Back in the Saddle

I was fully planning on trying a new recipe with the bok choy this week. I found one that sounded really good, made with fermented black beans. But it turns out I don’t know where to find fermented black beans. (That is not strictly true. I am quite sure that Kalustyan’s carries multiple varieties, but I didn’t have time to get there this week.) In any case, it turned out to be just as easy to riff on a familiar recipe I know from Deborah Madison. And as I’m re-learning my CSA habits after a 9-month break, it’s probably not such a bad thing to start off with something familiar.

Start with a pound and a half of bok choy.

Give that a good rinse, and while it’s drying, get some walnuts and saute them in walnut oil until they’re just golden.

Chop them up with a little salt and some crushed red pepper.

Then, since this is stir-frying, get everything else ready. Mince up some ginger. Chop up some garlic & garlic scapes. Cut the stems of the bok choy into 1-inch pieces. Stir a bit of cornstarch into a mix of soy sauce & water. 

Heat up the wok again, add a little more oil, and toss in the ginger and the garlic (but not yet the garlic scapes) and stir fry for a minute. Add the bok choy stems and the chopped up garlic scapes, plus a little salt, and keep stir frying until the veggies start to get tender.

Slice the bok choy leaves into thick ribbons, and add them to the mix with a little more salt. Cook another couple of minutes, just until the leaves are getting shiny & wilted. Then add the soy sauce/cornstarch/water mix. Keep stirring until it thickens up, then take it off the heat. Top with the toasted nuts and serve over rice.

Funny story about this recipe: the first time I made the original version of it, it was late June, and A. and I were living in a charming railroad apartment on 1st Avenue. Summer had very suddenly kicked in, and we’d finally bought air conditioners to put in the windows. We’d also bought tickets to see Charlie’s Angels, and in the brief window of time between hauling the A/C units home and getting back to 86th Street for the movie, we installed the damn things and made dinner in our no-longer-sweltering kitchen. But we didn’t have time to eat dinner, so we packed it up in tupperware and took it to the movies with us. I highly recommend the make-your-own-dinner-theatre technique. 

Stir-Fried Bok Choy with Walnuts

adapted from Deborah Madison

serves 2-3

1 1/2 lbs bok choy

3 Tbsp walnuts

1/4 tsp crushed red pepper

2 Tbsp minced ginger

2 cloves garlic, finely chopped

1 garlic scape, chopped

1 tsp cornstarch

3 Tbsp water

2 Tbsp soy sauce

walnut oil

salt

Heat a wok over medium heat, with 2 teaspoons of walnut oil. Add the walnuts, and stir fry until they start to color. Remove them from the wok, chop them up with the red pepper and a little salt, and set aside.

Separate the leaves and stems of the bok choy. Cut each pile into 1-inch pieces. Stir together the cornstarch, water, and soy sauce. 

Turn the wok to high heat, add another 2 tablespoons of oil, and when it’s hot, add the ginger and garlic cloves. Stir for a minute, careful not to burn anything, and then add the bok choy stems and garlic scapes with a little salt. Stir for a few minutes, until they start to get tender, then add the leaves and a little more salt. Keep stirring until the leaves are shiny & wilted. Add the liquid and cook until it thickens. 

Remove from the heat and toss in the nuts. Serve over rice.

Spicy Hippie Cabbage

Remember last summer when I finally found a cabbage recipe to get excited about? (A non-cole slaw recipe, I mean.) Well, we made that the other week, and it was pretty awesome. And then I got another head of cabbage, and no longer had any spare oranges in my fridge, so I had to branch out. After rooting around in my stash of cookbooks, I settled on a recipe for Cabbage with Indian Spices from the hippiest book I own*, Farmer John’s Cookbook: The Real Dirt on Vegetables (aka, the one with the dude in an orange feather boa on the cover). I used the heirloom variety we got, Early Jersey Wakefield, but any kind will do. 

 

In addition to a pound of cabbage, you’ll need quite a lot of onions, a big tomato, fresh ginger, turmeric, cayenne, and coriander. Chop the onion and saute in vegetable oil over medium-high heat, with some minced ginger and a hot pepper if it suits your tastes. I used dried, because that’s what I had, but in any case you want it whole (or halved lengthwise if it’s fresh), not chopped up. Cook until the onion starts to brown, 15-20 minutes.

 

Then in goes the shredded cabbage, the spices, and a few tablespoons of water. Stir it up, and simmer, covered, about 10 minutes.

 

Then the tomato, chopped (and peeled, if you have more patience than I do), and a little salt. Cook another 5 or 10 minutes.

 

Serve over rice, after removing the hot pepper. Ideally basmati rice. My cabinets usually have a very diverse selection of rice, but this day, basmati wasn’t available, so I did long-grain white rice cooked with a bay leaf and called it a day. A most delicious day, at that.

 

*That is a lie. The hippiest book I own is Rise Up Singing: The Group Singing Songbook.

A Yankee Looks South

I am really, really not southern. I was raised in the suburbs of Philadelphia by parents who had grown up further north along the eastern seaboard. Okra was not a part of my vocabulary, let alone my diet. Nonetheless, when the optional okra was consistently all gone by the time I arrived at Lenox Hill to collect my share, I was a little miffed. The farmer’s note about the okra was that they used to grow it in large quantities, and it always ended up in the swap box, so they stopped. But now okra seemed to be experiencing a revival of sorts, because the smallish bag they sent (“take it if you like”) was disappearing immediately, thwarting some of our dinner plans. Eventually, the farmer got hip to the situation and changed the instructions to “take it if you like–no more than 3 pieces.” Which I did. 

J. is a genuine southerner (by blood, and now also by residence). Her advice, when I asked what to do with okra, was to make gumbo. So after 2 weeks of purposely choosing very large pieces, I had just enough to make a variation on Paula Deen’s gumbo, her recommended starting place. 

According to J., in order to count as gumbo, the dish must have sausage, shrimp, okra, and onions. The roux is important, too, but those ingredients are the bare minimum. So I raided my fridge & freezer, bought a few extra things at the Italian market, and did my best. Personally, I’m very happy with the results, though I’ve yet to share them with a known gumbo authority, so a real verdict is still to come.

First, I browned some sliced andouille sausage in vegetable oil. 

After removing the meat to a plate, I added some lard to the remaining oil, and some flour, and stirred over low heat until the roux was nicely browned. I was a little afraid that I was burning it, but it turned out ok.

The instructions are to let the roux cool before continuing, and while I don’t entirely understand why that’s necessary, I followed Ms. Deen’s advice. I let it sit while I chopped some vegetables, and then turned back on the heat and added the rest of the lard, an onion, a lot of minced garlic, a bell pepper, and a stash of chopped celery I had in the freezer. 

Then some Worcestershire sauce (I won’t tell you how long that bottle has been hiding in my kitchen), a big handful of chopped parsley, and some crushed red pepper, because a little spice sounded like a good idea. (C. is slowly influencing my cooking, even when she’s not in the kitchen.)

That was followed by four cups of vegetable stock (brought to a simmer in a separate pot), and the sausage. I brought the gumbo to a boil, then let it cook, covered, for about 45 minutes. I took that time to run out and get shrimp and white rice.

Then I added the chopped tomato and sliced okra. Next time I will probably slice the okra thinner, in addition to seeking out smaller pieces. This simmered for another hour, which was plenty of time to make the rice, and watch an episode of True Blood to get myself in a southern mood.

I decided that rather than cook the shrimp separately, I’d add it at this point, and cover for another minute or two–just long enough for it to cook through. Then it was just a matter of adding the chopped scallions (and theoretically some more parsley if I hadn’t used up my entire stash already).

Serve in soup bowls, with a big spoonful of white rice.

As I said, I declared this a success. It does make me wonder, though, why so much of southern cuisine involves dishes that must simmer or braise for hours and hours. I would think that a climate that allows for a very long growing season and sweltering summers would drive people to a raw foods diet, just to keep the kitchen as cool as possible. Not that I’m complaining about the existence of gumbo, mind you. 

Yankee Gumbo
adapted from Paula Deen

1/4 c vegetable oil
12 oz andouille sausage, sliced into 1/4″ rounds
1/2 c flour
5 tablespoons lard
1 large onion, chopped
8 cloves garlic, minced
1 bell pepper, seeded and chopped
1 stalk celery, chopped
1/4 c Worcestershire sauce
1/4 bunch Italian parsley, chopped
1/2 tsp crushed red pepper (optional)
4 c vegetable stock, simmering
2 medium tomatoes, chopped (about 12 oz)
2 c okra, sliced 1/4″-1/2″ thick
1/2 pound small shrimp, cleaned
4 scallions, sliced

Heat the vegetable oil in a big heavy-bottomed pot (or Dutch oven) over medium heat. Add the sausage rounds and cook until they’re lightly browned. Remove to a plate and turn the heat to low.

Add 2 Tbsp of the lard, and the flour, and cook for 8-10 minutes, stirring constantly, until you have a deep brown roux.

Add the remaining lard, the onion, garlic, bell pepper, and celery. Cook 10 more minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the Worcestershire sauce, parsley, and red pepper. Cook 10 more minutes. Add the stock and the cooked sausage. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat & cover, simmering for 45 minutes.

Add the tomatoes and okra, and cook covered for 1 hour.

Add the shrimp, stir, and cook 1-2 minutes, until the shrimp are cooked through. Turn off the heat and stir in the scallions. Serve with long-grain white rice.

Tamarind

The last time I was at Kalustyan’s, I bought myself a little container of tamarind paste. Or possibly tamarind concentrate. Or extract, maybe. I had no idea what I was going to do with it–and apparently no idea what was actually inside the little plastic tub–though I had definitely flagged a few recipes that were likely suspects. It also shows up a lot on the menu of one of my favorite take-out joints, Cafe Mingala. And mostly it just seemed like a good idea. But then it sat in my fridge, unopened, for ages, while I got distracted.

Ottolenghi to the rescue! I stumbled across an older post on his blog, a recipe for swiss chard, chickpea and tamarind stew. Score!

Like many recipes from everyone’s favorite Cordon Bleu-trained London-based Israeli chef, there are some unusual ingredient combinations. And it’s not a “let’s throw everything in a pot and see what happens” kind of stew, either. I suspect that it could work with that technique (one of my favorites) but I decided for this maiden voyage, I’d stick to the playbook. Mostly.

So I blanched and drained some Swiss chard.

And I sauteed some onions with caraway seeds.

I may have forgotten to add the tomato paste to cook before the chickpeas, canned tomatoes, and spices, but I don’t think any serious harm was done. I also realized that whatever the form of the tamarind in my fridge it was not the same as what Ottolenghi is asking for. Mine is thickly runny, a bit like pomegranate molasses. But after searching around online a little, I made a somewhat-educated guess and swapped in about 2 teaspoons of the concentrate for the 4 tablespoons of watered down pulp.

And then I let it simmer while I made some rice (short grain, like I was told to do).

To serve, spoon the stew over the rice and top with a big spoonful of Greek yogurt, a drizzle of good olive oil, and a pile of chopped cilantro.

It is rather tart (thanks to the tomatoes and the tamarind) but with a good amount of sweetness, and then the occasional zip of a caraway seed. And it is delicious. I should probably find some other recipes that call for tamarind, because I have a lot of it now, but I might just wind up making this weekly until it’s all gone.

Rice Cake

I am becoming a little obsessed with Yotam Ottolenghi. This is one of three (3) posts I have saved as drafts that come from his recipes. And I don’t even have his cookbook yet, because the US edition doesn’t pub until April and the UK one was out of stock at Christmas. (It ought to arrive soon, though–thanks to my lovely cousin Kate.) But what I do have is his column in the Guardian in my Google reader, which is how I have discovered things like this beetroot saffron rice upside-down cake.

Let me just come out and say that I had no idea how this was going to go. The flavor combinations seemed pretty safe, but the actual construction of the thing looked like it might turn into a small disaster in my kitchen. But I had these beets lying around. Beets can lie around in the fridge practically forever and still be ok, but not literally forever. I had to use them eventually and this was the first recipe that caught my eye.

First step, sautee some spinach with a little garlic, just until it’s wilty. Then transfer it to a colander while you get the other pieces together.

Other pieces being, for one, rice. It needs to be parboiled, strained, and then seasoned with salt, pepper, and lemon zest.

Then you deal with the beets. They should be peeled and sliced kind of thick. Sear them in the pan with a butter/oil mix, but don’t flip them.

Layer on top some rice, some water, the spinach, and the rest of the rice. Stick a lid on it and cook for a while, before adding some more water, and also some boiling water that was used to bloom (as they say) a pinch of saffron.

Lower the heat and cook, tightly covered, for another 45 minutes. Then comes the tricky part: flipping this “cake” onto a plate. You will want a plate that is at least 2 inches bigger in diameter than your pan. Put the plate over the pan, upside down, palm the plate, and flip the pan over, squeezing together as you do so you don’t wind up with rice and spinach all over the floor.

Thankfully, that did not happen to me, but what did happen was some of the beets stuck to the pan, because my Calphalon was getting old. Never fear, though: Calphalon has what is possibly the best warranty policy in the entire world. Ship them your old pot, with the flaking teflon that never gets properly clean anymore and that certainly doesn’t act as non-stick, and they will send you a BRAND NEW POT. It’s like magic. I swear I’m not being paid to say that.

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.

Chiles Rellenos

I was intending to stuff these chiles rellenos with polenta. But it turns out I haven’t made anything with corn meal in a while, and that it can go bad if your canister is not airtight and possibly moisture gets in. But let’s not dwell on that. Instead, let’s look at some pictures of things on fire:

The first step in chiles rellenos is to char the skins of the ancho peppers. It should be noted that I did not burn a single finger in the process–I didn’t even singe my hair.

Then while those peppers were sitting in a covered bowl (the better to remove the charred skins), I chopped up a jalapeno. I read somewhere that a rough gauge of the heat of a pepper is the cracks in the skin–more cracks means more heat. I don’t remotely know if this is true, but I like the sound of it.

So I diced up one of those (THAT is where I burned my fingers), and some scallions, cooked for a few minutes in olive oil, and then added in some cooked black beans and fresh cilantro. Then that whole mess gets mixed into a pot of rice, with some cheese grated in.

And then, look! The roasted peppers! Here they are without their skins. They just need to be split open, and have as much of seeds & ribs removed as possible.

Then I stuffed some of the rice/beans mixture into the peppers, poured some tomatillo sauce I made back when we got tomatillos the last time and had stashed in the freezer. Set them back into the skillet I cooked the beans in, and stuck it in the oven just until everything is hot. (Though I suppose if you prefer, you could heat them through and THEN smother in salsa.)

It should be noted that my fingers were still burning when I fell asleep last night. Serves me right for being too lazy/stubborn to wear rubber gloves when cutting up hot peppers.

Chiles Rellenos
6-8 ancho chiles
1 jalapeno
4 scallions
2 Tbsp olive oil
salt
2 c. cooked black beans (or 1 can, rinsed & drained)
1/4 c. cilantro, chopped
1 c. rice, cooked according to instructions
sharp cheese of your choice, grated (I used zamorano, but cheddar or jack would be fine)
salsa of your choice

Char the anchos over an open flame (your gas burner will work perfectly) until they are black all around. Stick them in a bowl and cover it with a plate for 15 minutes. Turn the oven to 350F.

Meanwhile, mince the jalapeno and cut up the scallions. Heat an oven-proof skillet over medium heat, and saute the veggies in olive oil with a little salt, for a few minutes. Then add the black beans and cook until heated through. Mix in the cilantro and turn off the heat. Then mix all that into the rice, and grate in as much cheese as you like.

Remove the charred skin from the peppers, slit them open on one side, and remove the seeds and membranes as best you can without letting the pepper fall to pieces. Stuff each one to overflowing with the rice & beans mixture. Put them back in the skillet and stick it in the oven for 10 minutes or so, until everything is heated through. You can pour the salsa on top before or after the stint in the oven, whichever you prefer. Top with more cheese and fresh cilantro if you like.

Cooking Without a Net

There are a few meals in my repertoire where I don’t measure, I don’t weigh, I don’t look at a recipe, I just know it’s going to come out right. I’m not talking about “let’s see what leftovers will go well tossed in a salad” kind of meals, I mean legitimate COOKING.

Well, “a few” might be an exaggeration. One, at least. And that one is risotto. And it’s what I made this week when J. came over for dinner. The vegetables of choice were acorn squash and leeks (though I was a little sad that I’d settled on that combination before seeing this recipe for corn pudding in acorn squash; maybe next week).

First, to roast the cubed squash, with some summer savory (only a little bit left now…)

And then to wash the damn leeks. I do like leeks very much, but boy oh boy, is it a pain in the ass to get all that dirt off them.

Butter + olive oil in a pan, + leeks + salt + more fresh herbs.

Add the roasted squash

Then a couple of handfuls of arborio rice

Pour in a glass of white wine, and when it’s cooked off, start adding ladles full of simmering chicken stock (this is my not-homemade stock of choice when I don’t have any saved in the freezer) until the rice is cooked through.

Finish off with ground pepper and a lot of grated parmesan.

A never fail recipe that takes a fair amount of attention but not a lot of effort, and not nearly as much time as some people think.