. Kirby would also probably not be very good dipped in egg and breadcrumbs, and pan fried in olive oil, which is how M. and I prepared these thick slices of puffball. Like vegetarian schnitzel.

Dinner also consisted of roasted beets with shaved ricotta salata, a little Caprese salad, and grilled Treviso radicchio.

And then for dessert, poached pears with star anise, vanilla, and lemon zest.

Yes, I Stir Fry

Last year, Stoneledge provided us with a sort of ridiculous amount of cabbage. Napa cabbage, bok choy, plain old green cabbage, an heirloom variety called Early Jersey Wakefield… So you’d think that I’d have at least a half-dozen solid, go-to recipes up my sleeve by now.  And yet, not so much. I have a favorite classic cole slaw, and there’s the black bean tacos with slaw, which is very good. But I am shocked to see that I have not ONE recipe for bok choy called out from last summer. Which just meant that, when this week’s head showed up, I had to hunt around for something to do with it (other than Deborah Madison’s stir fry with peanuts, an old favorite). Luckily, perusing the web for recipes is what I do best. And what I came up with was Ginger-Sesame Chicken with Bok Choy and Mushrooms from Food & Wine.

I had picked up some chicken at Whole Foods on a hunch that it would come in handy, and then I stopped by the mushroom stand at the Union Square greenmarket and got some oyster mushrooms.  I skipped the bell pepper, and everything else was just lying around.

First, mix together the sauce, one of those ubiquitous, slightly-different-than-all-the-others blends of soy sauce, rice vinegar, sesame oil, sugar, and a few other ingredients. I replaced the sherry with mirin and used probably more than a half teaspoon of crushed red pepper (why don’t recipes ever call for “1 dried red pepper, crushed”? I buy them whole, and I’m never entirely sure how one pepper translates into teaspoons).

Meanwhile, everything gets chopped up.  It turns out that oyster mushrooms do not lose as much liquid when they’re cooked as something like a portobello.  Instead, they brown very nicely and get sort of a meaty texture. 

Then the chunks of chicken get stir-fried, too, just until browned.

And at last, the bok choy.  It is wise to cook the stems and the leaves separately.  Cut them apart from each other, chop the stems into bite-sized pieces and the leaves into ribbons.  Cook the thicker stems for a few minutes and then toss in the leaves just at the end.

Much like any stir fry, it is helpful to have all your ingredients chopped and measured ahead of time. Otherwise you’re going to end up with burnt garlic, and nobody likes that, no matter how much minced ginger it gets mixed with (before tossing back in the chicken, mushrooms, and bok choy). Finally, pour in the sauce, bring to a simmer, and cook just until it starts to thicken.

Serve over rice, and eat while basking in the sun in Bryant Park, reading Anthony Bourdain’s new book.

Ok, that last part is not strictly necessary.  But this DOES make an excellent leftovers-for-lunch-at-work meal.  And the book is great.  My favorite line so far, on the benefits of avoiding “writers’ bars”:

“As much as I admire the work of good writers, I’ve found that hanging out with more than one of them at a time is about as much fun as being thrown into a cage full of hungry but toothless civet cats.”

Touché, Mr. Bourdain.

Dirt Candy

There is this great restaurant down in the East Village called Dirt Candy. The chef’s philosophy is something along the lines that vegetables are awesome and deserve place of pride on the dinner plate. And as much as I love a good burger, I tend to agree. I wish I had access to a proper garden of my own so I could grow dirt candy for myself. But all I have is my window box full of herbs, which magically survived the incredibly snowy winter we had this year. (And, of course, my CSA, which doesn’t start up again until June.)

The harvesting, though, is only part of the joy of growing vegetables. The other part is the digging in the dirt. Which is how I spent the day yesterday, volunteering through New York Cares at the Padre Plaza Success Garden in the South Bronx. They were preparing a section of the park to add more raised garden beds, so we turned over top soil, and pulled out roots, and made a valiant effort to remove a tree stump. (The stump won the battle, but not the war.)

And then I swung by the greenmarket and picked up some dirt candy of my own, for dinner. I had bought some leeks earlier in the week (and the generous vendor gave me a bunch of lavender for free, prompting the 4th use of my ice cream maker this month–honey lavender ice cream). To that, I added some mushrooms, eggs, and honey chevre. And when I got everything home, after taking a 2 hour nap, it turned out I was making quiche. The leek/mushroom combination seemed especially apt, given that both are notorious for needing a lot of cleaning, because the same could be said for me after my day of playing in the dirt volunteering.

This is my sister’s olive oil crust (made with thyme from my window box). I am hit or miss at rolling out pie crusts, so this is a very useful recipe to have.

(Note to self: don’t leave your cell phone on the counter when making something that involves flour.)

These are the aforementioned leeks.

The traditional method of preparing leeks involves slicing down the length of the stalk, almost to the root, washing carefully in a tub of water, and then slicing up. I prefer cleaning them a la Hesser: slice them up first, and THEN wash them (a salad spinner is wonderfully useful for this).

Then the leeks go in a skillet with a chunk of butter and some salt.

Slice up the mushrooms:

and add them to the skillet (with maybe some more butter…)

Meanwhile, scramble together 5 eggs and a cup-ish of milk. Mix the sauteed veggies in (a little at a time–don’t want to cook the eggs before they even get in the oven) and some crumbled up chevre.

Bake at 375F for, oh, 45 minutes or so. Until the middle is cooked.

My new camera is WAY better than the old one (thanks, mom!) but even so, I can’t make this quiche look pretty. It is delicious, so it has that going for it, but you’ll just have to take my word for it.

Leek and Mushroom Quiche
crust:
1 1/4 c. flour (I used whole wheat pastry)
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 c. (or more) of olive oil
1/2-1 tsp fresh herbs, chopped (I used thyme)
2-4 Tbsp water

filling:
1 bunch leeks
1/2 lb mushrooms (criminis work great)
2 Tbsp butter
5 eggs
1 c. milk
2 oz. goat cheese (I used the honey chevre from Patches of Star Dairy)
salt & pepper

Pre-heat the oven to 375F.
Mix the crust ingredients together in a small bowl with a fork, until they are just fully combined. Use only as much water as you need. Press the dough into a 9″ pie crust, going as far up the sides as you can.
Clean & slice the leeks in whatever way you like. Heat a pan over medium heat and add 1 Tbsp butter. When it’s melted, add the leeks and salt and saute until they are starting to color. Meanwhile clean and slice the mushrooms. Add them to the pan, with another Tbsp of butter. Cook just until the mushrooms have lost that raw look.
Let the veggies cool while you scramble together the eggs and the milk. Mix them in gradually, and then add the goat cheese, in chunks. Season with a little more salt and some fresh ground pepper. Pour the whole mess into the pie crust and stick it in the oven. Cook for 40-60 minutes, until the center is fully cooked.