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Do you watch Top Chef? I've been a fan since the show premiered six seasons ago, and although I haven't found the show as interesting as I did during it's first few seasons, I continue to watch because despite the entertainment deficit, the talent's stock has definitely gone up (not to mention that even at its worst, it's light years better than all of the other food competition shows--I'm looking at you Next Food Network Star). After a few seasons of ho-hum contestants and no clear front-runners, this season's cast boasts several executive chefs, James Beard Award nominees, and a duo of DC-area brothers whose dishes never disappoint. The cast runs fairly young, but you wouldn't know it from their performance and the sophisticated dishes many of them churn out week after week. There's finally been a clear top few since this season began, and those in that limited club have rarely faltered.
That was of course until the most recent episode last week. The gang was asked to cook a great meal for a special guest at head judge Tom Colicchio's Las Vegas resto CraftSteak. They all immediately began plotting how to attack a meat heavy menu when in typical reality show fashion, they sprung vegan shoe designing vegetarian Natalie Portman on the disappointed pack. Somehow managing to make gorgeous, seasonal produce look like overcooked side dishes from The Sizzler, chef after chef presented poorly executed, poorly thought out dishes to the diners. While I am generally quite the fan of meaty meals, I take my vegetables seriously as well. I typically make 2-3 vegetarian dinners a week that do a perfectly good job of leaving me full and satisfied while also being tasty (if I do say so myself). How most of these chefs failed to manage that with far more at their fingertips than is available to me on any given day is a mystery. While the chefs were bombarded with their true mission minutes before executing, I can't believe that so many of them managed to completely forget that by losing their meat element they were also losing protein, an integral part of any dish, vegetarian or not. While I'm not a chef, I do know that when I'm planning a meatless meal I do my best to incorporate a protein and a starch any way I can--it's really balance that's key for any hearty and satisfying meal, regardless of whether there's meat. Fall is actually a great time for healthy, filling vegetarian meals since we have everything from brussels sprouts and beets to squash, pomegranate and eggplant, not to mention all types of potatoes. I like to take braising greens to task since there's an abundance of kale, collards and swiss chard, not to mention beet, turnip and mustard greens this time of year. I'm shocked that not one chef used legumes (well...one tried, but her fresh garbanzo beans were a flop) since they not only pair extremely well with greens, but are packed full of protein. There was just one risotto on the side and no fresh pasta at all, both starches being excellent potential platforms for all of that fresh produce.
And so, last week, inspired by the Top Chef challenge I made what I think is a tasty and filling vegetarian dinner of kale, chick peas and turnips. I served it with a side of couscous and some crunchy oven roasted brussels sprouts to start (if you leave them in there long enough they'll crisp up into crunchy, rotund chips, like over-sized wasabi peas). This is a fast and affordable take on Kevin's winning dish, which consisted of a mushroom duo with smoked kale and a candied ginger and turnip puree. Having received both kale and turnips in my CSA it was the perfect inspiration. Trying to use only what was in my fridge and pantry (since I certainly cannot afford morels and they're out of season anyway) I decided to make one hearty dish that consisted of the kale, turnips and a can of chick peas (but white beans or even lentils would have been tasty too!) sauteed with garlic and accented with a little apple cider vinegar. It turned out great and I can definitely say that I was stuffed afterward. Here's my final recipe, and here's hoping that the final six on the show catch some wind in their sails, because I expect more!
Sauteed Kale with Turnips and Chick Peas
1 lb kale, stems removed and leaves chopped
3 medium sized turnips, peeled and roughly diced, greens also chopped
1 15 oz can chickpeas (or cooked dried chickpeas) drained and rinsed
2 large garlic cloves, thinly sliced
3 Tbsp apple cider vinegar
extra virgin olive oil (about 3 Tbsp)
1 Tbsp butter
salt
black pepper
1. Heat olive oil, butter and garlic in a large, non-stick skillet. Cook on medium low heat 30 seconds (garlic should not brown) then add turnips. Cook until just starting to soften, about 2 minutes.
2. Add kale in batches until it all fits in the pan. Season generously with salt and black pepper, then add chick peas, cider vinegar and turnip greens, tossing to coat. Continue cooking on medium heat, tossing occasionally until kale is cooked, another 2-3 minutes. Taste for seasoning and adjust accordingly (kale often needs a lot more salt and acid than other greens). Enjoy!
-Laura
I haven't had the chance to post about this sooner, but I'm sure that most of you have heard that Gourmet magazine has folded, it's final issue hitting newsstands this month. As someone who puts together magazines for a living, the news was devastating, traveling through my office like the world's most depressing game of telephone where everyone hopes they've misunderstood. But aside from the fact that with every magazine that closes my industry's survival rate drops dramatically, this particular closure hit me on a deeper level. I've worked for some wonderful magazines comprised of hard-working people who really manage to pull out some great work considering the kind of deadlines we work under month after month. But whenever someone asked me what magazine I'd most like to work for, the answer was always Gourmet.
From the photography to the philosophy, it's the mainstream magazine that most embodied what I believe in from a food point of view. I've always been a huge fan of its editor-in-chief, Ruth Reichl, and loved reading her books chronicling her time as the New York Times' controversial restaurant critic in the 90's. Her book Garlic and Sapphires talks about how she came to her job at Gourmet and how she initially felt quite undeserving of the position. What some considered her "radical" ideas were just what the magazine needed to bring in a young and informed audience looking for more than just a digest of recipes. From hiring writers like the late David Foster Wallace to investigating food slavery, Reichl not only invigorated the magazine with important and timely content, but made it clear that it wasn't a magazine about restaurants or chefs, but about food and the people that are affecting it.
And so it's apropos that as the Thanksgiving-themed final issue hit stands, I learned that I'd be cooking and hosting my first Thanksgiving dinner. While I've combed my stacks (and stacks, and stacks, and stacks...) of food magazines looking for ideas on how to make this Thanksgiving special, I continue to turn to my piles of Gourmet for inspiration. As someone who appreciates the magazine from all facets, whether it be as a magazine professional, a food stylist or an avid reader, I'm making myself a promise to keep Gourmet in mind this Thanksgiving. They have an excellent cookbook that also just hit bookstores and that I'm eager to peruse in person, not to mention the new PBS series, Gourmet's Adventures with Ruth. If you'd like to hear more from Ruth in the aftermath of the magazine folding, NPR had a great interview with her where she discusses food, the magazine and her recent memoir. I really enjoyed hearing her touch on what she would have done had she known the November issue would be not only her last, but the magazine's. Listen to that interview here, and I'll be back posting more recipes and updates on my Thanksgiving meal planning.
-Laura
A few weeks ago I visited the New Amsterdam Market in downtown Manhattan. Standing in the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge, this multi-purveyor, outdoor market is a tribute to the great old market halls of New York which operated much in the fashion of the now (sadly) defunct Les Halles market in Paris, bringing affordable, trustworthy and locally sourced products to the masses. The stalls at New Amsterdam are made up of vendors who source their food and products directly from the farmers and producers who create them. From the excellent butchers of Brooklyn to the cheesemongers of Manhattan and all of the purveyors in between, the market provided me with a lot of culinary inspiration, in addition to encouraging me to spend, spend, spend. Among my many purchases were fresh tomatillos (10 for $1.00!), two jalapeños (for a mere 28 cents) the cheese I used for my roasted tomato soup and grilled cheese dinner a while back, and a big bag of farro. While I'll admit the farro was a bit of an impulse purchase, I'd heard so much about it in recent months that I couldn't resist.
Before rice, corn, and spelt, there was farro, the grain that once fed the entire Mediterranean and that has recently been touted as "the forgotten grain". Southern Europe (Italy especially) subsisted on this super nutty and chewy ingredient for thousands of years before trade brought rice to the continent and corn crossed the Atlantic (it's said to have fed the Roman legions across Europe). There was no risotto or polenta in Italy, no paella in Spain, just cooked or ground farro, which was often eaten porridge style, much like polenta is today. Sadly for farro it's a low-yielding crop, meaning that high volume new world crops likes corn and rice didn't have much trouble kicking it to the curb. In addition to providing more bang for the ancient buck, the new grains were also faster to prepare and infinitely more versatile. But thanks to innovative and health-minded chefs, farro has made a comeback outside of northern Italian cooking (where it's considered a regional mainstay). Farro is a hulled wheat, and much like brown rice, the protective outer bran layer remains on the grain, meaning that it is not only less processed than many grains, but also much more nutritious with a chewier texture.
As a lover of quinoa, couscous and all quick cooking carbs I must admit that farro's lengthy cooking time does not please me. In addition to taking 50 minutes to a hour to cook it also requires soaking beforehand in order to cut the cooking time down (not unlike what one does with dried legumes). Despite these characteristics I've come to enjoy farro very much. It's highly flavorful on it's own, with a deep nutty flavor stronger than that of brown rice, and with an even harder bite that makes it seem permanently al dente. Its flavor makes farro a perfect foil for steaks or meats with a good deal of gravy or sauce for sopping. It won't absorb all the liquid so your meat stays moist, but it adds a nice companion flavor so you can easily compose the perfect bite. I made mine to go with a steak and a light sherry-mushroom gravy. I added in a few turnips and their greens at the last minute, which made for a really well rounded meal. Even though it won't serve me well for last minute dinners the way other grains do, I'll definitely keep farro in mind when I'm planning my next meaty meal (I'm thinking maybe for the next time I tackle duck...).
Farro
1 cup farro
4 cups water or stock
1 tsp salt
1 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil
1. Place farro in a large bowl and cover generously with cold water. Allow to soak for at least an hour (you can even leave it overnight).
2. Drain farro well. Heat olive oil in a pot and add farro. Saute for 2-3 minutes then add water or stock and salt and bring to a boil. Cook covered until farro is tender but al dente, 45 minutes to an hour (the cook time will depend on how long you allowed it to soak). Drain and serve. Enjoy!
*For my favorite way to eat farro, reserve a little bit of the water/stock after draining. Return the farro to its pot and fold in your favorite greens (kale is perfect) and cook over medium-low heat, adding water/stock 1/4 cup at a time if necessary. Cook covered until the kale is done.
-Laura
I've always thought people were full of it when they said, "...you either love it or you hate it!" about pretty much anything. I mean, I'm sure there are plenty of people who aren't passionate either way about corn, Dancing with the Stars or leggings, among other things. But I finally realized that there was indeed one thing people really felt torn on: licorice. I have yet to meet anyone that shrugs their shoulders and says, 'eh' when asked if they like it (and if it's you, please let me know), instead always hearing proclamations of disgust or lust. I've always hated anything that tasted remotely of licorice, whether it was a jelly bean, sambuca or grilled fennel. But thanks to my CSA and the overall seasonal eating trend I've come face to face with fennel in more iterations than I care to remember. From cold fennel shooters to grilled fennel salad and fennel pollen dusted sweetbreads, try as I might to escape it each fall I can't, and last week it caught up with me in my CSA box. For once I hoped that I'd arrived too late, that all of the fennel had been taken by the licorice loving foodies of the group, but alas it seemed there was plenty left for me to experiment with. So I trotted home with it in my tote and began to wonder what I could possibly do with one of my most hated flavors.
I eventually settled on a soup since that was the one fennel flavored dish I had ever managed to enjoy. I looked back on the fennel soup I'd tasted almost exactly a year ago at Blue Hill at Stone Barns for inspiration. Our server had asked if there were any ingredients we did not like, and not wanting to limit the chef's creativity (even though I knew it was fennel season), we said no--we're open to anything. So imagine how far my heart sank when the first course to come out of the kitchen was a bowl of fennel soup. Much to my surprise it was pure white and velvety on the tongue with just the lightest air of fennel. It wasn't in-your-face fennel but its presence was definitely felt and tasted. Except for a handful of things (say...bacon or cheese) I generally feel that everything in moderation is a good mantra to follow and it seems like fennel is at its best when used in that way.
Armed with the memory of a soup I hadn't tasted in a year, I headed into the kitchen to make what I hoped would be a close approximation in both flavor and texture to the one at Blue Hill. In the end I decided that potato would be the perfect foil for softening the fennel's flavor and adding some body to the whole soup. I began by peeling and chopping the potatoes into fairly small chunks (so they take only 10-15 minutes to cook through) and then boiling them in salted water. Meanwhile I added 2 chopped scallions (for a mellow onion flavor), 2 roughly chopped garlic cloves and the chopped fennel to a non-stick skillet with two tablespoons of butter. I seasoned the mixture lightly with salt and let it sweat until everything was softened. Then I drained the potatoes, reserving 2 cups of the cooking liquid for thinning out the soup in the blender. Then I tossed the potatoes and the fennel mixture into the blender along with 1 cup of chicken stock to help it blend. Then I slowly added the warm cooking liquid until I got a silky smooth texture. It didn't even end up needing any salt or pepper, and it came together in about half an hour total. The soup wound up tasting exactly as I'd wanted. It was clearly a creamy fennel soup (with no actual cream), but the flavor was subtle and smooth. I can't say that I'm completely in love with fennel, but like so many things (Britney Spears, perhaps?) I've learned to live with it's existence, and even enjoy it in small doses. Here's the final recipe:
Creamy Fennel Soup
1 small fennel bulb, roughly chopped
2 green onions/scallions, chopped
2 garlic cloves, roughly chopped
2 large or 3 small Idaho potatoes, peeled and cut into chunks
2 Tbsp butter
1 cup chicken stock (non-tomato based veggie stock would work here too)
1. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add potatoes and cook until done, about 15 minutes.
2. Meanwhile, heat the butter in a non-stick skillet and cook garlic, green onions and fennel on medium low heat until softened, about 7 minutes. Season with salt while cooking
3. Drain the potatoes, reserving about 2 cups of the cooking liquid for the soup. Allow them a few minutes to cool, then add potatoes and fennel mixture to a blender along with the chicken stock. Puree and add reserved cooking liquid until the soup thins out to a velvety consistency. Taste for salt and serve topped with croutons or fennel fronds. Enjoy!
-Laura
I've long been told that grilled cheese and tomato soup is a common and beloved kid meal, even though I've never actually seen one eat it, let alone beg for it or demonstrate the kind of enthusiasm that comes pouring out for pizza, hamburgers and french fries. But then again I grew up in a home with foreign parents who made me slightly more exotic lunchtime treats like chickpeas with spinach and cod or chicken liver paté on toast. And while those definitely don't sound like kid-pleasers, the gift of hindsight has shown me that I was probably a total weirdo as a tyke. I've never really loved tomato soup, especially the overly seasoned and highly spiced ones I typically find in most restaurants (it turns out that you can definitely have too much oregano). But I do love gazpacho and this summer I had the best tomato soup of my life at The Harrison in Tribeca, here in downtown NYC. So as I mulled over what to do with the last of summer's tomatoes, I figured I should finally try my hand at making a good tomato soup--and to pair it with my own grilled cheese.
The first order of business was to elevate the meal to a more "grown-up" level. That came easy for the soup since all I had to do was take a page from the sublime soup at The Harrison, where the tomatoes were roasted until they were black and deflated, folding over on themselves, developing a sweeter more complex flavor. It made all the difference in the world, lending a smoky essence to the soup that hit your nose before the plate even hit the table. Flecked with minute pieces of char, the orange colored soup was full of fresh tomato flavor with a hint of roasted garlic. To achieve the same effect I tossed three fat garlic cloves--skins still on--onto the baking sheet with the tomatoes. The garlic took on a sweet, roasted flavor that balanced perfectly with the slightly acidic tomatoes. And the easiest part was that all I had to do was toss everything on a baking sheet with the tiniest bit of olive oil. After about 45 minutes my tomatoes were blistered and worn, and the garlic soft and sweet. After a few minutes of cooling time I threw everything in the blender and pureed it with some shallots and herbs that I quickly sauteed while the tomatoes cooled, slowly adding chicken stock when necessary (my tomatoes were plenty juicy, so I mostly added more liquid to help the blender do its thing).
Once that was done I moved on to the sandwich, which for my purposes took on the form of a garlic and butter slicked cheese bread instead of a traditional sandwich. By eliminating the other piece of bread I not only removed the added carb-factor, but I also made what can be considered and extra large crouton that was perfect for dipping into the soup. It was your basic garlic, butter and parsley slathered bread that I topped with a delicious raw cow and goats milk cheese (also sprinkled onto the center of the soup just before serving). So in the end I was unbelievably happy with the results. The Harrison's soup had an even more intense flavor than mine did, but without harassing the kitchen staff which runs a seasonal kitchen and no longer serves the soup, I don't expect to ever get their exact recipe. Regardless, I found that I was certainly converted to a tomato soup fan, albeit one with somewhat high standards at the moment. But I'm sure I'll get there, and hopefully this little experiment will encourage others to find the kid in them and put their childhood dishes to the grown-up test. Here's the final recipe for the soup:
Roasted Tomato Soup
2 lbs tomatoes, quartered
3 garlic cloves, unpeeled
1 large (or two very) small shallots, chopped
1/4 tsp dried oregano
1/4 tsp dried thyme
1 1/2 cups chicken or vegetable broth (low sodium if possible)
extra virgin olive oil
salt
pepper
1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Spread tomatoes (skin side down) and garlic out on an aluminum foil lined tin and drizzle very lightly with olive oil. Bake for 45 minutes to 1 hour, or until tomatoes are wilted and browned. Set them aside to cool.
2. Meanwhile, saute the shallots, oregano and thyme in 1 tablespoon of olive oil until softened and fragrant. Puree mixture in a blender along with the tomatoes and garlic. Slowly add in broth 1/4 of a cup at a time until the desired consistency is reached. Run soup through a fine mesh strainer or sieve and into a pot to reheat. Taste for salt and pepper and serve. Enjoy!
-Laura
It's rare that I'm ahead of the game where produce is concerned since lately I'm at the mercy of the CSA and our wacky Northeast weather patterns, but it seems that recently I struck gold. During our most recent distribution we got the lovely little patty pan squashes pictured above--not surprising since the weather here in New York just started to turn chilly. They're not all that different from any other yellow late summer or early fall squash, but as you can see, their shape is quite distinctive. They can range in size from fairly small (about golf ball sized) to as large as a softball. My batch was gorgeous and ran the gamut of sizes. Texture-wise they're not like the fall gourds that we call squash (pumpkins, acorn and butternut squash, etc...), instead resembling zucchini or summer squash in both texture and flavor. They're thin skinned and work just as well peeled or not, and they cook up just as quickly as they're summer squash brethren.
If you can find them I'd suggest doing everything from tossing them into pasta with lots of garlic and fresh herbs, to grilling them, or mixing them with other veggies for a tasty vegetarian quesadilla like I did (I sauteed mine with meaty portobello mushrooms and earthy cumin with a pinch of chile powder). They're great on pizzas too, or even blended into a vichyssoise-esque soup with potatoes and leeks, where they can lend a hint of sweetness (serve it hot or cold, your choice). You can even roast them whole or halved in the oven (the little ones are great this way) and served alongside a roast chicken. Or take that roasted flavor and puree it with chicken stock and a potato or two for a warm winter soup topped with stinky cheese and bacon, chive and creme fraîche, or a delicious herb oil. If you like tarts these guys make perfect foils. Slice them thin and fan like you would an apple, only on top of cheese or sauce instead of on a sweet concoction. It could be anything from a bechamel to a tomato sauce or just cream cheese.
They may seem confusing at first, but there's actually a lot to be done with any kind of squash, especially these because their soft texture lends itself to quick cooking techniques. I haven't even mentioned ratatouille or minestrone, but these guys pair really well with tomato sauce and tomato based soups. Try replacing eggplant with patty pans in a vegetarian lasagna and you'll find it works just as well if not better (I prefer their flavor to the often times bitter flavor of eggplant). There's no real recipe today, just a few words on patty pans in case you start seeing them around your market. Don't be afraid to pick some up and experiment--there's way more to be done with them than what I've suggested. And if you do give them a try, let me know what you did--I'd love to hear what other people are doing with them!
-Laura
As I've mentioned before, pastry is not my forte. I generally avoid baking, anything involving the words dough or batter, and I can, on very rare occasions, be seen getting enthusiastic about sweets--usually donuts and the occasional pie. So it may seem odd that I was so strongly drawn to a recipe that involved a pie crust and baking. And while I won't say it wasn't without it's petty annoyances (did I mention I don't even own a rolling pin?), the true minimal effort of this recipe was well worth it for the results. After all, who doesn't want to walk through the door after a long day to the smell of a tart in the oven? I have to admit I thoroughly enjoyed flipping channels and scanning a few magazines while the smell of a lightly browning pie crust and slowly melting cheese wafted through the air. It was such a pleasant and unfamiliar smell in my home--which is generally peppered with the aromas of paprika, bacon and garlic--that I almost forgot they were my doing.
While basking in the scents of traditional home cookery was great, there was a supermarket shortcut involved that explains the recipe's appeal. It made use of frozen pie crust, which much like frozen puff pastry, can be an excellent shortcut for an impressive meal. While homemade pie crust isn't nearly as difficult or as involved as making puff pastry from scratch, I do think it's worth using as a time saver for both quick dinners and entertaining. There's nothing worse than entertaining and spending all your time in the kitchen. By making a tart with store bought pie crust you're saving wildly on time so you'll be composed and sweat-free by the time your guests arrive to a calm house filled to the brim with the scent of baking. Some people think of it as cheating, and that's fine, because it's what you put into the tart that counts, and I think seasonal veggies and delicious cheeses more than make up for one supermarket purchase. After all, as much as I preach about organic vegetables and using great ingredients, I do believe the secret to pretty much everything is moderation. Despite what we know about how bad canned foods can be for you, I also think if you're using one or two cans of rinsed beans every few weeks you're probably okay--however, if you're popping open a Chef Boyardee or Hormel chili every night, you might want to check out this article and rethink it.
But on to the good stuff. Other than some issues with rolling out the dough (what with using a wine bottle and all), the prep was a breeze. The zucchini chops up quickly, and the potatoes slice pretty fast as well (if you're not so good with a knife you can use a mandolin or the slicing attachment on your food processor). After quickly sauteing everything in a large pan you just toss in the cheese and herbs and fill the crust with the mixture. I added in a few dollops of ricotta (not in the original recipe) for color and flavor, since I'm a sucker for any kind of white pizza or gooey tart. All that was left was to bake, which took about and hour. Other than periodically checking in to make sure the crust wasn't burning, I pretty much sat back and relaxed. It even made my day when a friend stopped by and commented on how great dinner smelled. So if you want a quick meal that will impress anyone, give this one a go. It makes use of smart shortcuts and fresh ingredients for a dish that I can say with certainty won't disappoint. And you could easily make multiples (I made 2) if you happen to be entertaining.
Potato, Leak and Feta Tart
adapted from Real Simple
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 leeks (white and light green parts), cut into half-moons
2 small zucchini, cut into half-moons
kosher salt and black pepper
1/2 cup crumbled feta (about 2 ounces)
2 tablespoons chopped fresh dill
2 Red Bliss potatoes (8 ounces), thinly sliced
1 store-bought 9-inch pie crust
4-5 tablespoons ricotta
1. Heat oven to 375º F. Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the leeks, zucchini,1/2 teaspoon salt, and 1/2 teaspoon pepper and cook, stirring occasionally, until just tender, 4 to 5 minutes. Stir in the feta and dill. Add the potatoes and toss to combine.
2. On a piece of parchment paper, roll the pie crust to a 12-inch diameter. Slide the paper onto a baking sheet. Spoon the potato mixture onto the pie crust, leaving a 2-inch border. Fold the edge of the pie crust over the edge of the potato mixture. Dollop the top with a few tablespoons of ricotta cheese. Bake (covering with foil if the crust gets too dark) until the pie crust is golden brown and the potatoes are tender, 50 to 60 minutes.
-Laura
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