Accessories are important: rhubarb baked with maple syrup

Ah, ragazzi, the last spring/early summer fruit fest continues.  This time, the fruit that is really a vegetable (rhubarb), makes one of its periodic appearances here.   In the role of the co-star who steals the show.

Readers of this blog know of Annalena's fondness for the big red and green stems of rhubarb.  She's even ventured to try the leaves, but recommends that you not do that, especially if you are prone to things like kidney stones, gout, and so forth.  The oxalic acid in the leaves has been said to be toxic.  Truth to be told, it will give you a whopper of a belly ache, but Annalena didn't die, and she has seen animals in zoos, eating the leaves as if they were plain old salad.  But in any event, if you have leaves on your stalks, Annalena suggests that you get rid of them as well as you can.

It is fascinating to Annalena that we know, by heart, many of the different apple varieties. You can probably name ten or so without any trouble.  BUT... move to something like peaches, or strawberries... or rhubarb, and try to give different names.  Can't huh?  Well, for rhubarb, neither can Annalena.  Yet, when you see the stalks, you will notice, immediately, that there are differences in color, and in thickness, etc, which will tell you, as a careful shopper, that all rhubarb is not the same.  There is early rhubarb, late rhubarb, and in fact, Annalena learned recently that the stuff will grow all the way through mid fall.  The reason we don't see much of it after about the end of June is two fold. First, there are so many other fruits available that people lose their interest in a plant that takes some love.  Not many of us can eat rhubarb raw, and out of hand, the way we eat cherries, or plums, and so forth.  Hence, many farmers simply compost it.  Add to that the fact that while rhubarb grows in the heat, it doesn't LIKE the heat.  So, ragazzi, the stalks are tough and stringy, sort of like Annalena (well, tough anyway). Ultimately, if you're cooking it (which you are, if it's rhubarb), all it means is a little extra time, but you do have to work through peeling back some of the toughness.

Well, here is a recipe, also out of the Red Jacket book Annalena  has spoken of, that is easy and gives you something fun to work with.  This is so good, that even though it is spoken of, in the recipe, as an addition to a salad, Annalena wants you to move beyond the salad they give (watercress and goat cheese), and do other things with this.  You will want to.  And you'll have time.  Because....

Here's what you do.  You get your oven preheated to 450.  While that is happening, clean up a half pound of rhubarb.  When you've done so, slice it into segments about a half inch long.  You're looking for little "logs" ragazzi.  Have the stalk parallel to your body, and then make vertical cuts.  Put this in a bowl, with three tablespoons of maple syrup, and just a teaspoon of olive oil.  Toss it all together, and then dump it on a baking sheet.  Even it out into one layer, and put it in the oven, for about 7 minutes.

You're done.  Really, you are.  You now take this out of the oven and let it cool.  Completely.  If you touch the rhubarb now, in addition to burning yourself, you will cause it to fall into puree.  You don't want that.  At completely cool, it will retain it's shape, albeit in a softer form.  Pick it up carefully, and put it in a container to refrigerate it.

When Annalena tasted this as soon as it cooled, she thought of maple syrup baked sweet potatoes.  In her salad last night, however, it was reminiscent of sour cherries and Cape Gooseberries.  So, how do you like that?  The salad, by the way, was lettuce, treviso (a chicory), and a yogurt and honey viniagrette.  The dairy and sweetness seemed to really help accent the flavor profile of the rhubarb.  But Annalena feels she could eat this on its own.  Or mix it with strawberries.  Or perhaps puree it with strawberries into sorbet.  or... or... or....  And that's for you to fill in, ragazzi.  This will take you less than half an hour to make.  So make it, and make some magic.

Play with your fruit: olive oil strawberry jam cake

Ragazzi, the assiduous readers amongst you may be thinking  ANOTHER olive oil cake?  Well, yes.  See, Annalena is fascinated by the use of olive oil in baking.  Ultimately, it is something that makes sense.  You have all read about "buttery" olive oils, and in homes where butter is not much in use (like much of Southern Italy), the fat you use to make your baked goods, will be the fat you have. Before any of us were glints in our parents' eyes, and before our parents were glints in their parents' eyes, etc, that fat was lard.  Butter was not that common and it was expensive.  Now, you can get your butter at the store around the corner. Not so elsewhere. So, Annalena uses it to get in touch with her inner "something." 

Also, she got a new cookbook.  One of her favorite farms, Red Jacket Orchards, which only grows fruit (with the exception of rhubarb, which is a vegetable), has come out with a book called "Fruitful."  It is a beautiful book, and a labor of love.  Also - and Annalena warns those of you who may get the book  - there are errors in it, which can catch up even someone as experienced as Annalena - as she will explain later in this recipe.  Nonetheless, the book is so full of, well, "love," that you have to try it.  There are not many books that feature only fruit, and only fruit that the source of the book grows, so it is a treasure. 

This recipe will actually teach you how to make something that is good to have around:  jam.  Now, not jars and jars and jars of jam that you seal in boiled water, burning yourself, cursing, and swearing you'll never do it again.  No, ragazzi, but if you find yourself awash in fruit (as Annalena is these days), being able to make a jar or two of refrigerator jam, is not a bad thing.

Lets start by doing that.  You need a pound of strawberries (and read back to Annalena's most recent blog on strawberries to see about a "pound" of these berries).  Hull them, half them, and put them in a heavy duty pot with a cup plus of sugar (this is a judgement call: you will need at least a cup, probably a cup and a quarter and this year, given the rain, perhaps as much as a cup and a half) .  Squeeze half a lemon into this.  Then turn the heat to low, and keep your eye on the thing, for about twenty minutes.  Stir every few minutes.  If you see the thing beginning to bubble over, take it off the heat for a minute, then lower the heat, and continue to cook.  The berries will darken, the volume will drop, and in that 20 minutes:   you have about 1.5-2 cups of jam.  Chill it, and cap it in jars in the fridge, and use it up over the next couple of weeks, if it lasts that long.

Now, we move to the cake.  And here, ragazzi, Annalena shall be telling you how the recipe lets you down, for this is supposed to be a swirl cake.  Look below.  That is not a swirl, is it?  No, it is not.  It will still taste good, but if you want a swirl, Annalena shall tell you how to get it. 

You will need 2 large eggs, and an egg yolk.  Put them in a bowl with 3/4  cup of sugar, and the grated peel of a lemon.  Get the whisk attachment, and get to work, for five minutes. 

Now, when you see a recipe that calls upon you to whip egg yolks in the way you would whip whites, you are in the realm of chiffon cakes, and genoises.  These cakes will never rise much, and they will stale.  So keep that in mind.  

While this is working, mix a quarter of a cup of milk with the juice of half of that lemon, and a half cup of extra virgin olive oil.  You're making cake, so don't use that really peppery Tuscan oil that burns the back of your throat.  Use something that you feel is light and almost, well, buttery.  Once that is mixed,  in a separate bowl, combine 1.25 cups of all purpose flour, 3/4 teaspoon of baking powder, the same quantity of salt, and put it aside.  

Finally, melt 3/4 stick of unsalted butter (Lots of 3/4 in this one, huh?). 

Get your pan.  The recipe called for a springform, but Annalena thinks that if you're willing to serve it from the pan, any 8 inch pan will do.    Grease it.  Use the paper from the butter. 

By now, your egg and sugar mixture will have billowed into large, light yellow clouds.  Gently, pour the olive oil mixture in, and let it get incorporated.    Now the melted butter.    

Off the mixer, fold in the flour, in 2-3 portions.  Don't be guilty of overkill, but do make sure everything is incorporated evenly.  Then move it all to your pan. 

Ok, here's where we have the bad instructions, carini. The recipe calls for you to bake this cake for twenty minutes, then remove it from the oven.  At that point,  you spoon half a cup of  that jam you made over the thing and swirl it through.  When Annalena did this, the cake was already completely firm, and she was breaking the structure.  Hence, she suggests you do it at ten minutes (doing it immediately is not a good idea, as you need to let the cake take on SOME structure, or you will get a jam clafouti.  Not a bad thing, but not what you want). 

If you do wind up in a situation as Annalena did, just glom your jam on top of the cake, and put it back in the oven for 20 minutes.  And when it comes out, there  you are.  Perhaps not as pretty as a swirled cake, but it sure is gonna taste good.    And it's something different to serve to yourself and your friends.  And you'll have to because, as Annalena says, this will stale up pretty quickly. 

Look for more of these fruit based recipes, ragazzi.  Annalena is fascinated with this book. 

Doing it quick, doing it clean and using it all: stir fried chicken with broccoli: ALL of it

It's Saturday, ragazzi, and the weather is beautiful.  Also, the Guyman and   Annalena are off to a wedding later today.  Hence, we were looking for lunch that was quick.  And Guyman had his workout, so high protein was in order.  And... since Buddha only knows what we shall eat and drink at the wedding, there was an emphasis on health.   So with all of these in mind, Annalena pulled some boneless, skinless chicken breasts out of the freezer.

Boneless... skinless... chicken breasts.  One of the most tasteless of all things. They need work. And, Annalena was working on what the heck to do with them, until she read a column by one of her favorite cooks, Martha Rose Schulman. 

If you ever so wish, do a google of images of Ms. Schulman, and you'll see how she's gone from a hippy look, to an almost respectable, gorgeous older woman - the same way Joan Baez has.  We should all age that well, ragazzi.  Annalena knew her from her vegetarian cookbook days, and truth to be told, this recipe was vegetarian originally, using bean curd as the protein.   But... as Annalena has been preaching lately, learn when you can substitute. 

Ms. Schulman's column was on using THE WHOLE broccoli plant you buy.  Of this, Annalena is guilty.  She usually does not bother with the big stem:  she cuts the flowers, and tosses the stem.  BAD GIRL.  She knows it, but does it anyway.  So she read the column with interest.  For various reasons, the other recipes did not appeal to Annalena, but this one did.  And so, here it comes, ragazzi.  It is  very easy to make.  It is healthy.  It is gluten free, and if you choose to do it with the bean curd (or with gluten)  it is vegetarian.  You could probably do it with shrimp, or flank steak as well. Here we go.

You start with a pound and a half of protein.  As Annalena noted, hers were boneless, skinless chicken breasts.   She salted these the night before, and for lunch, cut the chicken into cubes.   Put this aside while you work on your broccoli.  Get a whole, large broccoli.  Cut away the flowers - the part you'd eat normally - and put them aside as well.  Now, get out your vegetable parer, and peel the thing.  It isn't hard on the big, long stem. On the branches , well, do the best you can.  And when you're done, cut everything into two inch long slices, about a quarter inch wide.  

You now have your stir fry pretty much prepared.   You do need some seasonings:  four cloves of garlic, diced, and then chop up an equivalent amount of fresh ginger.  You can mix those together, and if you are so inclined, add some red hot pepper flakes (recommended, as this is a bland dish without them).  If you like them, get a quarter cup of unsalted peanuts as well.  Finally, mix together two tablespoons of a soy sauce of some kind, half the amount of sherry, and a half cup of water.  (If you're off the sauce, add more soy sauce).  

Now, we're ready to cook.  Get two tabelspoons of vegetable oil really hot, in a big pan, one that has a lid.  When the oil is hot, add the chicken and move it around in the oil for a minute.  It won't cook completely, but don't worry about that.  Get as much of it out of the oil as you can, and add the garlic, the ginger, the red pepper if you are using it, and stir vigorously for 30 seconds.  Now add all of the broccoli, the peanuts if you are using them, and the sauce you made.  Stir everything together, and cook for a minute.  Now add the chicken.  Stir it all up together, and cover the pan, for another minute.  Then, take it off, and cook, stirring, for another minute.  If you have your doubts, taste a piece of the chicken, and a thick piece of broccoli to see if it's cooked to your preference. 

And you're done, except for testing the seasoning.  

Look at the plate below, ragazzi.  This is one, of three plates, Annalena made with the recipe above.  She served it on glass noodles, but you pick your starch, or don't eat any if, like Annalena's peng yu Ray, you're gettin naked this weekend in front of hundreds of afficianados.    But do make it.  If you vary it, bravo, and let us know.  

Next time around, Annalena shall be exploring a new cookbook, on one of her favorite topics:  fruit

Riffs: Braised chicken legs with mushrooms and garlic scapes

This is one for all you folks out there who like to improvise, because this is Annalena improvising, at her finest.  And ultimately, that is what cooking should be all about:  you learn the rules, and then you don't "break" them, nor do you "bend" them:  you just make them work for you.

As you develop your cooking skills, as Annalena preaches incessantly, you will learn that, even within baking, which is allegedly the most scientific of all forms, there is a whole lot of freedom.  Indeed, one could argue that good cooking, rather than being "classic" is "jazzy," because as jazz musicians will say , while there's freedom, it's within the rules.

When Annalena put this dish out on the table last night and told the Guyman she had made it up, he didn't quite believe her.  In fact, she didn't so much make it up, as put together things that she knew from other recipes, or other people.  Ultimately, that is what you have to do, if you are going to be known as a "good cook."  Annalena does NOT believe that it is easy to follow a recipe, as you all know from her ravings, but it is even harder to get comfortable with accepting that it's YOUR kitchen, and it's YOUR dish.  So, ragazzi, follow along with this, but if you decide that your riff is different, please go ahead.  And Annalena has some suggestions for you within this.

The recipe came out of one of those frantic weeks, where Annalena found herself without a plan for Thursday dinner.  This does not happen often, and in years gone by, that would have meant the Chinese take out menu came out of the drawer.  Not now.   Annalena has an inventory of what's in her freezer (more proof that she needs a life), but that was helpful.  She knew she had two complete chicken legs in there (drumstick and thighs).  That would be enough for dinner for she and the Guyman.  And then at the farmers market, she picked up a half pound of shitake mushrooms.  The other ingredients were around.   Here we go.

First, you salt your chicken legs the morning  of  (and this will work for more than two legs, ragazzi.  Just up the mushrooms).  When you're ready to cook, slice a half pound of shitakes (use whatever mushroom you like), into about 1/4 inch pieces.  With shitakes, you will be saving the stems for soup, or as Annalena does, chew on them, but don't cook with them.  Too tough.  Also,  you will need a cup of chicken stock, and a half cup of white wine , which you can change to more chicken stock.  Annalena also used a bunch of garlic scapes , which are all over the market now.  If you cannot find them, use something that is long, thin, and green:  scallions, or broccoli rabb, or in the later part of the summer, long beans, something like that.  Don't go for things like string beans (which are now called green beans, since the string has been bred out of them), or other vegetables that cook quickly.  You could use kale, or chard, or beet greens too.

Put a few tablespoons of olive oil in a big pan, and also, turn your oven to 400 degrees.  When your oil is hot, add your mushrooms, a teaspoon of salt, and a couple of sprigs of oregano.  If you don't have oregano, stick to something like marjoram, or even tarragon. This dish cooks too long for basil to work, and rosemary WILL work, but long cooking - like here - brings out the piney elements of rosemary.  So if you use it, make sure your stems are tender, and not woody.

Your mushrooms are going to soak up the oil so expect things to be dry. You can address this by adding about a quarter cup of water, which will also dissolve any mushroom browning parts. Now, add your scapes, or other green vegetable, and just toss it around for a couple of minutes.  Get this all out into a bowl, and add another two tablespoons of oil.

Annalena has said that chicken legs have a good deal of fat in them, so don't be surprised at what happens:  you will find yourself with more fat in the pan than you started with, as your chicken browns.  Brown the legs about five minutes to a side.  After they've cooked, add some more branches of oregano, and your mushroom and vegetable mix.  Pour in the stock and wine, cover the pan tightly, and put it in the oven.  Either do something else in the kitchen, go read a book,  mistranslate Italian, or something that's fun.  You need to leave this be for about thirty minutes.    Thirty will give you "just cooked," very juicy chicken.  Some folks do like it more cooked, and dryer.  If you're one of them, go for another ten minutes.

Now, protect your hands and take the pan out of the oven.  Using tongs, or something similar, get the legs to a plate, and use a slotted spoon to take out the veggies, and the herbs.  To the extent you can locate them, toss the herbs.

You'll have a lot of liquid in the bottom:  drippings from the chicken, the stock, the fat, etc.  You want to reduce this.  You can do it by turning the heat up high on your burner, and tipping the pan so that the liquids are on a side of the pan, just missing the flame.  You'll know if you're too close to the fire, trust Annalena on this.  Every now and then, flip the pan back to horizontal, and see how much it's reduced.  When it's down by about half, or even more, if you want to, add a third of a cup of creme fraiche, or heavy cream (heaven forbid), or take it off the heat and use yogurt, or sour cream.  The fat free stuff will break and be a disaster, so don't use it here.   Stir it all together, and pour it over the chicken and veggies.

You should try to use the scapes here.  Annalena saw them cooked by her gal pal Melissa and served over tuna.  That's where she got the idea. Chicken with mushrooms?  How many recipes for that have you seen?

So, carini, go give it a try.  This is one that takes more time than some of our other recipes, but ultimately, it's really, really easy, and really really good.

And let Annalena know about your riffs .

Is it or isn't it Cambodian? Let's call them South Asian wings

We can begin  today, ragazzi, with this question:  when a dish is labelled "Mexican" or "Cuban style"  or "French..." , etc, etc,  what is it about the dish that categorizes it as that ?  Yes, we have some items where we all have to agree that the adjective is fanciful:  "french" fries, for example.  Annlena thinks that everyone probably has some idea of when a characterization is real  and fair (rarely), and when it's fanciful.  For example:  if a dish has garlic and basil in it, is it necessarily Italian?  Of course not.  But we immediately think that, don't we?  If it has tarragon in it:  French, oui?  And we can go on.  Usually, we just make nothing of it, and ignore it.

With the recipe that follows, Annalena is intrigued by the fact that these were called "CAMBODIAN"   red curry wings.  Now, Annalena knows red curry, generally from Thai food.  Indeed, this recipe has many ingredients in it that she thinks of when she thinks of Thai recipes.  So what makes it "Cambodian," especially when the original recipe calls for some ingredients that as far as Annalena knows, are not even South Asian? If anyone out there has ideas, let's have them.

But in the meanwhile, knowing that we are eating the fattest part of the chicken, let's have some of these wings, which are very easys to do, once you get your shopping done.  There's a long list here, but let's get started.  And Annalena wishes to say that this recipe is doubled easily, in case you're having a party.  And these are cause to have one.

Let's start with the wings:  you need two pounds of what are sold as "party wings."  These are the first two joints of the wing, without the little pointy part.  You'll get  10-12 of them in two pounds, and that's enough for four healthy appetites, or six not so virile ones.    Put these aside, while we make our sauce.

We start with 2-3 tablespoons of chopped shallot.  If you are able to get "green" shallots, which are all over the Farmers Market now, use those.  A full sized shallot, or a bunch of the green ones, will give you the quantities you need.    Put this in a bowl, with four chopped cloves of garlic.  Now get two stalks of lemon grass, and peel it all the way down to the tender part , or as tender as it gets.  Chop that up too.    Now, mince two tablespoons of ginger.    Annalena's original recipe calls for two chiles de arbol, and that is indeed what she had in mind.  Essentially, any small dried chilis will do, but keep in mind that they vary in heat.  If you have them around, you have them for your heat sensitivity, and that's what you should use.  Again, if heat is not your thing, get the seeds out of the chili pods.    Break these up, and... yup, combine them with everything else.  So, too, with two tablespoons of soy sauce (tamari, shoyu, etc), and one of fish sauce.  Now add a teaspoon each of cumin and coriander, and half as much paprika, nutmeg (this is not sounding South Asian, now, is it?), and tumeric.  Put this all in a pan with one tablespoon of vegetable oil, and cook for about three minutes.   And... finally... a cup of coconut milk, low fat please, off the heat.

All of this goes into a blender and pureed to smooth.  It won't take long.    Take a few tablespoons of that, mix it with a tablespoon of salt, and put it on the wings.  Mix em up with your hands,  and refrigerate overnight, or for at least a few hours.  Also refrigerate the sauce you made.

When you're ready to cook, get a big pan out - nonstick is best here - and add two tablespoons of vegetable oil.  Swirl it around.  You don't need much because of the fat in the wings.  Heat this at medium, until a wing sizzles when you put it in.  When that happens (maybe four minutes, put all the wings in, lower the heat just a bit, and fry them until they are brown on all sides. You do this by turning them with tongs, every 3 minutes or so.  You may need up to ten minutes to do it.  Then put them on some paper towels to drain.

Add the sauce to the hot pan.  It will spatter, so be careful.  Then add your wings, cover the pan, lower the heat, and cook for 8-10 minutes.  At the end of that time, check the sauce:  is it nice and thick? If it is, you're done.  There really should be no "flow" to the sauce at all.  It should be thick, almost clotted.  If you're not there, let the thing cook for another 2-5 minutes, and then put the wings on a plate, and pour the sauce over them.

Annalena wants you to know that the sauce, when first made, will taste VERY hot.   At the end, however, there is just a bit of "burn," so you heat sissies should not worry.

She knows... she still owes you a nettles recipe.

As you like it: strawberry cheesecake, baked, or not

Ah, ragazzi.  First of, a very happy Father's Day to all of you.  Some of you may know that Annalena wishes she knew more of her father, and also of many other fathers, including St. Joseph.  At least in the case of her own, this is clearly not to be.  Nonetheless, she hopes that you all spent wonderful times with yours, and for those of you who are estranged or otherwise separated from you, she hears you, and while she will not minimize  your feelings by claiming to feel your pain,  she understands.


Annalena spent part of the day recovering from some serious back pain, deriving from she knows not what, and cooking, cooking, cooking.  Here is something she made:

While Annalena does not often brag, she feels that this is beautiful.  And she believes it can serve as a template for many cheesecakes in the future.  It came out of the NY Times, Annalena is going to simplify it a bit for you, and give you options.   Isn't she kind?

First, the one  you see has a cookie crust, and if you want the crust, you will be doing some baking; however, you can make this without the crust, with no problem, and then you will have no need to turn on the oven. 

This one is made with strawberries,  and strawberries are in full season right now.  Annalena and the Guyman  are eating them just about every day, and Annalena made her fourth quart of strawberry ice cream today as well.  But as you read the recipe, Annalena believes that you will see that this admits to many variations, as fruit comes into season.  She fully intends to make one with huckleberries in the fall, and you may see some others with cherries, and so forth.

Since the crust is optional, we shall start with the filling, which is the ultimate in simplicity.  You will need a pound of full fat cream cheese (use the one from Pennsylvania), and a half pound of a fresh, young goat cheese.  Annalena had a 10 ounce log.  What's two ounces of cheese among friends?    You will also need a pound of strawberries. 

TIME OUT.   When was the last time you saw strawberries sold by the pound?   Well, there are metrics on the internet to help you, however, a quart of strawberries (that is two points, topini), is a bit more than a pound:  about a pound and a half.  Again, no one will shoot you for using more strawberries than is called for here.  So get a quart of them. Get the little green things out,  then put them in a food processor (the original recipe suggests cutting them up.  No need), and add the cheeses, broken into small pieces.  Add 2/3 cup of sugar.  Turn the thing on until you have an even pink mass.  It will not be smooth.  We are getting to that. 

Now, you need liquid.  Half a cup of it.  The recipe calls for red wine, and that is one Annalena used. She things rose' would be better, and if you are not using wine at all, she suggests using another half cup of berries, and this time, mash them up. 

Put your liquid, or berries into a pot, and stir in one envelope of unflavored gelatin.  Let this sit for five minutes, and then heat it gently, until there is no grit left.  It will happen very quickly.  Then pour that into your food processor, and spin it in.  If you used the wine, or another liquid, you will get a very smooth mix.  If you used more berries, you will have a rougher finish.  Some like it rough.  What can one say?

At this point, if you are not using the crust, get an 8 inch spring form, make sure it's nice and firm, and perhaps line the outside with foil.  Pour in the mix, and get it into your fridge, for at least six hours.  Run a knife around the perimeter, loosen it carefully, and you have something that is a cross between a cheesecake, and an old fashioned dessert called a bavarian creme. 

But if you WANT the crust, you need to spend a bit more time.  And here we go.   You'll make this before you make the filling, so use that food processor again.  Put a stick of room temperature unsalted butter in it, with 2 tablespoons of brown sugar, of any type, and two tablespoons of honey.  Spin this around.  Now add a cup of unbleached flour, half a cup of whole wheat, a scant teaspoon of salt (the recipe calls for 3/4 of a teaspoon: who does that?), and a bit of cinnamon.  Annalena simply used cinnamon sugar.  You are also supposed to use a tablespoon of cocoa powder, which Annalena left out.  

You are going to get a very soft dough, which will remind some of you of cookie dough.  And indeed, it should, for this is a classic cookie crust.    Get it out of the food processor, form it into a ball, wrap it in plastic and refrigerate it for at least a couple of hours.  If you refrigerate it for a long time, as Annalena did, it shall become hard as a rock, and that is fine. 

When you are ready to make the thing, preheat your oven to 325.  Wait for the crust to come to room temperature, and soften, and that will take a while.  When it's soft enough, you can roll it between two pieces of parchment, and put it into either an 8 or 9 inch springform (we have the option here because we are adding more volume with the crust).  Truth to be told, ragazzi, you are going to push this around with your fingers, so if you left it to get nice and soft,  you would probably be better off.  Just make sure it covers the bottom of the pan, and goes up a bit on the sides - even if it's uneven.  Bake it for about 25 minutes in that 325 oven.  

When you've finished baking the crust, let it cool, and then pour in that wonderful filling you've made.  And then put the whole thing in the fridge.  Just like without the crust. 

The recipe called for decorating with whole strawberries, but Annalena has other ideas.  She made a strawberry rhubarb sauce. 

You wanna know?  Ok, here it is.   You can make this while the crust is baking.  Cut up enough rhubarb to fill a four cup, liquid measure.  Don't be a scientist here, there's no need. Put that in a pot with a cup of sugar, a third of a cup of water, and cover the pot.   Cook this at low heat for about ten minutes.  While that's happening, cut up about 2 cups of strawberries.  

After ten minutes, uncover the pot, and stir the rhubarb.  The motion will help what is inevitable, as the rhubarb dissolves into sauce.  Turn off the heat, stir in the berries, and let it cool.  

And you have several recipes here, darlins.  Even if you don't feel moved to make the cheesecake, make the sauce.  Pour it on ice cream, or someone or something.  It's really good.  The time is right, and strawberries and rhubarb are as perfect a combination as things come. 

Annalena still owes you the nettles recipe.  In time, kindern, in time.

Quiche a new way: with ricotta

Annalena has commented on quiche in these posts before, and you could do a search to see her remarks.    Today, she veered from the usual, and made a quiche differently.  And it is good.

Annalena and the Guyman do not eat quiche very often, and that is because they like it so much.  There is no way to deny it:  quiche is rich, heavy, fattening stuff.  If you do it right.  If you're going to do one of these quiches with a vegetable spread crust (or no crust at all), non fat milk, egg whites and low fat cheese, frankly, carini, you'd be better off playing basketball with it ,than eating it.  It just does not work.    So, especially for those of us who are now old enough to (theoretically), have grandchildren who can drive, eating quiche often is not in the cards.


But kiddos, when the vecchi (the old guys:  Annalena and the Guyman), go to a show, they often do not eat until they come home.  Annalena falls asleep and/or gets a nervous stomach when she eats before a show, and the Guyman has similar issues.  So, dinner when they come home must be ready.  And quiche fits the bill.

So, venturing into the kitchen, Annalena was planning to make a standard quiche, until she remembered the pound of sheeps milk ricotta that she had in the refrigerator for a week.  "Use it or lose it," right ragazzi?  She also remembered the oyster mushrooms from her "CSA sort of" this week, and the idea was born.


First, for those of you who are visual, let's see what it looks like:

It's a bit ragged, but that's home cooking for you.  Let's begin. 

First, you should make the crust.  It's easy, and you can always have some around. To make enough for two crusts,  put two cups of plain, all purpose flour in a food processor, with a teaspoon of salt. Pulse it.  Then cut up a stick and a half of cold, unsalted butter into small cubes.  Put in the stick's worth, and pulse until you get very fine grains - like rice, or smaller.  Then, in go the cubes from the half  a stick and now you pulse until you get pea sized granules.  Once you're there, add four tablespoons of ice water, and pulse again.  You probably will not have a cohesive dough at this point (turn the machine OFF and reach in and check), and then repeat with additional tablespoons of water, until you have something that holds together.  Dump it out on a surface or into a bowl, push it together with your hands, and then divide it in half.  Freeze one half, after you've formed it into a ball.  Form the other half into a ball, and let it refrigerate for at least a few hours.  (If it refrigerates for overnight, or more than one night, let it come to room temperature before you use it).  Sprinkle a good amount of flour on a surface, and then roll out the dough nice and thin.  No need to be afraid to use flour here.  Then push it into a 9 inch pie pan.  Annalena likes glass for this.  Put a piece of foil on top, and then weights.  Annalena has pie weights , which are like metal pearl necklaces, but you can use beans, or rice.  Once you use them for this, though, they cannot be cooked.  

Bake the thing for about fifteen minutes at 400, and then take it out, remove the foil and let it cool.    Drop the oven to 350. 

Now, Annalena's quiche used half a pound of fresh spinach, and a third of a pound of mushrooms for a filling.  If the spinach is young and fresh, all you need do is check to make sure it doesn't need a washing.  Separate the root portions, put it all in a pot, and add two tablespoons of water.  You'll need a big pot.  Cover it, and cook at low heat.  That spinach will collapse to about a cup.  Pull it out, and let it sit in a bowl, cooling, while you slice up the mushrooms, and cook them with a bit of salt in a couple tablespoons of olive oil.  No worries about undercooking them  here, cause they're gonna cook again.

When your spinach is cool, squeeze the water out with your hands, and chop it roughly.  

Now the fun part.  Your ricotta should be good quality (none of the stuff that ends with "o" ragazzi), and about a pound.  Put it in a big bowl, and add three eggs, a half cup of milk, and your veggies.  Stir this all together.  Taste it, and add salt and pepper if you like.  

You put all this into that prepared quiche shell and put it back in the oven for 30 minutes.   Annalena finds it convenient to put it on a baking sheet.  And you get what you saw up top. 

The key here, ragazzi, is that you can use ricotta, which is lower in fat (MUCH lower in fat) than the other cheeses normally used for quiche.   And you can use whatever vegetables you like.    And you have a crust recipe for the next time around. 

Lots of veggies available now for making things like this.  Let's get in there and cook.  You won't regret it.

Spanning the globe, and staying at home: two vegetable recipes: asparagus and parmesan, and nettle patties

Ciao a tutti.  Annalena hopes that you all enjoyed the excursion into chicken land.   That second recipe was nearly free of digression, wasn't it?  Well, we will not be so fortunate today, as we look at the construction of a recipe, using other recipes.  And this is one where you will learn where rules can be "broken" or at least modified.

Where shall we start?  We assume that at this point of the year, you're using your spring  veggies:  eat your asparagus now.  They won't be around forever.  But moreso, eat your nettles.  (Annalena  wishes we used the Italian name:  ortica.  She likes the sound better).  These will be here for less time and, unlike asparagus, these cannot be farmed.  They are being foraged wild.  They are worth the work, as we will see.

So let's turn to those asparagus and engage in a digression.  While in San Francisco, Annalena and the Guyman were meandering through a bookstore, and she saw that the American Academy in Rome had published two new books, on pasta and on vegetables.  Now, why is this significant?  Well, Annalena explains.

The American Academy in Rome is storied:  you attend, by invitation only.  It is supposed to be one of the most powerful groups of scholars in the world, studying all kinds of things.  And everyone raves of their stay.  For years, however, there was one issue:  food.  Apparently, the cafeteria was dreadful.  Now, Annalena questions why, in Rome, an institution like this needs a cafeteria, but  this is out of her control.  In any event, some time ago the Academy hired Alice Waters and Chez Panisse as consultants.  The food has been revamped, totally, and the books are coming out.  Annalena has the first one on soup, which she felt was "meh."  She also has the pasta one, which she hasn't looked at.  But the "verdure" book? Oh, what ideas!  And a recipe for her favorite vignarola. She is, in green heaven.

So there's the backstory.  One of the recipes involved roasted asparagus with basil oil.  It explains that, in Italy, basil does come in at about the same time as asparagus, so seasonality is there.

Lucky Italians.  BUT.... we adapt.   The idea of roasting asparagus is a really good one, especially if you really like asparagus (If you don't, oh well).  But without basil oil, Annalena was thinking, thinking... and here's how her thoughts went.

Asparagus with cheese is an unsung natural combination.  If you have not  had asparagus with a blanket of melted fontina, get to it.  NOW.    And then, make this. See, Annalena was thinking that a sharp cheese would go well with the asparagus, and she was right.

This one is as easy as it gets kids, so let's go.  Get one or two bunches of asparagus.  Try to get the thicker ones, but if you don't, don't worry.  We can adapt.  Cut off the tough ends.  Here's how you do it.  Bend one. See where it breaks.  The broken part is too tough to eat.  Or just get lazy and cut about an inch off the bottom.  Toss the jersey grass onto a baking sheet, with two or three tablespoons of olive oil, and toss them to coat.  Some pepper is nice, and the smallest amount of salt.  Not too much salt, because of what's to happen.

Get these guys into the oven, at 400 degrees and roast them for 30 minutes.  At fifteen minutes, move them around.  They are going to shrink and frankly, look quite horrible.  They will taste great.

You can stop here, but why not ask for more, as the Leonard Cohen song goes?  So, while they are roasting, grate anywhere from half a cup, to a full cup of good quality parmesan.  And when the tray of asparagus comes out of the oven,  (with your hands protected),  sprinkle the cheese over everything , and toss.  DO THIS WHILE THE VEGGIES ARE HOT.  The result is a mix of melted cheese, crispy cheese, and just grated cheese, all over the vegetables.  It is like a combination of frico (those wonderful cheese crisps), and concentrated asparagus flavor.  Nearly a meal in themselves, but if not, one of those treat yourself side dishes.

One word to the wise, ragazzi. Some of you are what we call, in sciences  "positive smellers."  If you are, you know what Annalena means.  And the concentration of the asparagus in the roasting removes the water and leaves other things behind.  Hence, an hour or so after, well...

Annalena thought she was going to include her recipe for nettle patties here, but she has gone on for a while.  That will follow separately.  She knows about attention spans.  So, ragazzi, go for this, and in preparation for the nettles, get yourself some thin gloves.  You will want them.

No more chickening out, part II: chicken thighs with honey, soy, lime and "the secret ingredient"

You know, Annalena has been very clear that frequently, recipes aren't.  She continues to feel that way. A truly good recipe should let you know, for example, that there is no substitute for an ingredient, or that you CAN try other things.  Undoubtedly, the more adventurous and experienced among us will say that making the substitutions is what all the fun is about, and   indeed, it is.  But how does the old saying go?  Or if it doesn't it should:  "you have to learn the rules before you can break the rules."  And sometimes, following the rules will give you something that is really wonderful and you may not ever want to stray.

Annalena does try to provide you with that information  when she writes these things, but if you ever have a question about whether or not she thinks a substitution will work,  please ask her.

The recipe which follows, contains what Annalena thinks is an essential ingredient.  She has anise seeds in her pantry at all times.  Not everyone does.  If you want to make this recipe, get a small jar:  it won't be expensive.  Anise has a lot of uses, and the amounts we will be using here, will have minimal "overly licorice" flavor.  Indeed, Annalena was hard pressed to find the licorice in the recipe, but she can say that the dish had a truly wonderful kind of subtle "umami" to it.   And for those of you unfamiliar with the term, look it up.  (No jokes about, No, YOU mami please).

The original recipe called for four pounds of chicken thighs.  It gave no details on boneless, skinless, etc, which always irks Annalena.  On finishing the recipe, and seeing what the pictures of the recipe revealed, clearly thighs on the bone, and with the skin, were intended.  The recipe did NOT say that.  Use em if you got em.  Annalena had boneless thighs, with a little skin on them, and they were fine.

You need soy sauce and here, use low salt, shoyu, or any type you have.  And, finally, the lime juice.  Now here's a difficult one:  Annalena would call this essential, but she could be wrong (it does happen).  So if you find yourself bereft of limes, try a mix of orange and lemon. Pure orange is probably too sweet, and pure lemon is probably too sour (Hmmm... Is there a Goldilocks and the Three Bears out there for citrus farmers?  She invokes the  Bomb on this).    Finally, do use the honey.  But use a mild one.  No buckwheat honey here, ragazzi.  And if you are upset at what honey production does to bees, you could use rice syrup.  Now, let's get to work.


Get two teaspoons of whole anise seeds, and crush them.  The original called for toasting, but this is a step that is a little tricky, and not necessary.  Crush them, simply, by pressing on them with a rolling pin or another heavy object.  Put them in a cup container, together with a quarter cup of fresh lime juice, a quarter cup of soy sauce, and two tablespoons of honey.  Mix that all together.  Now, chop up four large cloves of garlic, or perhaps a small bunch of green garlic at this time of year.  Add that, too.  Put that all in a bowl.  Add your chicken thighs.  Use your hands, and mix this all together, wash  up, and then cover the bowl of chicken and refrigerate it for at least a few hours.  Overnight is better.


When you're ready to cook, line a baking sheet with tin foil (don't leave this out), and preheat your oven to 450.  Don't be afraid.  You want some carmelization.  If you do have skin on your chicken thighs, put the skin side down.  Let the suckers cook for about twenty minutes (if they are on the bone), or fifteen (if they are not).  Then, turn them over and cook for the same length of time.

Have a plate ready for the chicken, as well as a small pot.  Protect your hands here, ragazzi, because you're going to first, move the chicken to the plate, and then pour the juices off into a pot.  If you did use thighs with a lot of skin, you will get fat coming to the surface, and try to blot as much of that off as possible.  Then, bring the juices to a  gentle boil, for about 3-5 minutes.  You will wind up with a light syrup, that you pour over that chicken, to intensify the flavor.

The result of all of this, ragazzi, is a delicious,  distinctly Asian chicken dish that cries for plain rice, or glass noodles.  Get to it.  Don't be a chicken.

Yes, she had to say it.

June is busting out with strawberry rhubarb cake

Ok, ragazzi,  Annalena promised you a chicken recipe, and she will keep that promise; however, you know that this blog always goes off schedule for "breaking news" from the kitchen.  And we have some this morning,  in a recipe that allows Annalena to engage in one of her favorite hobbies: digressing.  There is a tale behind this cake, and you're going to read it, whether you like it or not.  Or, you can just go to the end and make Annalena sad, which you don't want to do now, do you?

So, here's the tale. We begin in San Francisco, where we begin so many things. Annalena and the Guyman are sitting in Zuni Cafe' having dinner, and there is a salad on the menu with rhubarb in it, in a ginger vinaigrette.  Of course, Annalena's predisposition for the tart and sour wins out, and she gets the salad.  It is a bit of a disappointment, being light on rhubarb, but moreso as she remembers that rhubarb is late this year in NY.

See, ragazzi, while we are having spring,  it is a late spring this year.  Annalena, food Geek that she is, knows that by April 24, she has always had local rhubarb in the kitchen.  Not so this year.  She and the Guyman left for San Francisco on the 12th of May, and nary a sign of rhubarb.   But she knew... Or so she thought.  Jetlagged though they were, Annalena and the Guyman went grocery shopping on May 26 on their return... and no rhubarb!

Now, this is  not an issue on the level of world hunger, or the fact that words like "conversate" are now becoming accepted English (woe is us), but to Annalena, it was cause for concern.   

But on May 28, one of her gal pals, Franca, had rhubarb!  There was joy in Mudville.  And Annalena brought it home, but just a bit of it, and made the salad.  Good, but it is now clear that rhubarb loses its flavor in salad unless you put in so much of it that it's rhubarb rather than salad. 

We jump forward, and Annalena is reading a bread book written by Josey Baker , which is worth buying just for the pictures (and she speaks not only of the bread, amici...).  He has a recipe for cobbler, and speaks of how he likes STRAWBERRY cobbler, but his friends think he's a pig when he makes cobbler with only strawberries , so now he makes it with rhubarb as well. 

Annalena's advice on this point is to find new friends, and she recommends herself as one.   (here is a picture of Mr. Baker):

Do we have any questions?  You want to be his friend too, don't you?  

Aren't these digressions intriguing?  And he bakes.  

Ok, so how are we getting to the cake?  Well, read on.  It's been a while and you missed Annalena.    She went to the market on Saturday and with no plans to make rhubarb anything, didn't buy any.  Then she read a recipe in her Penzey's catalog for a rhubarb cake.  

AH!  She thought to herself.  There is STILL rhubarb in the fridge.  Is it enough? 

No, it was not.  But there were also two glorious quarts of beautiful ripe strawberries from Blind Merrie's farm (why is she so called?  Well, she drives in 130 miles on Saturday mornings.  And according to Merrie, if she doesn't have at least one driver yell to her 'JESUS CHRIST LADY ARE YOU BLIND? '  she's not driving fast enough.   Believe it).    Strawberry rhubarb... A glorious combination. Sort of like asparagus and cheese (and we will get to that too). 

So, Annalena augmented the recipe,  and the result is below.  STOP STARING AT MR. BAKER'S PICTURE AND READ ON YOU SLUTS. 

This is a very easy recipe. Absurdly easy.  And as always, Annalena is going to help you with substitutions. 

You start by preheating your oven to 350.  Then, melt a stick of unsalted butter, and keep the paper handy.  You're going to be doing some greasing (OF A PAN.  NOT MR. BAKER. ).  Grease a 9x13 inch pan (you can use what's left for Mr. Baker).

While the butter cools, slice enough rhubarb thinly, to get 1.5 cups.  Annalena had, maybe a cup.  So she sliced up two cups of strawberries as well.  Do as you wish here. This is a recipe that can handle the fruit. 

She did write that, didn't she?  Ok, into a bowl, dump 1.5 cups of white sugar, the melted butter, a large egg (without the shell.  She has to be precise here, given the picture.  She knows... she knows), 1 cup of sour cream (don't do low fat here, kids).  If you do not have sour cream, use a full fat yogurt.  And if you don't have quite a cup, augment it with whole milk, as Annalena did.  One must make these compromises, since yogurt now comes in six ounce containers.   Finally, a nice bit of vanilla extract. 

Now, the original recipe called for either fresh, or frozen rhubarb.  Whenever Annalena has frozen rhubarb, it is in  large chunks.  You need the rhubarb to be solid here, so Annalena does not quite know how you would slice the frozen stuff.  If you can thaw it a bit and slice it, go ahead.  And in the winter,  instead of using fruit, you can do this with a thick jam.    Annalena will explain. 

So you have all that liquid stuff.   Stir it up together, and now toss in your rhubarb and your strawberries, and watch the mixture turn light pink.      Add a teaspoon of either baking soda (called for ), or baking powder (what Annalena used), and two cups of all purpose flour.  Stir this all up.  You'll have a thick mixture.  Dump it into your pan, and spread it out nice and even, and then pour either a half cup of sugar, a half cup of cinnamon sugar (make your own: you know how), or half a cup of vanilla sugar, over the thing. 

Now, let's go back. If you're doing this in the winter, without fruit, but using jam, after you've dumped the batter into the pan,  make little pockets of about half a teaspoon of jam all over the surface.  If you are so inclined, as the Pink Lady mentioned below would be, you can get decorative. 

Get the cake in the oven and bake it for 30 minutes.   

It takes less time to make this cake than it does to read Annalena's musings.   She will tell you, it is not the dieter's delight:  with the sour cream, the cake has 3600 calories in it.  There ain't much way to cut this back, ragazzi, so do it, eat small, and enjoy it. 

Annalena wants to dedicate this to three of her rhubarb lovin gal pals:  Mama Sue, Gilda in Houston, and the Pink Lady of Austin.  Y'all know who you are, and she wants y'all to make it.  

Did Annalena tell you she's going to go and read her new bread book now?