Annalena is about to make her annual journey to San Francisco, and hopes to regale all of you with her tales along the way. BUT before she goes, she wants to leave you with a recipe that I do hope you will make.
It seems that some of the food crops have come to market much earlier this year than last. Is that global warming at work? Rhubarb came in on EXACTLY the same day as it has for the past two years: April 24. But I remember making desserts before this trip that included only rhubarb, because there were no strawberries. I also recall eating just a few asparagus before we went on the trip, always at the end of May. This year, we have been enjoying asparagus nearly every day, for the last three weeks. As for strawberries, we are told that, by the time we get back, the south New Jersey berry season will be over. Hmmm. Mother Nature, or global warming, or both?
well, with a dinner party upon her, Annalena decided to make a strawberry rhubarb crisp. Know what she found? NO RECIPES. Plenty of recipes for rhubarb crisp, none for the combinaton. And, she also found that these recipes were, well, SKIMPY. Annalena does NOT skimp on her friends. No siree. So, she developed this recipe which follows.
Let us start with the crisp topping. Most crisp toppings have some form of oat, and some kind of nut in them, usually pecans or walnuts. Well, recently, I have enjoyed Patty Jackson's rhubarb tart, with comes with chopped hazelnuts on top, and I recalled eating a rhubarb pie with a scoop of pistachio ice cream, and thinking it was a wonderful combination. Pistachio won out here, as the topping, but please by all means use what you like.
Here's what you do. you take a big heaping cup of flour. REALLY heaping: close to a cup and a third. Mix it with a half cup of sugar. I used all white sugar, but you can mix em if you like. Add a pinch of salt and a cup of toasted pistachio nuts.
How do you toast the nuts? Get the unsalted ones (you could, come to think of it, use salted ones if you like), put em on a baking sheet, and bake at 35o until you begin to smell nuts. Get them out of the oven and into a bowl to cool. When they're cool, add them to the dry ingredients. Then cut up a stick and a half of unsalted butter (ESPECIALLY if your nuts are salted), and rub that into the dry ingredients. You can pulse it in a food processor if you like, and that will chop up the nuts for you.
That's your topping, and you can make that a millenium ahead of time, just freeze it.
For the fruit: Get three pounds of rhubarb. Cut the yucky ends off, and then cut the rhubarb into pieces about a half to 2/3 inch long. Add a quart of strawberries, cut into halves or quarters, depending on their size. Add a cup of sugar to this, together with a third of a cup of flour. Mix it all up together, and let it sit until you begin to see some liquid coming off of the fruit. When that happens, fill a BIG baking dish with the fruit. Pour the crisp topping over it. Put the baking dish on a baking sheet, and put the whole contraption into a preheated, 375 degree oven and let it cook for nearly an hour. You want to see thick, bubbling red juices at the end, that scare you when you think of how hot they will be (because they will be that hot).
Let this sit before you eat it. It's too hot, and the flavors need time to develop. Please do Annalena a favor and do not refrigerate it, though. If you do, the crisp will lose its crispness. It will still be tasty, but you will lose that element of it. It won't sit around all that long if you have the kind of friends I do.
You could make this, by the way, in individual ramekins. That was Annalena's original plans, but when 8 for dinner became 9, and Annalena only had 8 ramekins. One makes do. It's all good.
Have some fun. Switch nuts, switch fruits, and make some of these during the summer, when fruit is at its best
Sunday, May 16, 2010
By Popular Demand: strawberry shortcake
There are certain dishes that Annalena just doesn't make anymore. In some cases, it is because she is bored with them. In others, it is because, well, miraculous cook though she may be, Annalena just does not do the dish well. Fried chicken, for example, is NOT one of her strong points. Nor are brownies. I swear, that if I put four pounds of ingredients into a brownie mix, what comes out, at the end, weighs
20. It's true. I swear it is. Had the Greeks had my brownies at the time of the Trojan war, they would not have needed the horse. My brownies would have brought down the wall. My beter half makes a better brownie.
Now, if you think about those two dishes, they are both "iconic." Who does not know fried chicken, or brownies? So, deciding to leave alone the classics to those who can do them, I have done so. And so it was with strawberry shortcake. Until this week.
It was one of those "perfect storms" of cooking. Here's what happened. I swear, it is all true. Nevia, the goddess of vegetables and some fruit, said to me, last Saturday "would you like some strawberries? The catch is, you have to make me something?" My reply, not being all that stupid was "SURE. What would you like?" She then put about 4 pounds of berries into containers for me and said "how about strawberry shortcake?"
Oh boy. Well, I did not want to look a gift strawberry in the mouth, nor did I want to disappoint Nevia, so home I went, determined to defeat this beast. And I have. With the help of the indispensible Lindsey Shere.
I use Ms. Shere's book for ice cream recipes, and always forget that it is a fabulous book on desserts, generally. Seriously, ragazzi, you should all track down this book and cook from it. Her style is wonderful, and the recipes are "elegant." I say that in the sense of a beautiful black dress. You want to say it's "simple," but it's sad that this word has developed a set of negative connotations. So, let's stick to elegant. So it is with this recipe.
See, getting the fruit and whipped cream right has never been a problem for the redoubtable Annalena. But the biscuits? Again the "4 pounds in/10 pounds out" problem was always there. But the recipe that Ms. Shere provides is stellar. And it's elegant.
OK, it's simple. Let's get started.
First thing: get your berries. LOTS of them . As many as you can afford. This is a dessert of pure, late spring indulgence. Get ripe ones, but if they're not so ripe, what you're going to do to them will help a lot. Cut them into halves , or quarters if you're using the huge darlings that have no taste. Then, add a quarter cup of sugar for every four cups of cut berries you have. Crush about a quarter of the berries with the back of a spoon or a meat pounder (CAREFUL kids), or whatever you have. Then, put the mix aside, unrefrigerated, and let it macerate. The juices will run, and if you taste this after about 20 minutes, you will hug yourself for the miraculous thing you've just done.
Now, let's get the biscuits together. You need 2 cups of flour, a half teaspoon of salt, a TABLESPOON (important), of baking powder, a stick of cold, unsalted butter, and a cup of cream. Take a quarter cup of that cream and put it aside.
Mix the dry ingredients together. Then put in the cut butter and get your fingers in there and just mix the stuff up until you get a mix that looks like rough cornmeal or polenta. Some pieces of butter floating around are fine. Pour the 3/4 cup of cream into that, stir it around (I used my hand), and then dump everything onto a board. Knead it a few times, and then roll it out, or press it out, to a 1/2 inch thick slab. You can either cut this into squares, or get a round cutter and cut the classic biscuits out of them. Try to make about 10-12 (I got ten). Put them on an ungreased baking sheet, and then paint the tops with the remaining cream.
Bake them for 12 minutes, if you make them smaller, or fifteen, if you made them bigger.
You will be amazed how they will puff up. They will brown on the bottom, which is fine. Take em out, and let them cool.
While they're cooling, take another cup of heavy cream and add about a quarter cup of sugar to it. Whip it to soft peaks.
Now, you're ready. Cut open the biscuits and put a layer of half of them down. Put the berries and juice over that, saving just a bit of juice. Put the other half of the biscuit halves on the berries, and cover the mass with the cream.
You could also do this in individual portions. And you could use ice cream, or custard, in place of the whipped cream. You could also mix different fruits. I plan to do this with blueberries AND with sour cherries, as they come into season.
A cooking monster, defeated, thanks to the push of a nice Korean lady, and the book of a confirmed Californian. Annalena considers this a good day.
20. It's true. I swear it is. Had the Greeks had my brownies at the time of the Trojan war, they would not have needed the horse. My brownies would have brought down the wall. My beter half makes a better brownie.
Now, if you think about those two dishes, they are both "iconic." Who does not know fried chicken, or brownies? So, deciding to leave alone the classics to those who can do them, I have done so. And so it was with strawberry shortcake. Until this week.
It was one of those "perfect storms" of cooking. Here's what happened. I swear, it is all true. Nevia, the goddess of vegetables and some fruit, said to me, last Saturday "would you like some strawberries? The catch is, you have to make me something?" My reply, not being all that stupid was "SURE. What would you like?" She then put about 4 pounds of berries into containers for me and said "how about strawberry shortcake?"
Oh boy. Well, I did not want to look a gift strawberry in the mouth, nor did I want to disappoint Nevia, so home I went, determined to defeat this beast. And I have. With the help of the indispensible Lindsey Shere.
I use Ms. Shere's book for ice cream recipes, and always forget that it is a fabulous book on desserts, generally. Seriously, ragazzi, you should all track down this book and cook from it. Her style is wonderful, and the recipes are "elegant." I say that in the sense of a beautiful black dress. You want to say it's "simple," but it's sad that this word has developed a set of negative connotations. So, let's stick to elegant. So it is with this recipe.
See, getting the fruit and whipped cream right has never been a problem for the redoubtable Annalena. But the biscuits? Again the "4 pounds in/10 pounds out" problem was always there. But the recipe that Ms. Shere provides is stellar. And it's elegant.
OK, it's simple. Let's get started.
First thing: get your berries. LOTS of them . As many as you can afford. This is a dessert of pure, late spring indulgence. Get ripe ones, but if they're not so ripe, what you're going to do to them will help a lot. Cut them into halves , or quarters if you're using the huge darlings that have no taste. Then, add a quarter cup of sugar for every four cups of cut berries you have. Crush about a quarter of the berries with the back of a spoon or a meat pounder (CAREFUL kids), or whatever you have. Then, put the mix aside, unrefrigerated, and let it macerate. The juices will run, and if you taste this after about 20 minutes, you will hug yourself for the miraculous thing you've just done.
Now, let's get the biscuits together. You need 2 cups of flour, a half teaspoon of salt, a TABLESPOON (important), of baking powder, a stick of cold, unsalted butter, and a cup of cream. Take a quarter cup of that cream and put it aside.
Mix the dry ingredients together. Then put in the cut butter and get your fingers in there and just mix the stuff up until you get a mix that looks like rough cornmeal or polenta. Some pieces of butter floating around are fine. Pour the 3/4 cup of cream into that, stir it around (I used my hand), and then dump everything onto a board. Knead it a few times, and then roll it out, or press it out, to a 1/2 inch thick slab. You can either cut this into squares, or get a round cutter and cut the classic biscuits out of them. Try to make about 10-12 (I got ten). Put them on an ungreased baking sheet, and then paint the tops with the remaining cream.
Bake them for 12 minutes, if you make them smaller, or fifteen, if you made them bigger.
You will be amazed how they will puff up. They will brown on the bottom, which is fine. Take em out, and let them cool.
While they're cooling, take another cup of heavy cream and add about a quarter cup of sugar to it. Whip it to soft peaks.
Now, you're ready. Cut open the biscuits and put a layer of half of them down. Put the berries and juice over that, saving just a bit of juice. Put the other half of the biscuit halves on the berries, and cover the mass with the cream.
You could also do this in individual portions. And you could use ice cream, or custard, in place of the whipped cream. You could also mix different fruits. I plan to do this with blueberries AND with sour cherries, as they come into season.
A cooking monster, defeated, thanks to the push of a nice Korean lady, and the book of a confirmed Californian. Annalena considers this a good day.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Moroccan Carrot Salad
When Annalena ventures outside of her realm to other cuisines, she looks for "consanguinities." (Look it up. You'll love the word). Is there something that I can point to and say "this reminds me of Italian stuff" Sometimes, there isn't, like with guacamole, but it's so good that I just learn to make it, and continue to learn to make it.
There are certain consanguinities between Moroccan food, and SOUTHERN Italian food. In fact, they exist for all of those wonderful Mediterranean cuisines. Paula Wolfert is the expert on that kind of thing (THE expert), and I urge you to become familiar with her books and her recipes. I'm afraid that we will not see the likes of Ms Wolfert, who is both chef and anthropologist, for a while. She's not going anywhere, but I'm looking for the next generation of explorers who learn their cuisine cultures, too.
I am told by her books, and by others, that there is an entire repertoire of carrot salads in Moroccan cooking, and that sounds fine to me. I made this one as part of a plate of three salads for a party. It vanished. I could have made three times as much. It typifies much of what is so wonderful about the style of Mediterranean cooking: it's easy, it's simple (the two are NOT synonymous in cooking), and it tastes good. It is also extremely economical. AND... for all you busy folks out there, you can make it ahead of time.
I am also told that it's Arabic name is "Shalata chizo." I might add that it's MOROCCAN Arabic, because if you want to get into a linguistic duel, start talking about the different varieties of Arabic.
Ok. First, you need a pound of carrots. Scrape em clean, and then grate them roughly. The big hole end of a box grater (if you don't have one, GET ONE), is perfect for this. Put them into a big bowl, and just start tossing in the following things: 1/4 cup of extra virgin olive oil (the recipe says you can use vegetable oil. DONT). Then squeeze in the juice of one or two lemons. If you happen to have a meyer lemon, use one of those, or use all meyer juice. Next a big helping of chopped cilantro (if you like it), or parsley (if you don't). I used parsley because I didn't know if my guests would like the cilantro. It was fine Use the flat leaved varieity. "Big helping?" I used about 3/4 of a cup, triple what the recipe called for. Also chop up 4 cloves of garlic, really fine. Then add a teaspoon of ground cumin, a teaspoon of sweet paprika (yes, there is more than one kind. If you don't have the sweet, use the smoked, which is what I did). Add some salt, and then, finally something hot and spicy. Harissa is authentic, cayenne pepper works. Half a teaspoon of this.
Like I say, just put this all in a bowl, toss it together with your hands, cover it, and put it in the fridge. You can do this two days ahead if you want, it's just fine and it's better for it.
Put it out with toasted pita bread, or just plain pita bread, and watch it disappear.
Play it out. How long would it take you to make this salad? Fifteen minutes? I think you can handle it.
Summer is coming up. Can you think of much better than this with your barbeque?
There are certain consanguinities between Moroccan food, and SOUTHERN Italian food. In fact, they exist for all of those wonderful Mediterranean cuisines. Paula Wolfert is the expert on that kind of thing (THE expert), and I urge you to become familiar with her books and her recipes. I'm afraid that we will not see the likes of Ms Wolfert, who is both chef and anthropologist, for a while. She's not going anywhere, but I'm looking for the next generation of explorers who learn their cuisine cultures, too.
I am told by her books, and by others, that there is an entire repertoire of carrot salads in Moroccan cooking, and that sounds fine to me. I made this one as part of a plate of three salads for a party. It vanished. I could have made three times as much. It typifies much of what is so wonderful about the style of Mediterranean cooking: it's easy, it's simple (the two are NOT synonymous in cooking), and it tastes good. It is also extremely economical. AND... for all you busy folks out there, you can make it ahead of time.
I am also told that it's Arabic name is "Shalata chizo." I might add that it's MOROCCAN Arabic, because if you want to get into a linguistic duel, start talking about the different varieties of Arabic.
Ok. First, you need a pound of carrots. Scrape em clean, and then grate them roughly. The big hole end of a box grater (if you don't have one, GET ONE), is perfect for this. Put them into a big bowl, and just start tossing in the following things: 1/4 cup of extra virgin olive oil (the recipe says you can use vegetable oil. DONT). Then squeeze in the juice of one or two lemons. If you happen to have a meyer lemon, use one of those, or use all meyer juice. Next a big helping of chopped cilantro (if you like it), or parsley (if you don't). I used parsley because I didn't know if my guests would like the cilantro. It was fine Use the flat leaved varieity. "Big helping?" I used about 3/4 of a cup, triple what the recipe called for. Also chop up 4 cloves of garlic, really fine. Then add a teaspoon of ground cumin, a teaspoon of sweet paprika (yes, there is more than one kind. If you don't have the sweet, use the smoked, which is what I did). Add some salt, and then, finally something hot and spicy. Harissa is authentic, cayenne pepper works. Half a teaspoon of this.
Like I say, just put this all in a bowl, toss it together with your hands, cover it, and put it in the fridge. You can do this two days ahead if you want, it's just fine and it's better for it.
Put it out with toasted pita bread, or just plain pita bread, and watch it disappear.
Play it out. How long would it take you to make this salad? Fifteen minutes? I think you can handle it.
Summer is coming up. Can you think of much better than this with your barbeque?
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Didja miss me? Well, I'm back: with green garlic ricotta pudding souffle
Yes, yes, yes, Annalena DID abandon all of you for an extended period of time. The reasons are multitude as are the excuses, and I shall not offer any, but I will offer my apologies, to anyone who may have wondered "is the woman ok?" "is she coming back?" And so on and so forth. To paraphrase one of my favorite Joan Baez songs "I never left, said she." And now I'm back. And one way or the other, I will fill you in on the recipes I have been making. I will TRY (but I will not promise), to get one down every day, especially now that we are full flush in the glory of spring.
Asparagus. Rhubarb. Greens. Yes, the market is beginning to bulge. If you have a friend who happens to grow strawberries, you may get some of those too. They're not "there" yet, but they are "here."
Many of the things that we are finding at the market now, are transient. REALLY transient. You can find them for a few weeks, and then they are gone, gone GONE, whereas others will be around for a while. By the end of June, at the latest, the local asparagus will be finished, so we're eating them just about every day now. Ramps are here, but not for much longer. I still wait for the fiddleheads. And... one of my favorite things has come in. Call it "spring" garlic, call it "young" garlic, call it "green" garlic, but just ask for it, and use it.
Green garlic, as I call it, is garlic that has not quite gone to cloves. It has a mild flavor. Not as mild as leeks, and not as strong as the garlic we are used to. It's distinct. And you should enjoy it, NOW.
As with many of my recipes, this is a variation on something I learned from studying the recipes out of Chez Panisse. They serve up , and present in recipe form, a dish that they call green garlic pudding souffle'. I studied that recipe this morning, and thought "I am NOT ready to commit to this for lunch." Also, it called for gruyere cheese, which I do not have in the house. But I DO have ricotta that is beginning to luck at me askance. So, a bit of thinking , and a readiness to sacrifice lightness for heft, and away we went.
Get yourself a few bunches of green garlic from the farmers market. You're going to want somewhere between 1/3 and 1/2 pound of it. Err on the side of buying more. You won't regret it. You will also need a pound of good quality ricotta (and as I've said before, this does not mean the stuff that ends with an "O" and you can get at the supermarket.). Four egggs. Some butter, and a bit of milk.
Yes, it's rich. But it's spring. The weather is warm. You're encouraged to take exercise. And in a few weeks, this will not be here.
So, get those green garlics, cut off the root ends, and then chop them roughly. You will want , ultimately, a scant cup or so of the chopped stuff. Saute' them, in a couple of tablespoons of butter, until they're soft. It will not take long. Try not to brown them, but if you do, it's far from the end of the world.
Put the garlic into a food processor with the ricotta, and the eggs, and a good pinch of salt. Whizz that to the point where the cheese is smooth, but you can still see bits of the garlic in there. Put it aside (incidentally, you can do this part of the dish hours before you eat. ). Now, get the whites from the 4 eggs, and whip them until you get soft peaks. What is a soft peak? Glad you asked Sue (I KNEW it was you). Lift the beater head, and watch the tip of the white . If it forms a curly cue, but falls over, that's soft peaks. Fold the cheese mixture into this (I have seen this step written a skazillion times as putting the whites into the eggs. I have not observed a difference in the order). Stir the stuff together, gently, until it's uniformly combined. Then, pour it into a buttered baking dish (you don't have to use a souffle' dish. I used an 8x8 glass baking pan and I was happy with it). Put that on a baking sheet, and get it into a preheated, 400 degree oven.
NOW, get a kettle and pour water (room temperature) onto the baking sheet, until it comes about an inch up the baking dish. Let the thing cook away for about 30 minutes.
This isn't going to rise much, because of the ricotta. But it will rise a bit, and it will firm up, without getting hard. Scoop it out and serve it in bowls, preferably with something like my smothered dandelion greens.
Glad you asked. Here's how you do it. Cut the dandelion greens from their stems, at the point where the stems begin to get tough. Toss the tough stuff, and then put the greens into a big pan, with a few tabelspoons of olive oil. Start with a cold pan, and cook for a few minutes. NOW, add a bit of salt, and a quarter cup of water. Cover the pan, lower the heat, and leave it alone for ten minutes. The greens will darken, but hold their shape, and they will get lovely tender.
They are a perfect foil for the souffle pudding, but if you want, make them as a side vegetable dish, maybe putting a few drops of an acid of some kind: white vinegar, lemon juice, sumac, etc, into them.
This was our lunch today, so we ate big portions. Serve it forth as you will. For me, I could eat the whole dish myself. But I'm a big boned kinda gal.
Asparagus. Rhubarb. Greens. Yes, the market is beginning to bulge. If you have a friend who happens to grow strawberries, you may get some of those too. They're not "there" yet, but they are "here."
Many of the things that we are finding at the market now, are transient. REALLY transient. You can find them for a few weeks, and then they are gone, gone GONE, whereas others will be around for a while. By the end of June, at the latest, the local asparagus will be finished, so we're eating them just about every day now. Ramps are here, but not for much longer. I still wait for the fiddleheads. And... one of my favorite things has come in. Call it "spring" garlic, call it "young" garlic, call it "green" garlic, but just ask for it, and use it.
Green garlic, as I call it, is garlic that has not quite gone to cloves. It has a mild flavor. Not as mild as leeks, and not as strong as the garlic we are used to. It's distinct. And you should enjoy it, NOW.
As with many of my recipes, this is a variation on something I learned from studying the recipes out of Chez Panisse. They serve up , and present in recipe form, a dish that they call green garlic pudding souffle'. I studied that recipe this morning, and thought "I am NOT ready to commit to this for lunch." Also, it called for gruyere cheese, which I do not have in the house. But I DO have ricotta that is beginning to luck at me askance. So, a bit of thinking , and a readiness to sacrifice lightness for heft, and away we went.
Get yourself a few bunches of green garlic from the farmers market. You're going to want somewhere between 1/3 and 1/2 pound of it. Err on the side of buying more. You won't regret it. You will also need a pound of good quality ricotta (and as I've said before, this does not mean the stuff that ends with an "O" and you can get at the supermarket.). Four egggs. Some butter, and a bit of milk.
Yes, it's rich. But it's spring. The weather is warm. You're encouraged to take exercise. And in a few weeks, this will not be here.
So, get those green garlics, cut off the root ends, and then chop them roughly. You will want , ultimately, a scant cup or so of the chopped stuff. Saute' them, in a couple of tablespoons of butter, until they're soft. It will not take long. Try not to brown them, but if you do, it's far from the end of the world.
Put the garlic into a food processor with the ricotta, and the eggs, and a good pinch of salt. Whizz that to the point where the cheese is smooth, but you can still see bits of the garlic in there. Put it aside (incidentally, you can do this part of the dish hours before you eat. ). Now, get the whites from the 4 eggs, and whip them until you get soft peaks. What is a soft peak? Glad you asked Sue (I KNEW it was you). Lift the beater head, and watch the tip of the white . If it forms a curly cue, but falls over, that's soft peaks. Fold the cheese mixture into this (I have seen this step written a skazillion times as putting the whites into the eggs. I have not observed a difference in the order). Stir the stuff together, gently, until it's uniformly combined. Then, pour it into a buttered baking dish (you don't have to use a souffle' dish. I used an 8x8 glass baking pan and I was happy with it). Put that on a baking sheet, and get it into a preheated, 400 degree oven.
NOW, get a kettle and pour water (room temperature) onto the baking sheet, until it comes about an inch up the baking dish. Let the thing cook away for about 30 minutes.
This isn't going to rise much, because of the ricotta. But it will rise a bit, and it will firm up, without getting hard. Scoop it out and serve it in bowls, preferably with something like my smothered dandelion greens.
Glad you asked. Here's how you do it. Cut the dandelion greens from their stems, at the point where the stems begin to get tough. Toss the tough stuff, and then put the greens into a big pan, with a few tabelspoons of olive oil. Start with a cold pan, and cook for a few minutes. NOW, add a bit of salt, and a quarter cup of water. Cover the pan, lower the heat, and leave it alone for ten minutes. The greens will darken, but hold their shape, and they will get lovely tender.
They are a perfect foil for the souffle pudding, but if you want, make them as a side vegetable dish, maybe putting a few drops of an acid of some kind: white vinegar, lemon juice, sumac, etc, into them.
This was our lunch today, so we ate big portions. Serve it forth as you will. For me, I could eat the whole dish myself. But I'm a big boned kinda gal.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Dueling muhammaras
Nope, we're not entering the political zone of the Mideast here, or maybe we are, on a very fundamental level.
What is muhammara? Glad you asked, even if you didn't. Muhammara is one of those mysterious spreads and dips that you get in Mideast restaurants. It's Turkish in origin, they tell me,which probably means that there are disputes all over the Aegean as to where it comes from. My assistant, who is from Greece, tells me she's never heart of it, and indeed, the pomegranate molasses that is in it is not something I associate with Greek food. Moroccan? Paula Wolfert, you out there? Can you chime in? Anyone else? Syrian? Israeli? Someone?
Ultimately, who cares, unless you have a recipe you want to compare this too.
This dish requires roasted peppers, and fresh peppers are out of season for a while.
Use your pantry. You can buy really good quality roasted peppers. I bought an Italian brand that gave me three peppers to a jar: 2 red, one yellow, and they were terrific. Annalena enjoys roasting peppers herself, and the aroma that they import to the home, but hey, you gotta live with what you live with.
I think the hardest part of this recipe is toasting the walnuts, and finding pomegranate molasses. Annalena has four different types of it. I suggest you find someone who has some and borrow it, because you only need a tablespoon, and let's face it: you won't use it again, for a while.
TO THE KITCHEN: you need a cup of walnuts. To toast them, heat your oven to 350. Put the walnuts out on a tray, and toast them until, well, they smell "toasty." This is about 10 minutes. Err on the side of underdone, they'll continue to toast when you take the tray out of the oven. While they're toasting, get those peppers: six whole roasted ones, any color. Chop up a jalapeno pepper (not an option. You need this), an onion, 2 or 3 cloves of garlic, and toss them in a bowl. You also want to add to this, a tablespoon fo the pomegranate molasses, the juice of a lemon (meyer, or standard), a teaspoon of cumin.
Now, a controversial step for some people: bread crumbs. I used them. I used 3/4 cup of dried. You can use fresh, and you can leave it out, but the resulting product will be much wetter.
Put ALL of this in a food processor, and pulse. It will process remarkably easily: there's a lot of moisture in those peppers. And while it's happening, add 2 tablespoons of olive oil.
Know what? You're done. If you are familiar with Greek cooking, it may remind you of skordalia, or perhaps tahini or something like that. I see some similiartities will all of these.
All you need now is some toast of some kind to dip into the stuff. Pita is standard, and good, but use what you like.
My friends combined this with some smoked ham and found it exquisite. Me? Sheep's milk ricotta please. Or, just as it is. It's yummy. And you will notice the molasses and may find other ways to use it.
If you borrowed a bottle, your friend may never get it back
What is muhammara? Glad you asked, even if you didn't. Muhammara is one of those mysterious spreads and dips that you get in Mideast restaurants. It's Turkish in origin, they tell me,which probably means that there are disputes all over the Aegean as to where it comes from. My assistant, who is from Greece, tells me she's never heart of it, and indeed, the pomegranate molasses that is in it is not something I associate with Greek food. Moroccan? Paula Wolfert, you out there? Can you chime in? Anyone else? Syrian? Israeli? Someone?
Ultimately, who cares, unless you have a recipe you want to compare this too.
This dish requires roasted peppers, and fresh peppers are out of season for a while.
Use your pantry. You can buy really good quality roasted peppers. I bought an Italian brand that gave me three peppers to a jar: 2 red, one yellow, and they were terrific. Annalena enjoys roasting peppers herself, and the aroma that they import to the home, but hey, you gotta live with what you live with.
I think the hardest part of this recipe is toasting the walnuts, and finding pomegranate molasses. Annalena has four different types of it. I suggest you find someone who has some and borrow it, because you only need a tablespoon, and let's face it: you won't use it again, for a while.
TO THE KITCHEN: you need a cup of walnuts. To toast them, heat your oven to 350. Put the walnuts out on a tray, and toast them until, well, they smell "toasty." This is about 10 minutes. Err on the side of underdone, they'll continue to toast when you take the tray out of the oven. While they're toasting, get those peppers: six whole roasted ones, any color. Chop up a jalapeno pepper (not an option. You need this), an onion, 2 or 3 cloves of garlic, and toss them in a bowl. You also want to add to this, a tablespoon fo the pomegranate molasses, the juice of a lemon (meyer, or standard), a teaspoon of cumin.
Now, a controversial step for some people: bread crumbs. I used them. I used 3/4 cup of dried. You can use fresh, and you can leave it out, but the resulting product will be much wetter.
Put ALL of this in a food processor, and pulse. It will process remarkably easily: there's a lot of moisture in those peppers. And while it's happening, add 2 tablespoons of olive oil.
Know what? You're done. If you are familiar with Greek cooking, it may remind you of skordalia, or perhaps tahini or something like that. I see some similiartities will all of these.
All you need now is some toast of some kind to dip into the stuff. Pita is standard, and good, but use what you like.
My friends combined this with some smoked ham and found it exquisite. Me? Sheep's milk ricotta please. Or, just as it is. It's yummy. And you will notice the molasses and may find other ways to use it.
If you borrowed a bottle, your friend may never get it back
I DID say spring had sprung, didn't I? Oh well. Leek and garlic sauce
In the last post, I sang the praises of rhubarb, which I shall continue to do for a while . We are in that period of the year, however, where the spring goodies are simply not plentiful enough to push the winter goodies out of the way completely. That isn't necessarily a bad thing. As the constant reader knows, Annalena is very fond of working with what winter gives her. And if the winter gives her leeks, well, Annalena is "there."
This is a pasta sauce which, believe it or not, represents a REDUCTION of richness. As I was making it, I was tasting, and it is such a strong tasting sauce that as I looked ahead, I realized that it was going to be 'too much'. Now, coming from the pen of the writer who has said that "wretched excess is barely enough," that is saying something. But bear with me. If you make this - and I hope you will - you will see what I mean.
The ingredients are fairly simple. You need butter and olive oil. 2 tablespoons of the former, and one of the latter. You will also need LOTS of leeks - I would say that six of the monsters you can buy in the supermarket, or up to 12 of the normal sized ones you'll find at the farmers market. You really can't use too many leeks in this recipe. You also need a good dozen cloves of garlic. Use the plump ones. You'll get about six of those from every head of garlic, so do the math. In terms of liquids, you will need either 1.5 cups of chicken stock (or clear vegetable stock), or a cup of stock and half a cup of white wine. As I present this recipe, I will write it as if I were using the wine, but make the substitution. you're smart. You also need half a cup of heavy cream and, if you take this all the way, half a cup of grated pecorino romano cheese. Grate it yourself.
Now, the thing that will take the most time here, is cutting the leeks. Get rid of the dark green part, and then slice the remaining leeks into half moons. It's going to take a while, but it's all worth it. If they are dirty - and they probably will be - dump them in a big pot of water. Peel the garlic. Don't sit there and try to be clinical about this step - just smash em and pull off the skin, then cut the cloves in half.
Got everything together? Ok, let's cook. Get a wide skillet ready and put the fats in it. When the butter has melted, add the leeks, the garlic, a pinch of salt, a pinch of pepper, and lower the heat. Stir this mess a bit, for about five minutes. Now add the half cup of wine, and raise the heat, until it evaporates. If you blink, you'll miss it. Add the rest of the liquid, and lower the heat.
My original recipe calls for putting a sheet of parchment paper on top of this and lowering the heat, and I did in fact do this, but I imagine if you have a tight fitting lid, you'll be fine. The heat should be low, and you'll want to come back and stir this, every five minutes or so, for about 40 minutes.
Taste as you go along and you'll realize how much sugar is in each of these "vegetables." This sauce is going to develop a very strong, sweet, carmelization typ e of flavor. You will not think there's garlic in it. I promise.
You can use this sauce as it is, and perhaps you should. I did then add the half cup of cream, and stirred it until the stuff thickened. Once I tasted it, putting in cheese was out of the question. Indeed, when I used this as a pasta sauce, I added water to thin it, and no one minded.
You will get enough sauce here to serve at least six people. I had doubled the recipe, served 8 folks, and had enough left over to serve 3 more people. The portion size of pasta may seem small at first: you want 3 ounces per person. BUT... given the flavor of the sauce, with or without the cream or cheese, it's very mouth filling and it is really a first course kind of thing.
The extra sauce, by the way, was smashing on some guinea hen meatballs that I made from some left over meat . I think it's probably great on green vegetables too.
So, want something a bit offbeat, that kind of straddles winter and spring? Here you go. And make it during the spring when you can get the baby leeks. I'm looking at modifying it with some fava beans. Sounds good to me.
This is a pasta sauce which, believe it or not, represents a REDUCTION of richness. As I was making it, I was tasting, and it is such a strong tasting sauce that as I looked ahead, I realized that it was going to be 'too much'. Now, coming from the pen of the writer who has said that "wretched excess is barely enough," that is saying something. But bear with me. If you make this - and I hope you will - you will see what I mean.
The ingredients are fairly simple. You need butter and olive oil. 2 tablespoons of the former, and one of the latter. You will also need LOTS of leeks - I would say that six of the monsters you can buy in the supermarket, or up to 12 of the normal sized ones you'll find at the farmers market. You really can't use too many leeks in this recipe. You also need a good dozen cloves of garlic. Use the plump ones. You'll get about six of those from every head of garlic, so do the math. In terms of liquids, you will need either 1.5 cups of chicken stock (or clear vegetable stock), or a cup of stock and half a cup of white wine. As I present this recipe, I will write it as if I were using the wine, but make the substitution. you're smart. You also need half a cup of heavy cream and, if you take this all the way, half a cup of grated pecorino romano cheese. Grate it yourself.
Now, the thing that will take the most time here, is cutting the leeks. Get rid of the dark green part, and then slice the remaining leeks into half moons. It's going to take a while, but it's all worth it. If they are dirty - and they probably will be - dump them in a big pot of water. Peel the garlic. Don't sit there and try to be clinical about this step - just smash em and pull off the skin, then cut the cloves in half.
Got everything together? Ok, let's cook. Get a wide skillet ready and put the fats in it. When the butter has melted, add the leeks, the garlic, a pinch of salt, a pinch of pepper, and lower the heat. Stir this mess a bit, for about five minutes. Now add the half cup of wine, and raise the heat, until it evaporates. If you blink, you'll miss it. Add the rest of the liquid, and lower the heat.
My original recipe calls for putting a sheet of parchment paper on top of this and lowering the heat, and I did in fact do this, but I imagine if you have a tight fitting lid, you'll be fine. The heat should be low, and you'll want to come back and stir this, every five minutes or so, for about 40 minutes.
Taste as you go along and you'll realize how much sugar is in each of these "vegetables." This sauce is going to develop a very strong, sweet, carmelization typ e of flavor. You will not think there's garlic in it. I promise.
You can use this sauce as it is, and perhaps you should. I did then add the half cup of cream, and stirred it until the stuff thickened. Once I tasted it, putting in cheese was out of the question. Indeed, when I used this as a pasta sauce, I added water to thin it, and no one minded.
You will get enough sauce here to serve at least six people. I had doubled the recipe, served 8 folks, and had enough left over to serve 3 more people. The portion size of pasta may seem small at first: you want 3 ounces per person. BUT... given the flavor of the sauce, with or without the cream or cheese, it's very mouth filling and it is really a first course kind of thing.
The extra sauce, by the way, was smashing on some guinea hen meatballs that I made from some left over meat . I think it's probably great on green vegetables too.
So, want something a bit offbeat, that kind of straddles winter and spring? Here you go. And make it during the spring when you can get the baby leeks. I'm looking at modifying it with some fava beans. Sounds good to me.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Spring has sprung: rhubarb cake
And Annalena has been reveling in it. And neglecting her gentle readers. Mi dispiace, as my amici will recognize as an apology immediately.
I have been enjoying the "markers" of spring, even if it is pushing it here in NY. The first local ramps have come in, and that is it. So I have been splurging on importing the stuff from hither and yon, as well as using up what is left of the spring freeze fest. That includes a couple of bags of rhubarb, and that's what this one is all about. That an a dedication to my sweet friend Jeremy. Why? Well, Annalena does not need a reason; but if you want one, because this cake makes me think of Jeremy. The minute I read the recipe it seemed to have his name written all over it, and in honor of Jeremy, who is much more old fashioned than even yours truly, I left behind my kitchen apparatus and did this one by hand. It's a snap. Try it.
My standard rhubarb cake comes from the King Arthur Baking Sheet, and it's called "rhubarb ripple cake." I commend it to you. It is on their website, and it is internal to this blog; however, this new one may be better. It is definitely purer. And again, this reminds me of Jeremy, who in turn reminds me of Parsifal, in so many ways.
Abbastanza. Lets cook. Prheat your oven to 350
You start with 3 cups of all purpose flour. It's not all alike. Use a good, unbleached one, organic if you can. Mix it with a big pinch of salt. Add 3 tablespoons of sugar, and a half teaspoon of baking soda. Now, get a stick of unsalted butter, cut it into pieces, dump it into that flour, and work it in with your fingers, until you get a sandy texture. If you remember, take the butter out half an hour before you're going to make this cake, and it makes things easy. But you don't have to. it's still very easy.
In a separate bowl, combine a half cup of a dairy product and one large egg.. I used yogurt, even though the recipe called for buttermilk. I find that I can substitute yogurt for buttermilk in just about every baking application, and I always have yogurt on hand, never buttermilk. You can "make" buttermilk by adding a tablespoon of white vinegar to whole milk, or you can use whole milk. Or sour cream. SOMETHING. Stir t hese together, and then pour it into the flour mixture and moosh it up with your hands. It's fun, and it's easy. Then divide it in half.
Pat or roll out half to a ten inch circle. If you have a ten inch springform pan, this is very easy to measure. In any event, you can measure ten inches, can't you? Put that into a baking dish of some kind.
Now, here's the fun part. Cut up a pound and a half of rhubarb OR use a pound and a half of frozen, which is what I did. Put that right on top of the dough, and then pour a cup of sugar over that. Now, roll out the rest of the dough, put that on top of the rhubarb, and pinch the edges together.
Take an egg , and beat it with a teaspoon of water, and then paint the top of hte cake with this.
Don't leave out this step. DON'T.
Bake this at 350 for about an hour. You'll see the rhubarb oozing out of the sides, and the cake will get a nice golden color from the egg. The original recipe called for pouring half a cup of sugar onto the top of the cake as soon as it came out of the oven. I did that, but I don't know what good it does, except for decorative effect. And you're done.
I'm going to try this cake again with another fruit - probably frozen blueberries. Got lots of those from last year, too.
And Jeremy, you go and make this better. I know how your mind works and I can see the ginger in the rhubarb already. Or the lemon peel. Or the brown sugar and cardamom. You're the best, sweetheart, and you know it. So I'll call this Jeremy's cake from now on, how's that?
I have been enjoying the "markers" of spring, even if it is pushing it here in NY. The first local ramps have come in, and that is it. So I have been splurging on importing the stuff from hither and yon, as well as using up what is left of the spring freeze fest. That includes a couple of bags of rhubarb, and that's what this one is all about. That an a dedication to my sweet friend Jeremy. Why? Well, Annalena does not need a reason; but if you want one, because this cake makes me think of Jeremy. The minute I read the recipe it seemed to have his name written all over it, and in honor of Jeremy, who is much more old fashioned than even yours truly, I left behind my kitchen apparatus and did this one by hand. It's a snap. Try it.
My standard rhubarb cake comes from the King Arthur Baking Sheet, and it's called "rhubarb ripple cake." I commend it to you. It is on their website, and it is internal to this blog; however, this new one may be better. It is definitely purer. And again, this reminds me of Jeremy, who in turn reminds me of Parsifal, in so many ways.
Abbastanza. Lets cook. Prheat your oven to 350
You start with 3 cups of all purpose flour. It's not all alike. Use a good, unbleached one, organic if you can. Mix it with a big pinch of salt. Add 3 tablespoons of sugar, and a half teaspoon of baking soda. Now, get a stick of unsalted butter, cut it into pieces, dump it into that flour, and work it in with your fingers, until you get a sandy texture. If you remember, take the butter out half an hour before you're going to make this cake, and it makes things easy. But you don't have to. it's still very easy.
In a separate bowl, combine a half cup of a dairy product and one large egg.. I used yogurt, even though the recipe called for buttermilk. I find that I can substitute yogurt for buttermilk in just about every baking application, and I always have yogurt on hand, never buttermilk. You can "make" buttermilk by adding a tablespoon of white vinegar to whole milk, or you can use whole milk. Or sour cream. SOMETHING. Stir t hese together, and then pour it into the flour mixture and moosh it up with your hands. It's fun, and it's easy. Then divide it in half.
Pat or roll out half to a ten inch circle. If you have a ten inch springform pan, this is very easy to measure. In any event, you can measure ten inches, can't you? Put that into a baking dish of some kind.
Now, here's the fun part. Cut up a pound and a half of rhubarb OR use a pound and a half of frozen, which is what I did. Put that right on top of the dough, and then pour a cup of sugar over that. Now, roll out the rest of the dough, put that on top of the rhubarb, and pinch the edges together.
Take an egg , and beat it with a teaspoon of water, and then paint the top of hte cake with this.
Don't leave out this step. DON'T.
Bake this at 350 for about an hour. You'll see the rhubarb oozing out of the sides, and the cake will get a nice golden color from the egg. The original recipe called for pouring half a cup of sugar onto the top of the cake as soon as it came out of the oven. I did that, but I don't know what good it does, except for decorative effect. And you're done.
I'm going to try this cake again with another fruit - probably frozen blueberries. Got lots of those from last year, too.
And Jeremy, you go and make this better. I know how your mind works and I can see the ginger in the rhubarb already. Or the lemon peel. Or the brown sugar and cardamom. You're the best, sweetheart, and you know it. So I'll call this Jeremy's cake from now on, how's that?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)