Springtime Socca

Socca, farinita, torta di ceci, cecina.  I've never been to Nice and I didn't run across this treat in the few days I was in Liguria this past summer, but let me tell you; my recent discovery of these savory chickpea crepes is the perfect base for whipping up a simple spring dinner. A quick search tells me there are a million different variations on socca - paper thin and lacy, pancake-like, chopped soft herbs mixed into the batter, baked or broiled - and there are probably strong opinions from all sides on the proper way to make socca, but I'll take them in any form.  With a slight nutty and bean-y flavor, the savory possibilities for enjoyment are practically endless. [Note: I tried them topped with a bit of nut butter and honey one morning and wasn't totally sold on them in their sweet iteration.]

I've been terrible these past few weeks in shopping the farmer's market with a clear dinner plan for the upcoming days.  Instead I've been scooping all the new spring produce into my arms and cobbling together meal plans on the fly.  Even though it's just San Francisco and the winter "season" isn't all that much to write about, months still pass where all you see are dark leafy greens, piles of citrus and the earth tones of root vegetables, it's hard not to get giddy about spring's new crop of offerings. Pea tendrils! Strawberries! Fava beans! Snap and shelling peas! Radishes! Baby carrots!

Armed with a fridge newly full of vegetables and a bag of Bob's Red Mill chickpea flour, I figured I'd give socca for dinner a go.  The pea shoots were roughly torn, the favas slipped out of their pods, quickly blanched and then popped out of their jackets, avocado was sliced and a handful of pine nuts was toasted.  I made a quick dressing of some very nice balsamic vinegar and walnut oil and the salad was done.  I went with a thicker, more pancake-like version of socca so I could slice it into triangles and put the salad over the top and not need to worry about the sog factor, but stuffing the salad into a thinner crepe would be just as nice.  The only advance planning needed here is to let the socca batter sit for about an hour to let the bean flour absorb the water and make it a nice pourable consistency.  Do this before you shell the favas, toast the pine nuts, and assemble the salad and the timing should work out to where there isn't too much waiting around.

Springtime Socca

There is so much you could do with this recipe - add in a handful of chopped herbs like basil, mint, tarragon or parsley to the socca batter, thinly sliced radishes would be a pretty addition to the salad portion, use shelling peas instead of favas, arugula instead of pea tendrils, and I think some fresh goat cheese dolloped over the top or crumbled feta would really take this to the next level.  Play around.  Try the socca as thicker, sliced pancakes or tuck the salad into a folded over thin crepe

4 servings (either 2 thick socca divided or 4 thinner crepes)

1 cup chickpea flour

1 cup water

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 1/2 tablespoons olive oil, plus more for cooking

8 oz pea tendrils, roughly torn

1 pound fava beans, shelled, blanched and slipped out of their skins

1 avocado, sliced

1/4 cup pinenuts, toasted

1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar

1 tablespoon walnut oil

salt & pepper

2 soft boiled eggs (optional)

In a bowl, mix the chickpea flour, water, salt and olive oil with a whisk until smooth. Set aside for about an hour. If you are adding a handful of chopped herbs, add that in too before whisking.

Wash, dry and gently tear the pea tendrils into manageable salad pieces and put into a bowl.  Remove the favas from their pod and set a small pot of salted water to boil on the stove. [To make the shelling easier, run a Y-shaped vegetable peeler down one of the seam sides of the pod, they should now open easily as you run your finger down and pop the beans out.] Once the water is boiling, blanch the favas for about 2 minutes, or until they all rise to the surface of the water and you can hear a slight hissing sound.  Drain and rinse under cold water to stop the cooking, then pop the beans out of their jackets and into your bowl of pea tendrils.  Toast your pine nuts in a small skillet over medium heat until  golden and slice your avocado.

Heat a small skillet (mine is 8" across) over medium high heat and coat the bottom of the pan with olive oil.  If making a thicker socca, pour half the batter into the pan and cook until the bottom begins to brown, about 3-4 minutes.  Carefully flip it over and cook the other side for another 2-3 minutes until the edges are crispy and both sides are a deep golden in spots.  Remove from pan onto a cutting board and repeat for second half of batter.  Use the same technique for the thinner crepes, using just 1/4 of the batter each time and reduce the cooking time by about a minute per side.  Cut thicker socca into 4 pieces each (2 triangles per plate) or place one of the thinner crepes flat on each plate.

Dress the pea tendrils and fava beans with the balsamic vinegar and walnut oil and season with salt and pepper.  Divide between the 4 plates and top each with some sliced avocado, toasted pine nuts and sliced soft boiled egg if using.  For the thinner crepes, place the salad on one half of socca and fold the other half over after topping the salad.

Mung Bean Dal

I am a compulsive cabinet opener and refrigerator rummager.  When I'm at home and think that I might be getting hungry, or even if I'm not hungry but instead just bored, I will open and close all the food storage places in my kitchen and promptly declare that there is "no food in this house". This is an activity I'll partake in countless times each day.  D does the same, though not quite as frequently. And, embarrassed as I may be to admit this, I'll poke around in pretty much anyone's kitchen if we know each other well enough, except I won't announce there is no food to be had.  I'll instead be delighted at all the new options before me.  It's a bad habit and a waste of energy, but that hasn't stopped me yet.

Now picture this: it's Monday and the weather outside is doing it's very best at being discouraging with rain and hail and thunderstorms. I had played the rummaging game at least five times, and five times convinced myself there was no food in the house, yet there was still dinner to be made.  I could run to the store and get dinner provisions, but that would mean braving the weather and possibly losing my parking spot right out front.  Not into it.  Take out?  Just couldn't get excited about that either. I can be so cheap sometimes. And then - I don't know the exact sequence of events that took place - I must have stumbled across an idea online while moping that made me remember the (huge) stash of Indian pantry items in the often overlooked corner of cabinets which then turned into a brainstorming session and voila!  A mung bean dal with homemade roti was slapped onto the evening's menu.

I won't try and vouch for authenticity here (I mean really, I put kale in the damn thing), and it's not much of a looker, but it makes up for all of that in tasty. Yes, I cut corners; used green onions instead of diced yellow onion, ground ginger and cayenne instead of their fresh counterparts.  Like I said, I really didn't want to leave the house.  I also wasn't following any kind of recipe here.  After a quick search confirmed that mung bean dal was indeed a thing, I just kind of improvised from there.  Except the roti, I used a recipe/tutorial for that.

The dal was earthy from the turmeric and sizzled cumin seeds, and I love the way the mung beans start breaking down after cooking just past the point of doneness and thicken it all up.  A few big handfuls of thinly sliced kale into the mix for virtue and you could hardly ask for more on a rainy evening.

Mung Bean Dal

I'm writing the recipe here not quite as I made it, but with fewer shortcuts than I took, though I don't imagine it'll make a huge difference in the final product.  I tried spooning a dollop of yogurt into the last half of my bowl, but I found it muted the flavors more than I'd like.  However, if you've got it around, a good sprinkle of cilantro right at the end would probably be nice.

4 (smallish) servings

1 cup dried mung beans
4 cups water
1 tablespoon butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 teaspoon cumin seeds
1/2 yellow onion, diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon finely minced or pasted ginger root
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 teaspoon turmeric
salt to taste (about 1/2 teaspoon)
2 cups finely sliced dino kale
juice of half a lemon

Sort through the beans to make sure there aren't any stones, then rinse under cold water and drain. In a medium sized pot, add the rinsed mung beans and cover with 4 cups of water.  Bring to a boil and then reduce heat to low and cover, cooking for about 30 minutes, or until they begin to soften and just fall apart.  You may have to check the water level a few times and give it all a stir to keep things from sticking to the bottom of the pan, but just add in enough water to get things moving again and you should be fine.

Once the mung beans are done cooking, in another medium sauté pan (I just transferred the beans to bowl, washed the pot and reused it), melt the butter and olive oil over medium heat.  Add in the cumin seeds and as soon as they start to sizzle add the diced onion and give it a good stir.  Cook until the onion is translucent then add in the garlic and ginger and cook for 1 minute more.  Add turmeric and cayenne and give the whole thing a few good stirs until everything becomes real fragrant then add the mung beans, scraping the bottom of the pan to get all the good bits off.  Add about a 1/2 teaspoon salt and taste to see if it needs more.  At this point, you may want to evaluate the thickness of your dal.  If you want it looser, add a bit more water 1/4 cup at a time, if you want it thicker, simmer it for a few minutes more.  Once you've reached a consistency you like, toss in your kale and squeeze half a lemon's worth of juice into the whole thing and stir to combine.

Serve with roti or naan and maybe a sprinkle of chopped cilantro too.

Over and Over

I am a creature of habit through and through; spontaneity is not my strong suit. I like knowing what my day will be like tomorrow before I go to bed, I make lists, plan and make alternate plans just in case. And when I find a recipe I like, it takes over all the other food ideas I had in my head and I start obsessing about making it over and over and over. It wasn't always this way - it seems to be getting worse as I get older.  Sigh.

My kitchen routine has been a steady repertoire of Ottolenghi and Heidi Swanson recipes as of late and I refuse to apologize for that. Except maybe to the other cookbooks that sit neglected on my shelf and the countless recipe ideas I've pinned with the best of intentions. I'll be back for you.

In the mean time, let's all contemplate this dish from Ottolenghi and Tamimi's Jerusalem. This pasta is absolutely the stuff dreams are made of. I can't decide what I'm more enamored with - using greek yogurt as a base for the sauce or the deeply toasted pine nuts in chile oil or just the name of the pasta shape. Conchiglie. Kohn-KEE-lyeh. I know you just said that out loud a few times. Isn't it a fun word to say?

The seashells are the perfect shape for grabbing onto and enveloping the sweet peas, small chunks of feta and a spicy pine nut or two. A last minute and slow folding in of the yogurt sauce ensures that it doesn't break or curdle and the torn basil adds a perfect and herbaceous aromatic element. By the time this pasta is on your plate it's just this side of warm, which is perfect for a spring evening or an al fresco dinner.  Now I forget what it was that I had decided to make for dinner tonight.

Pasta with Yogurt, Peas, and Chile
Adapted slightly from Jerusalem, by Yotam Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi

4 servings

I've scaled down this recipe by half and made a few tinkering adjustments here and there and still found that it was plenty for 4 people. You could use another pasta shape like orecchiette or rigatoni, but really, the seashells are more fun.

6 ounces Greek yogurt
1/4 cup olive oil
1 medium clove of garlic, crushed or pressed
1/2 pound frozen peas
Kosher salt
1/2 pound conchiglie
Scant 1/4 cup pine nuts
1 teaspoons Aleppo chile, or red pepper flakes
3/4 cup basil leaves, coarsely torn
4 ounces feta cheese, coarsely crumbled

In the bowl of a food processor, combine the yogurt, 2 tablespoons of the olive oil, the garlic, and 1/3 cup of the peas. Process to a uniform pale green sauce, and transfer to a large mixing bowl.

Bring a large pot of water to a boil, and salt it. Add the pasta, and cook until it is al dente. While the pasta cooks, warm the remaining olive oil in a small frying pan over medium-low heat. Add the pine nuts and chile, and cook for 4 minutes, or until the pine nuts are golden and the oil is deep red.

Put the frozen peas into a colander and pour the hot pasta and water over to drain Shake it well to get rid of excess water that may have settled into the pasta’s crevices. Add the pasta and peas gradually to the yogurt sauce; adding it all at once may cause the yogurt to separate. Add the the basil, feta, and a pinch of kosher salt. Toss gently. Serve immediately, with pine nuts and chile oil spooned over each serving.

It's Been a Journey

It's daunting to sit down again and type.  To think of everything that has happened since my last post, all the excuses I have for abandoning this space, all the food that's been cooked, everything that has changed and all that hasn't.  I think about that, and then I try to figure out how best to re-enter this little world.  I'm drawing a blank.  A big fat blank.

But I check the stats every so often and it seems, however incomprehensibly, there are still those of you who still stumble upon these pages of my past.  I get the occasional nudges from friends or family who'd like to see this blog resurrected - how is it that you haven't given up entirely?  I didn't mean to leave you hanging.

So, let's give this one more go, yeah?

I thought about dredging up some older recipes and just playing a bit of catch up, but that idea poses a few problems.  1) I pretty much stopped taking pictures of what I was making except for a few random Instagram snaps.  I'm not trying to recreate past social media feeds in this space.  2) There's a very high chance that the recipes I really want to tell you about would be seasonally inappropriate at this juncture.  Zucchini noodles in the dead of February?   I wish.  You'll just have to wait.  In the meantime I offer you a compromise.  A new-to-me recipe with an iPhone photo!  (Baby steps, okay.)

Radicchio, and chicories in general, are fast becoming one of my favorite winter ingredients.  They bring a refreshing pop of color when we're buried in a sea of earth tones and deep green at the market.  Their bitterness balances out the hearty, fatty dishes we crave as the temperatures drop.  And if you've never grilled radicchio or escarole before you're truly missing out.  Their sharp bite of bitter softens and new flavors of smoke and caramelized sweetness come out to play.

Here, however, there is just raw and vibrant radicchio.  We want it's natural bite, it's bitterness tamed by creamy cannellini beans, rotisserie chicken and the bright snap of a parsley-lemon vinaigrette.  A few stalks of thinly sliced celery and some scallions for good measure and dinner is served.  It's preparation is simple, but the flavors are not.  It's earthy, but lively.  This is the kind of salad you keep diving your fork into, bite after bite, until there's nothing left on the plate.  This will get you out of your winter rut.

White Bean and Radicchio Salad with Parsley Vinaigrette
adapted from Bon Apetit, April 2012

I used rotisserie chicken because I had some that needed using up but the original recipe calls for a high quality tuna packed in olive oil, either would be great, really.  Whatever you do, don't leave one or the other out, it'll mess up the perfect balance this salad has going on.  Also switched up the vinaigrette to make it a little more acidic and less heavy on the olive oil.

serves 4

1 cup (packed) flat-leaf parsley
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 tablespoon champagne vinegar
1 garlic clove, crushed
salt & pepper


1 medium head of radicchio, cored, leaves coarsely torn
1 15-ounce can cannellini beans, rinsed, drained
2 celery stalks, sliced thinly on an extreme diagonal
1 cup shredded rotisserie chicken
2 scallions, thinly sliced

Vinaigrette:
Pulse parsley, oil, lemon juice, vinegar, and garlic in a blender until well blended. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Salad:
Place radicchio and celery in a large bowl; drizzle with a few tablespoons parsley vinaigrette and toss to coat. Season radicchio to taste with salt and pepper. Transfer to a serving platter, spreading out in an even layer. Arrange cannellini beans and shredded chicken and sliced scallions on top of the radicchio. Drizzle with a little more vinaigrette if desired.

Grown-up Tastes

I'm sorry.  I've been holding out on you.  I should have given you this pizza recipe more than a week ago, but I've been selfishly clinging onto it and not sharing.  Let me assure you though, this is totally worth waiting for.

Like the chicken satay and the corn, zucchini and feta pizza before it, I have a thing for interesting and homemade pizzas.  I'm not much of a delivery girl (I don't think I've ever ordered and had a pizza delivered, come to think of it), or snag a cheap slice in the afternoon or after the bar kind of girl either.  Back in elementary school I did join Pizza Hut's Book It! reading club allowing me to pester my parents to take me to get my free personal pan pizza once I fulfilled the quota.  A program that I was quite enthusiastic about owing mostly to the fact that I already read books like crazy and getting Pizza Hut was a novelty.  We were a strictly Boboli household - with the occasional BBQ chicken thrown in from Pizza Nova.

These days I prefer to get my hands in there and make the whole thing myself.  Stretching and pulling the crust out thin, heating my oven to its absolute maximum temperature, arranging the toppings and not too much cheese - and please! hold the pizza sauce - to make my own perfect pies.  I will gladly trade the convenience of delivery for the extra time in my kitchen, no problem.

This roasted cauliflower pizza, topped with colorful chilies and green olive tapenade was heavenly.  The nutty cauliflower bits melted together with the mild fresh mozzarella, the Fresno and Anaheim chilies punching up the spice factor, the colors here alone are almost enough.  But then you dollop little spoonfuls of green olive tapenade all over just as you take it out of the oven, making briny little pools as it softens in the heat, and that's when you've truly reached perfection and balance.

Pizza with Roasted Cauliflower, Chiles & Green Olive Tapenade
Adapted from TasteFood

There are many shortcuts you can take with this pizza, and as long as you're buying good quality stuff, the final product will not suffer. I used Whole Foods multigrain pizza dough and really enjoyed it's flavor, although I couldn't get it as thin as I would have liked. You can also use a jarred green olive tapenade, or whip one up yourself with olives, olive oil, garlic, lemon zest, anchovies and a pinch of red pepper flakes.

4-6 servings

1 pound ball of pizza dough
olive oil
8 oz fresh mozzarella, shredded or torn into small chunks
2 cups chopped cauliflower florets from 1 small head
2 Fresno chiles, sliced into rings
1 Anaheim/California chile, sliced into rings
1/2 cup green olive tapenade

Preheat oven to 450F.  If you have a pizza stone, put it in while the oven is cold.

On a piece of parchment paper, roll out dough to desired thickness.  Sometimes it comes out a circle, sometime a rectangle.  Sometimes it's just a wonky shape, dosen't matter.  Just roll, toss, stretch that dough until it's the thickness you like (I personally prefer a thinner crust).

Brush dough with a bit of olive oil.  Scatter the shredded/torn mozzarella over the whole thing, leaving a 1/2 inch border along the edges.  In a bowl toss the chopped cauliflower and chile rings with about 1 tablespoon of olive oil and then scatter the whole mixture over the cheese.

Transfer the pizza on the parchment paper to the pizza stone (or just onto a cookie sheet and then into the oven), and bake for 15-20 minutes, until the cheese bubbles and the crust turns a nice golden brown.  As soon as you take it out of the oven, spoon little dollops of the green olive tapenade all over and let it sit for 5 minutes.  Slice and serve.

Summer Romance

It's funny how you fall in love with a season all over again, year after year.  Never has it been the case that I didn't love summer, (I'm a Leo after all, ruled by the sun) but somehow in the interceding months of the year, that little bit slips to the back of my brain and becomes more a faded memory than a sensory feeling.  But oh!  When the sun does come out, and the earth heats up and the air changes just so, it all comes rushing back.

We've been going to the farmer's market every Saturday morning for the past month, and you can see the signs of summer creeping in at every stall.  The bushes of little green berries in the park just up the hill from us have finally exploded into a mess of juicy, deep purple blackberries.  And if hope helps at all, these foggy mornings will more quickly turn into warm sunny days.

It's a new version of summer I'm adjusting to here in San Francisco, but it's still my favorite season.

This pan-seared salmon is part of that redefining.  Previously, it might have been a grilled version, with black markings from the grates and a subtle smokey flavor, but we no longer have a grill and most evenings are so thick with fog I'd hardly want to stand outside long enough for the fish to cook.  A nice and hot cast iron skillet followed by a brief trip into the oven is the new grill.  I love the textures this recipe results in.  The crisp bottom of the fish from a heavy skillet and high heat, the interior kept moist and tender from a slathering of mustard and finally the crumbly, herby topping.

I've been using an herbs de Provence spice blend in just about everything lately (so good on grilled vegetables with a little olive oil and balsamic!), so that's what I used here and I thought it went perfectly with the dijon mustard and salty kick of freshly grated parmesan.  Paired with lightly steamed tender green beans and the first of the season's tiny yellow tomatoes, it all felt very French countryside.

Mustard and Panko-Crusted Salmon


This dish is simple and perfect for just two. I used skin-on salmon fillets, which helped keep the salmon itself from sticking to the pan, but next time I think I'd prefer it without. The parts that did come into direct contact with the super hot pan and crisped up were my favorite bits. And in the spirit of summer, you could easily sub out the dried herb blend for a teaspoon of fresh thyme or tarragon, whatever sounds best to you.

2 servings

2 salmon fillets, about 6 oz. each
1 tablespoon dijon mustard
salt and pepper
1/3 cup panko crumbs
1/2 teaspoon herbs de provence
1 tablespoon freshly grated parmesan
1 tablespoon olive oil, plus more for pan

Preheat oven to 425F.

Pat salmon fillets dry, season with salt and pepper and set aside.

In a shallow bowl, or small plate, mix the panko crumbs, herbs de provence and parmesan cheese and season with a little more salt and pepper.  Drizzle 1 tablespoon olive oil over the whole thing and mix to distribute.  The panko crumbs should stick together slightly.

Heat enough olive oil to coat the bottom of a heavy, oven-proof skillet over medium high heat for 2 minutes, being careful not to let it smoke.

Divide the mustard between the 2 fillets and spread around to cover top.  Press the panko mixture into the mustard and on top of the salmon and then carefully transfer to preheated skillet.  Cook for 4 minutes to get the bottom crispy and then immediately transfer to the oven to finish cooking for 10-13 minutes more, depending on the thickness of your fillets.

Spring, Sandwiched

I've had this sandwich bookmarked for a few weeks now.  But a few weeks ago the only asparagus I could find was pencil thin, limp and priced way too high.  These are not the qualities I look for when shopping.  Instead I just stared longingly at it on my computer screen, imagining its fresh flavor, its perfect representation of spring.   I needed this sandwich in my life.

Something familiar was speaking to me, but it took me a while to connect the dots.  You see, this is practically the spring vegetable version of the tuna nicoise sandwich I made way back when.  Almost.  This one is more elemental, simple.  You char some asparagus in a skillet, just enough to get a bit of color and caramelization on the outside, but keep some of that lovely crunch.  In the pan with that asparagus goes some crushed garlic cloves that first flavor the oil, then once they soften and sweeten a bit, get smeared on the bread.  The eggs, with their deep golden yolks (straight from some happy chickens on a friend's farm), lend some creaminess to the otherwise bright flavors.  Some mustard, my favorite pickled red onions, a squeeze of lemon and a good helping of dill round out the ingredients.  It sounds like more work than it actually is.

Asparagus is now flooding the markets and I've already begun to think of new ways to redo this sandwich.  Keep the asparagus as is, top it with a bit of sauce gribiche a handful of baby lettuces, thinly sliced cucumber and a few chopped kalamata olives.  Or toss lightly steamed asparagus in a mustard and caper vinaigrette and lay it over wild arugula.  Then pile on the hard boiled eggs, pickled red onion and fresh tarragon.  Each a new springtime collaboration.

Pair any of these with a colorful fruit salad and a chilled bottle of rosé and have yourself a perfect picnic.

Spring Asparagus Sandwiches
Adapted from TheKitchn

Measurements are hardly important here, but be sure to use the best quality and freshest ingredients. They're fantastic still slightly warm right after assembling, but if you don't mind sacrificing some crunch from the bread, wrap it all up and let it sit together in the fridge for a while before serving.  Perfect for a spring picnic.

Serves 2

about 12 medium spears of asparagus
2 pieces of baguettes, about 6"-7" inches long
2 hard boiled eggs
2 tablespoons olive oil

2 cloves of garlic, smashed
1/4 cup pickled red onions
2 tablespoons French mustard
lemon juice to taste
fresh dill
salt and pepper


Trim the asparagus by cutting or breaking off the woody ends, then cut the spears in half length–wise as best you can.  Slice your hard boiled eggs.

In a large skillet over high heat, add 1 tablespoon olive oil and the 2 cloves of smashed garlic. Sear the asparagus spears, about 3 minutes on each side, then remove from pan. You want a little bit of char, so don't move the asparagus very often. Split the baguette pieces in half.  Add remaining tablespoon of olive oil and toast the baguettes, cut side down in the same skillet just until it turns a bit golden.  Scrape/smear the garlic cloves that were cooked with the asparagus on one side of the toasted baguette, on the other side smear the mustard. 

Place half the asparagus on each sandwich, topped with sliced egg, dill, pickled onion and squeeze a little lemon over everything. Season with salt and pepper.

As Simple as....

What do you do when your fridge is overwhelmed with vegetables? Make stir fry of course! Actually, for how often my fridge is overwhelmed with vegetables (a totally good problem, by the way) I hardly ever make stir fry. It's just another one of those obvious things I overlook.

But the stars were aligned in just the right way the other night and this stir fry came to be. I had just picked up another gorgeous Mystery Box from Mariquita Farms that was just over flowing with broccoli de ciccio, colorful baby carrots, green onions and a big perky bunch of mizuna. It was on this same day that I happened across a recipe from Epicurious and dinner practically made itself - you know, after I did all the chopping and prepping.  There were some mushrooms that needed using up too, so they made their way into the mix.

Listen, a stir fry isn't the kind of thing you even need a recipe for really, but sometimes it's good to have a guide. The crunchiest ingredients go in first, use high heat and stir/toss frequently, don't even think about over cooking it, the fresh snap when you bite down is good!  And the suggestion to toss in your spicy, lacy leaves of mizuna (or mustard greens or bok choy) is pretty helpful too. Leaves on those cute flowering heads of broccoli? Absolutely include them. In the end it just becomes a beautiful tangled mess of colorful vegetables and tofu, served over some brown rice and you're looking mighty healthy.  Other fantastic additions/substitutions could be sliced bell peppers, snow peas, maybe even some fresh bean sprouts right before serving.

This isn't a game changer of a recipe, but sometimes it's just nice to have a reminder to make something simple like stir fry.

Stir Fry with Mizuna and Tofu
Adapted from Bon Appetit, January 2011

The sauce for this stir fry is pretty light in the flavor department. Hints of it here and there, just enough to give it final bright boost. Of course if you've got another favorite sauce, it would totally work here. I'd also consider adding a dollop of sriracha to the final soy/vinegar sauce, or else put a few drops on top once you plate it.

4 servings

4 tablespoons soy sauce, divided
4 teaspoons Asian sesame oil, divided
4 teaspoons unseasoned rice vinegar, divided
1 14-ounce container extra-firm tofu, drained
2 tablespoons peanut oil
4 green onions, chopped
1 tablespoon finely chopped peeled fresh ginger
2 large garlic cloves, finely chopped
2 -3 cups broccoli di ciccio (or broccolini), chopped; stems, leaves and all
2 cups mixed baby carrots
4 ounces button mushrooms, sliced
1 big bunch mizuna, any tough stems removed

salt and white pepper

brown rice, for serving


Whisk 2 tablespoons soy sauce, 2 teaspoons sesame oil, and 1/2 teaspoon vinegar in bowl.

Stack 2 paper towels on work surface. Cut tofu crosswise into 3/4-inch-thick slices; cut each slice crosswise in half. Arrange tofu on paper towels and let stand 10 minutes. Pat top of tofu dry.

Heat peanut oil in large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add tofu and cook, without moving, until golden brown on bottom, 2 to 3 minutes per side. Transfer tofu to paper towel to drain, then place tofu on sheet of foil and brush both sides with soy sauce mixture.

Wipe out any peanut oil from skillet. Add 2 teaspoons sesame oil and place skillet over medium heat. Add green onions, ginger, and garlic. Stir until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Add broccoli and toss just until it turns bright green. Add carrots, then mushrooms and cook until the mushrooms begin to release their moisture. Add mizuna in 2 batches, tossing to wilt before adding more, 1 to 2 minutes per batch. Season greens with salt and pepper. Add remaining 1 1/2 tablespoons soy sauce and 3 teaspoons vinegar and toss to coat. Add tofu to skillet. Toss again, gently to blend. Season with salt and white pepper if desired. Transfer to platter.

Jam and Oats

There is a trend among my favorite-est cookies; they're mainly of the oatmeal variety.  I like them chewy and studded with raisins and toasted walnuts.  I adore them during the holidays, spread out thinly and lace-like and perfumed with shredded coconut.  I even love them if there's chocolate chips instead of raisins, but not quite as much.

I think what gets me about oatmeal cookies, of the non-chocolate chip variety, is that they're typically less sweet.  Or else the sweet is balanced out by the hearty chew of the oatmeal.  Either way, I'm into it.

These guys, plopped onto well-loved cookie sheets, thumbprints pressed into their centers to be filled with a dollop of jam?  I love them too.  The soft oatmeal cookie is warmed with the slightest hint of cinnamon and brightened with a fruity center.  But wait!  There is something even better here.  This recipe is really just a jumping off point, for you to get creative with.  I see stone fruit preserves and cardamom scented cookies.  Raspberry jam and lemony oatmeal bases.  Peach and ginger.  I kept it pretty safe with the blackberry and cinnamon combo (a winning combination to be sure!), but that's only because it's what I had around.

Bonus points for whipping up recipes with pantry staples.




Oatmeal Jammys
recipe from The Treats Truck Baking Book

The possibilities with these cookies are endless. Just swap out equal quantities of the dried spices and preserves and create all new cookies.  Cardamom, cinnamon, ground ginger all would be fantastic, as would a little freshly grated lemon zest.  Any jam or preserve will do, but i would probably stay away from jelly.  A little texture does these cookies good.

About 2 dozen cookies
3/4 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened
1/2 cup packed dark brown sugar
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups old-fashioned oats
jams or preserves


Preheat oven to 350°. Grease or line baking sheets.

Whisk together flour, baking soda, cinnamon, and salt. Set aside.

Beat butter and both sugars until light and fluffy. Add the egg and mix well. Mix in vanilla. Gradually add flour mixture, mixing until fully incorporated. Mix in oats.  Dough will be a bit sticky, but not unmanageably so.

Scoop dough onto prepared pans using a spoon and place them about 2 inches apart. Using your thumb, make a hollow in each cookie. Dipping your thumb in warm water beforehand will help keep the dough from sticking.  Fill each hollow with jam (or preserves).

Bake 12-14 minutes, until cookies are fully baked and the edges are golden.

Wine and Dine

Things to eat when it's blustery and rainy out:  this red wine spaghetti. 

Isn't it pretty?  That tangle of deep mauve noodles on the plate, punctuated with bright flecks of parsley?  Nestled in that mess are crunchy pieces of toasted walnuts, red pepper flakes and just softened bits of fresh garlic too.  But that spaghetti, actually cooked in red wine - total revelation.  It picks up a lot of earthiness and a little fruitiness and all of that brings out all the natural nuttiness of the pasta.

This is the kind of pasta you would serve friends that looks and sounds way fancier than it actually is.  Throw a little roasted broccolini, or my new favorite broccoli di cicco, on that plate and you've got quite the elegant meal.  Not that elegance is exclusively for sharing with friends or that this dinner isn't perfectly appropriate for say, a Wednesday night dinner either.  Because that's just how this plate went down.  On  a weeknight.  Just D and I.  Paired up with what remained of the bottle of red wine.

But let me not throw you out into the world of cooking pasta in red wine without a few ground rules.  You must, I mean must, use a wine that you would totally drink.  Think about it.  The pasta will be soaking up this liquid so whatever flavor the wine has, it's sure to impart some of that to the finished dish. Something in the $10 range.  Something like Zinfandel or Merlot - think less dry, more jammy.  Bonus if you only make a half recipe like I did, because then you have the other half of the bottle to enjoy with dinner.  Also, don't try to fancy this up and use fresh pasta.  It's cooking time is too brief for the red wine to do it's magic.  Just buy a good quality brand of dry pasta.  Lastly, this is a really simple recipe where each ingredient shares in the spotlight, so you know, use the good quality stuff.

Red Wine Spaghetti with Walnuts
Adapted from Food and Wine

A few key things with this recipe. As with most sauceless pastas, this was best when eaten immediately after making, the leftovers just didn't pop. Also, use a wine you would drink. It dosen't have to be fancy, something in the $10 range maybe. Since the pasta soaks up a considerable amount of the wine, it's flavor profile will obviously be contributing to the final dish. I used a Zinfandel, but I think a Merlot could work here too. And if you like whole wheat pastas, a good quality brand could translate well here adding something a little more nutty and toothsome.

4-6 servings

5 cups water
3 1/4 cups dry red wine
Salt
3/4 pound dry spaghetti
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
4 large garlic cloves, chopped
1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper
1/2 cup finely chopped parsley
a big handful of walnuts, toasted and coarsely chopped
1/2 cup grated Grana Padano cheese, plus more for serving
Freshly ground black pepper

In a saucepan, combine the water with 3 cups of the wine and a large pinch of salt and bring to a boil. Add the spaghetti and cook, stirring, until al dente. Drain, reserving 1/4 cup of the cooking liquid.

In a skillet, heat 2 tablespoons of the oil. Add the garlic and red pepper and season with salt.Cook over moderate heat for 1 minute. Add the remaining 1/4 cup of wine and the reserved cooking liquid and bring to a simmer. Stir in the pasta and cook until the liquid is nearly absorbed, 2 minutes. Add the parsley, nuts, the 1/2 cup of cheese and the remaining 2 tablespoons of oil and toss. Season the pasta with salt and pepper and serve, passing grated cheese at the table.

Transforming Colors

My mind must be somewhere else.  Dreaming up vacations, buried in books, bogged down in studying for midterms.  It's certainly nowhere near the kitchen.

Ridiculous things have transpired there, things that I know better than to do.  Like cooking red cabbage in a cast iron skillet.  I've been so into using mine for everything lately; for perfectly crusty grilled cheese, for big puffy german pancakes or a good deeply golden sauté of veggies, that I absentmindedly tossed some red cabbage in there without thinking.  Until about 30 seconds later when bits of blue started popping up. Fun if you're doing a science experiment, or fancy yourself a Dr. Seuss inspired meal, but I'm not too into eating unnaturally blue foods so I quickly grabbed the hot skillet and transfered it all over to a non-reactive cooking vessel.  Doh!

Then the other day I made some turnip and potato pancakes.  Just grated up the white starchy roots, mixed it with an egg, some flour and chopped green onions and got to frying (in my cast iron skillet, naturally).  But the batch was bigger than I anticipated and I just wanted to eat dinner so I only fried up about half and told myself to cook the rest up later.  Except, do you know what happens to raw grated potatoes when you just let them sit out?  They oxidize.  They turn black.  People, I know this.  I've fished out bits of oxidized grated potatoes from my drain before that look more like a hairball or something dead.  It's gross.  But set them aside I did, only to find an unappealing grey mixture left in the bowl.  These have not been my finest hours.

All things considered, a green smoothie doesn't seem so out of place then.  Except this was no accident.  And green smoothies/juices are everywhere these days.  This one is a particularly fine example with the addition of an orange and a frozen banana, and coconut water if you're into that sort of thing.  I packed in a bunch of spinach and a squeeze of lemon juice and let my (crappy) blender do the work.  It's bright and tasty and we pretty much drank it every day for a week until the giant bag of spinach I got from Mariquita Farms ran out.

Black potatoes?  Blue cabbage?  Whatever, I have my green smoothie to comfort me.

Greensicle Smoothie
Adapted from Puree Juice Bar via Tasting Table

I've given you the recipe using spinach, but kale (as it was originally written) and baby chard work just as well. I increased the amount of green from 1/2 cup to 3 - 4 cups because it seemed like so little, and putting more in hardly changes the flavor. If you use all spinach the banana and sweetness of the orange really come through. In the batch that I made with half spinach and half baby chard, I started to get hints of vegetable. Adjust according to taste.

2 (16oz) drinks
3 - 4 cups chopped spinach
1 tablespoon lemon juice
2 oranges, segmented and chopped
1 frozen banana, cut into chunks
1 cup coconut water

Put all ingredients into blender and blend until smooth.

Sunny in the City

Can I just give you a recipe today? You know, skip the story, the lengthy description and just give you the facts? It's perfect outside and I really can't be bothered with much else.

Three cheers for what is apparently the mildest most perfect San Francisco winter in the the history of ever!  Last night at nearly midnight it was 65F out, warm and still. In celebration I dug out the copy of Saveur magazine that we inherited with the apartment (an issue from August, I believe) and went straight to this salmon recipe.  Madhur Jaffrey knows what's up.  Chunks of salmon bathing in a bright and zingy mustard sauce, not what I'd picture as being Indian, but oh-so-tasty anyway.

There were some last minute modifications of course, due to my lack of interest in replenishing my out of stock spices on short notice.  Used the last of the brown mustard seeds pickling this summer! What I thought were cumin seeds were actually caraway seeds! Ground fennel instead of, you guessed it, whole seeds!  Deal with it.  But if you can, make it how it's written.

Unless you have sunshine to enjoy instead.

Salmon in Bengali Mustard Sauce
from Saveur Magazine, Issue #140

This isn't so much a curry as it is some salmon with a little extra sauce to spoon over the top. Serve it with some plain basmati rice and a sautéed green of your choice and let it all mingle on your plate. We squeezed a little extra lemon on the greens, but that's about all the dressing this plate needs.

4 servings
3/4 pound skinless wild salmon filets, cut into large chunks
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon ground turmeric
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 tablespoon mustard powder
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1/4 teaspoon brown mustard seeds
1/4 teaspoon cumin seeds
1/4 teaspoon fennel seeds
2 serrano chiles, split

Rub fish evenly with half of the salt, turmeric, and cayenne; set aside. In a bowl, stir remaining salt, turmeric, and cayenne with powder and 1/2 cup water; set slurry aside.

Heat oil in 12″ skillet over medium-high heat; add mustard seeds; cook for 1–2 minutes. Add cumin and fennel, cook for 30 seconds; add slurry mixture and chiles. Add fish, and cook, basting, until done, about 10 minutes.

Just Right

Deep down, somewhere permanently entwined in my DNA, I'm a midwestern girl. Unapologetically making chocolate cake with mayonnaise, using margarine instead of butter, and making bright green confections using white cake mix and a box of pistachio pudding. Actually, only that last one is true, but it's also true that I don't bat an eyelash or think twice about slathering the top of my scalloped potatoes with a can of condensed cheddar cheese soup. Like I said: so midwestern.

Something magical happens with you take the shortcut and combine a box of white cake mix and pistachio pudding together.  A handful of chopped walnuts scattered across the top and finished with a sweet buttery syrup - I'm sure anyone in my family could tell you, the green cake is where it's at.

For that matter, my cat will happily back the idea up too.  Both times I've made this cake my cat has managed to dig her face into the pan while backs are turned and eat more than her fair share.

The recipe card this cake is written on, from my Gram, is my most favoritest.  It's just a little 3"x 5" piece of card stock with pastel flowers and yellowed edges and her elegant penmanship, but it really is the one I like most.  And when I think about pistachio cake, or read the recipe card, I can picture the exact pan she bakes it in every time.  A lightweight and light colored metal baking pan that's been used so many times you can see where each cut was made, leaving tiny scrapes and marks.  It's important, that pan, it makes all the difference when it's made just the right way.  She has just the right bowl for potato salad, too.

My baking pan isn't quite right, but it does the trick, and the cake tastes just as good.

Pistachio Cake
Adapted from my Gram


I unintentionally de-fattened this cake a bit (Whoops!  Running out of vegetable oil!), but it was no worse for the wear.  In fact, I couldn't even tell the difference, so I'll give you the recipe in it's lowered fat version.  Also, I snuck in a few drops of almond extract on a whim and have decided that it was a good choice.  Should you choose to go this route, let me caution against using anymore than a few drops (1/4 teaspoon at most): that stuff is overpowering.


12 servings

1 box white cake mix
1 box pistachio pudding
4 eggs, beaten
1 1/2 cups water
1/4 cup vegetable oil
a few drops almond extract (optional)
a handful or two of walnuts, chopped
2 cups powdered sugar
1/2 cup water
2 tablespoons butter

Preheat oven to 350.  Grease and flour a metal 13x9 baking pan.

In a medium to large bowl with a wire wisk mix together the contents of the cake mix, pistachio pudding, egg, water and vegetable oil until just combined. Pour into prepared baking dish and evenly sprinkle the chopped walnuts over the top.  Bake 35-40 minutes, or until the top is golden and a toothpick inserted comes out clean.

Remove cake from oven and with a fork or toothpick, prick holes all over the surface of the cake (this will allow the syrup to soak in easier).  In a small saucepan, heat powdered sugar, water and butter over medium heat until the syrup is simmering.  Simmer for 2-3 minutes until the mixture begins to thicken.  Pour or spoon syrup over the surface of the cake and allow to cool completely.

Pick Me Up

Me and this week, we're not friends.  We're in a fight.

Monday was the first ever national Food Day.  A day to bring awareness and push for healthy, affordable food produced in a sustainable, humane way.  I would have liked to tell you about it much earlier, but my time this past week has be dedicated to organic chemistry.   Ugh, food is much more exciting than o chem.  Truth.

Two exams back-to-back on Thursday morning.  One of them at 8am and neither of them went so well.

This weekend will be filled with Halloween festivities and I just can't bring myself to get excited about them.  I have however, spent the last week admiring the houses in the 'hood, all decked out and ready for the costumed parade of kids on Monday.  Man, I wish I could still go trick-or-treating.

So next week, I'm looking at you, let's make it a better week.

These sausage stuffed peppers would be a good start.  They have the ability to get you out of a funk, because even if your day wasn't so hot, a good dinner can lift your spirits.  These peppers are really just that good, made even better by the homegrown goodness they contained.  The peppers and eggs and sausage came from wonderful, generous friends.  I even made the tomato sauce out of their tomatoes (you can used canned sauce, though I'd argue your peppers will be filled with less love than these).  The chicken stock was freshly made and aside from the spinach, the rest was pantry staples.

I know there's a million and a half recipes like this one.  Peppers stuffed with ground beef or turkey, grains, couscous, vegetables and cheese, but these ones are different.  For one, there's no baking.  Everything gets cooked in one (large) skillet on the stove top, taking much less time.  Also, the tomato sauce the stuffed pepper halves simmer in is kind of genius.  It picks up all the browned bits from the pan and catches all the juices and reduces it all to a tangy, yet rich sauce to pour over the top when serving.  Oh, and sausage kicks the butt of plain ole ground meat any day.

Spinach and Sausage Stuffed Peppers

Adapted from Food and Wine, October 2010


At a glance, this may look fussier than your standard stuffed pepper recipe - the kind where you lop off the top of the pepper, stuff it full of ground meat or grains and maybe some veggies and cheese, then set it to bake away - but it's not.  If you're swift in the kitchen, you could probably get this on the table in 30 minutes.  The extra step of browning the tops and using sausage instead of ground beef or turkey bumps the flavor way up.  Plus eating the halved peppers is far less awkward than trying to devise a plan of attack on a whole upright stuffed pepper.


4-6 servings

5 oz. baby spinach
2 slices of fresh french bread, finely chopped
1/4 cup milk
1 large egg
2 tablespoons freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese
2 tablespoons pine nuts
2 tablespoons chopped red onion
1 pound sweet or hot Italian sausage, casings removed
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
4 small to medium sized green bell peppers
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 cup canned tomato sauce
1 cup chicken broth

In a very large skillet, cook the spinach over high heat just until wilted, about 1 minute. Drain and press out all of the water. Coarsely chop the spinach. Rinse out and dry the pan.

In a bowl, knead the chopped bread with the milk, egg and cheese to form a paste. Knead in the pine nuts, onion, sausage and spinach and season lightly with salt and pepper. Using lightly moistened hands, divide the mixture among the pepper halves and lightly pack it in.

In the skillet, heat the olive oil until shimmering. Add the stuffed peppers, filling side down, and cook over high heat until well-browned, about 4 minutes. Turn the peppers and cook until the skins are browned and blistered, about 4 minutes longer. Add the tomato sauce and chicken broth, cover and simmer until the sausage filling is cooked through and the peppers are tender, 5 to 6 minutes. Transfer to plates and serve right away.

Beans and Greens

I have a confession to make and some of you may be a little surprised.  This soup recipe is old school Rachael Ray.  Back before she had a talk show and a hundred million cookbooks, before orange cookware became synonymous with her name.  Before even the suggested serving sizes of her recipes downright frightened me (unless I misread the recipe source and this soup was actually intended for 2?).  She has some hidden gems, recipes that I've definitely made more than once, so I guess what I'm saying is: don't judge a book by it's cover.

This is just a simple beans and greens kind of soup.  It could have been anyone's recipe really, but it just happens to come from Rachael Ray.  This is he kind of soup you crave on drizzly grey days, or when you're looking for comfort without tons of effort.  It's not the most handsome of soups, but with darkness falling earlier and earlier its muted tones are much more appropriate to autumn's palate.

Escarole is a fun green.  A little less bitter than other members of the endive family, it's wild and tangled leaves giving it the look of green leaf's less demure sibling.  I like it best with a little heat put to.  It tames the bitter and makes it more approachable.  In this soup, the wilted and stewed escarole becomes silky and its bright green color fades to something more homely.  The beans add body and thicken the savory chicken stock as they simmer away.  Pancetta is in there too, playing the much important salty role.  A tiny mountain of Parmigiano Reggiano to top it all off  and I've got my dinner all planned out for the next few days.

Minestra

recipe from Rachael Ray, 30 Minute Meals


This soup is dead simple and simply perfect.  It should go without saying that when a recipe is as simple as this, seek out the best ingredients.  Homemade chicken stock and super fresh escarole from the market will make all the difference here.  I suspect cooking up your own beans instead of using canned would be even more wonderful, but it's an extra step I haven't yet taken.  I like a generous dusting of  the real-deal fresh parmesan cheese on mine and bread is a must to swipe up the last bits from the bowl.


4-6 servings

4 cloves garlic, crushed

2 oz. pancetta, diced

2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

1 medium onion, diced

1 large bunch escarole, chopped

2 (14-ounce) cans, cannellini beans, drained

4 cups chicken stock

A couple pinches ground nutmeg

kosher salt

Shaved Parmigiano Reggiano, for topping

In a deep, large, heavy pot over moderate heat, saute garlic and pancetta in extra-virgin olive oil for 3 minutes. Add onions and cook a few minutes longer until the pancetta begins to brown.

Add the greens and wilt slightly, just so that can fit in the pot.  Add drained beans, broth, and nutmeg. Cook over moderate to medium-high heat for 12 minutes, or until greens are no longer bitter.  Season with salt and don't be shy here, salt until the flavors pop.  Serve with shaved cheese and perhaps some crusty bread.

From Veggie Box to Plate

The farm where our CSA box comes from is located in Dixon, CA about an hour and half north east from here.  There it's still warm and the summer crops are still happily providing.  This past week we had our first rain of the season and just like that I switched gears into obsessing over things like apples and pumpkins and stews.  Tomatoes, I love you, but I think it's time for a break.

I'm back and forth on my feelings regarding the aforementioned CSA box.  There's only one more box left in our trial, so I've begun to make mental pro and con lists in my head about the experience.  Quality wise, I haven't really any complaints - except that one time we got an heirloom Tigger melon that teased me with its perfume only to taste like nothing.  I suppose my problem is that some of the shopping and cooking control has been taken away from me.  My meal planning has been reversed.  Instead of using what's in season to guide my menu planning and in turn my shopping, I now search for recipes for specific ingredients and work from that direction.

Pros include the affordability and always having a house well stocked with (organic) vegetables and sometimes fruit.  I'm also all about supporting the small, local farms and avoiding Safeway like the plague.

In the meantime however, while I try and make up my mind, I still need to use up the goods in the veggie box.  I'll keep cooking the summer squashes and finding new ways to use up tomatoes and basil.  And for that I have the help of this dish I found on the NYT website.  It's honestly more than the sum of its parts which is exactly what I needed out of the recipe.  Something to surprise me and remind me to be grateful for harvest time's bounty.  Not quite stewed zucchini that maintain some bite to them melting together with sweet tomatoes and a kick of garlic and basil, it's summertime comfort food.  Fast too.

Zucchini Provencal

recipe from NYT's Recipes for Health

As suggested in the NYT column, I suspect this would be delicious served over some grilled fish, something mild and white.  We just had it with a chunk of crusty baguette and some salami for a light and simple meal.  It was delicious the next day gently warmed with a sprinkle of feta cheese and scooped up with the leftover bread.

4 side dish servings

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1 1/2 pounds medium or small zucchini thinly sliced

2 garlic cloves, minced

1 pound ripe tomatoes, grated on the large holes of a box grater

Salt and freshly ground pepper

1 to 2 tablespoons chopped or slivered fresh basil (to taste)

Heat 1 tablespoon of the olive oil over medium-high heat in a wide, heavy skillet. Add the zucchini. Cook, stirring or shaking the pan, until the zucchini is lightly seared and beginning to soften, three to five minutes. Remove from the pan, and set aside.

Add the remaining olive oil to the pan, then the garlic. Cook, stirring, just until fragrant -- less than 30 seconds. Stir in the tomatoes. Cook, stirring, until the tomatoes have begun to cook down, about five minutes. Return the zucchini to the pan, add salt and pepper to taste, and reduce the heat to medium. Cook, stirring often, until the zucchini is tender and translucent and the tomatoes have cooked down to a fragrant sauce. Stir in the basil, and taste and adjust seasonings. Remove from the heat and serve hot, or allow to cool and serve at room temperature.

A Sting on the Lips

At the end of each season, there always seems to be one ingredient, one fruit or vegetable that I had but precious little of.  I'm sad to see the season change, knowing that with it goes some food that I'll have to wait another 9 months for.  For me, this summer, it was corn.

So obvious.  Corn.  It's probably why I passed it up all the time, thinking that I would just make that *next time*.  I can count on one hand the number of times corn made it onto my plate this summer and that's just plain sad.  With butter and salt or hot sauce and lime, a freshly picked ear of corn can do no wrong.  I'm a snob, I like the fresh stuff best.  I'll use frozen in a pinch but never commercially canned - the flavor can't hope to compare.

As summer was winding down and the zucchini from my CSA was piling up, I ran across this fantastic looking recipe over on shutterbean.  Everything besides the feta and corn were already on hand so I called it destiny and added a few things to my shopping list.  

The pizza was everything you'd want in a summer meal; fresh, light but filling, served perfectly with a big salad full of tomatoes, cucumbers and herbs.  But you see that jalapeno right there, right in the foreground, perched precariously on the tip of the slice?  WHOA.  It was a sneaky little pepper, setting both mine and D's lips to tingling and burning and then burning a whole lot more.  I'm usually better about that, testing a just sliced pepper for heat, but I didn't this time.  I don't know, maybe it's just me, but jalapenos usually underwhelm me with their heat.  Half the time I buy them and they are as harmless as a bell pepper.  I just assumed this one was harmless too.

But you know what happens when you assume...

You get stinging lips and watery eyes.

A little more feta and lime juice and a few glasses of water later we finished it up, though I admitted defeat and picked the remaining peppers off my slice.  Until next time, jalapenos, until next time.

Corn Zucchini and Feta Pizza (with Cilantro and Lime)

adapted from shutterbean

Waste no time, and go buy some of the last ears of corn and a zucchini from the dwindling summer squash (if you're not too sick of it yet), this pizza is calling your name.  If you have a favorite pizza dough recipe, use it.  When I'm feeling less lazy and have a little foresight to start the dough the night before, I'm a fan of the recipe from The Bread Baker's Apprentice, but this time I just grabbed some premade dough from Trader Joe's.  Whatever.  And please, do yourself a favor and check the heat of the jalapeno before you go tossing it on your pizza with reckless abandon.  Your tastebuds will thank you.

4 servings

pizza dough

1 zucchini, thinly sliced

1 cup corn (fresh or frozen, cooked or uncooked)

1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil

1/2 medium red onion, thinly sliced

1 jalapeno thinly sliced

1/2 cup feta

1 big handful bunch cilantro, chopped

red pepper flakes (optional)

salt & pepper

juice of 1 lime

Preheat the oven to 450F.

Put zucchini & corn in a bowl, toss with olive oil and set aside.

Oil a rimmed cookie sheet liberally with olive oil. Put the dough on the pan and stretch and press it out towards the edges. If it springs back wait five minutes and then proceed. Continue pressing and stretching until you reach your desired size/thickness (remembering that it will puff up a bit more while baking).

Top the pizza dough with zucchini, corn, red onion, jalapeno and scatter feta and torn cilantro leaves on top. Sprinkle with salt, pepper. Cook for 15-20 minutes in the oven. Evenly squeeze lime juice on top of the pizza and serve with fresh cilantro, a little more feta and red pepper flakes for added heat.

The Old is New

I haven't cooked in weeks.  Aside from the appetizer or snack to bring along to a party/get together or the roughly 15 dozen cookies I baked up in one night, I haven't made any real sort of food in far too many days.  My apartment has been host to out of town friends who required refueling on California burritos, carne asada fries and In-N-Out burgers and my fridge has been stocked with leftovers galore.  Which is to say, this is a perfect time to play catch-up on the backlog of entries in my queue.

I couldn't tell you when I made this pasta, and even if I could, I wouldn't because it was an embarrassing amount of time ago.  Like, there aren't enough fingers and toes on maybe 2 people to count how many days ago, maybe more.  I do, however, remember this pasta quite fondly.   A delicate sweet tomato sauce bubbling away on the stove, creamy chickpeas folded into the mix along with some fragrant basil.  Notwithstanding that this recipe was published as a "carbo-load" in the New York Magazine just prior to the New York Marathon, it's quite healthy so long as you don't follow the part where 1 pound of pasta is the serving size for 2-3 marathoners.  I don't know about you, but I'd be hard pressed to finish a half pound of pasta on my own.  In one sitting.  Heck, if I cooked a pound of pasta D and I would be eating it for the better part of a week and by the end someone - okay, you don't need to twist my arm, it'd be me - would be moaning and groaning about having to even look at the stuff one more time.

So here it is, revamped and revised in a more practical form, at least for us.  The amount of pasta cut in half but with the original measures for the sauce and still serving 4 newly resolved and health conscious people.  (See?  Look at me, looking out for your resolutions!)


Chickpea and Tomato Pasta
Adapted from New York Magazine 

A few notes.  After reading several reviews on the recipe it was widely agreed upon that either the sauce needed to be doubled or the pasta halved; I opted for using half the pasta because around here 1/2 a pound of the stuff easily feeds 4.  I made the boo-boo of using angelhair instead of spaghetti which I would recommend against you making the same mistake, especially if there will be leftovers.   The thin pasta gets soggy and breaks apart, highly undesirable.  Bacon instead of pancetta?  Surely.  Short on chicken broth?  You can use a dry white wine or else a mixture of water and dry vermouth in its place like I did.  It was still delicious.

 4 servings

3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1/2 cup diced bacon (just under 2 ounces)
1 medium onion, thinly sliced
4 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
15 ounces canned chickpeas, rinsed and drained or about 2 cups, freshly cooked chickpeas
6 tablespoons water
2 tablespoons dry vermouth
Pinch chile flakes
1 14-ounce can diced tomatoes
10 to 15 basil leaves, each torn in 2 or 3 pieces
Salt to taste
1/2 pound dry spaghetti
Freshly grated Parmesan cheese to taste

Heat olive oil in a large skillet. Add the diced bacon and cook until it begins to brown, about 3-4 minutes.  Add the onions and sauté until tender, 5 to 10 minutes. Add the garlic and chili flakes and sauté for 1 minute more.

Set aside 1/3 cup of the chickpeas, and place the rest of the chickpeas in a food processor with the water and dry vermouth. Pulse until the mixture reaches a chunky-smooth consistency, like chunky peanut butter.  Add the mixture, tomatoes, and basil to the skillet. Bring to a boil, and simmer for 20 minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Meanwhile, cook the pasta according to the directions. When the pasta is almost done, reserve 1 1/2 cups of the cooking liquid, and then drain. Add the pasta to the sauce along with the remaining chickpeas. Toss, adding the pasta liquid if necessary. Serve immediately with freshly grated parmesan cheese.