One of my favorite food-related phenomena is what I refer to as the Fridge Factor. This is when you're hunting around for something to eat and realize that you just so happen to have everything on hand that you need to create a favorite dish that suits your current mood. It is a happy accident, an aligning of perishables and pantry shelves that points you in the direction of the dish you didn't know you could make but are happy that you can.
This happened to me this weekend. I was in the mood for something fresh and crunchy on Saturday, and when I opened my fridge, figuring I'd make a salad, my eyes fell first on the two-pound container of strawberries I got at Trader Joe's for a bargain price and then on a box of baby arugula, my favorite salad greens. My brain spun a bit, and I remembered that I'd gotten some blue cheese for an endive salad we had earlier in the week. Then it spun some more when I remembered a bottle of vanilla fig balsamic vinegar I found in the Home Goods section of Marshall's (really!).
What a perfect combination: peppery, bitter arugula with sweet strawberries, salty-sour blue cheese, and the tangy sweetness of balsamic vinegar. Four ingredients, a simple combination, but one that made my mouth do a little happy dance.
As I started to slice my strawberries, I began having second thoughts. Perhaps my salad was TOO simple. I did, after all, have some grape tomatoes I could slice up and also add to the salad. No, I told myself, tomatoes will be too much. They will add acid that might not gel with the rest of the salad. Hold off.
But I still felt uneasy. When I went to the pantry, I still found myself in this mentality of more is better. My eyes scanned the shelves. What about some slivered almonds? How about pine nuts? I could add some olive oil.
Trust yourself, woman. Four ingredients is fine, I had to assure myself. Your first thought was your best thought. These four things are all ingredients you adore. Your instinct to put them together was right, but don't make a muddle of things by forcing more guests to the party. More is not always better. Just stick with what you have.
So I did. Arugula, strawberries, blue cheese, vinegar. I assembled the salad slowly, feeling the light, dry arugula leaves give under my hand as I piled them into the bowl, carefully cutting the berries into neat, thin, round slices. I shook out just enough of the gloriously stinky blue cheese that it looked like a snow flurry, not a blizzard, had hit the bowl. I opened the bottle of vinegar and inhaled deeply. It had that lovely, heady balsamic smell to it, with just a hint of dessert to it. I slowly drizzled it over the salad and wiped up a drop from the rim of the bottle with my finger. The vinegar was a rich brown color speckled with fig seeds. The vanilla really mellowed out the vinegar's acidic flavor. It wasn't an overwhelming addition; it just enhanced the vinegar and made it taste a little more special.
I dug in. The salad really did it for me. Everything combined in just the right way to make for a satisfying lunch. The textures, the mixture of salty and sweet and bitter and tangy flavors, combined in a way that was just right. I was so glad that I didn't go overboard and start adding ingredients just for the sake of having more on my plate. This was definitely a case of less is more.
The more I cook and learn about food, the more I realize that less is more is probably the best mantra you can recite in the kitchen. You must trust yourself. When something seems to be at just the right balance of flavors and textures, stop. Don't second guess yourself. Leave it be. Chances are, your first thought was the best thought and was correct. You don't have to add dozens of ingredients to make a wonderful and impressive dish. This is not to say that having many ingredients is a bad thing. It can be essential. I think of something like mole sauce and respect the fact that it takes a lot of ingredients and time and patience to make it perfect. But then I think of something like the humble lentil soup I make from time to time for an easy, filling dinner, and I realize just how important it is to have less rather than more. Onions, carrot, celery, and garlic cooked in some olive oil, with lentils and water, salt and pepper. It is so simple, and yet so amazingly satisfying. Every ingredient gets to be a star in this show.
By honoring technique and treating ingredients kindly, with respect, you will get amazing results no matter how few things go into your pot or bowl. Finding ways to coax pleasing flavor combinations out of seemingly ordinary foods often leads to extraordinary results. Putting browned meat into a pot with wine and a few aromatic vegetables and letting it braise slowly for hours in your oven will give you an amazingly complex, beautifully textured dish, without a long list of exotic ingredients. It is the care and attention you put into your meals that will give you the best results, not bottles of truffle oil and jars of caviar. These things are all well and good, but they are certainly not necessary for you to feel like a queen when you sit down to dinner. Knowing that you created something that will tempt and delight you will give you a satisfaction that no bottle of expensive wine ever could. This is what I learned this weekend when I made my humble yet not-so-humble simple salad of arugula, strawberries, blue cheese, and vinegar.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Thursday, April 8, 2010
An Easter dish that's perfect for every day of the week
Happy very-belated Easter! And what a beautiful Easter it was here in the Northeast. The temperatures were in the low 70s, there was a lot of sun, and it was breezy. It really was a lovely, pleasant weekend.
Easter has never been a very big deal in my family. We usually gather at my aunt's house for a half-hearted egg hunt in her tiny backyard, chocolate bunnies, and a dinner of meatballs and ham. I think one reason I've never been very keen on Easter is those dreadful spiral-cut hams people have on Easter. A big, pink lump studded with cloves, covered in sweet sauce, and topped with pineapples is not my idea of how to honor a beautiful ham. To me, ham should be salty, because the natural subtle sweetness of the pork will shine through the brine. To cover a ham in sugar AND cloves AND fruit AND syrupy sweet stuff is just a crime. An absolute crime! Putting a bit of sugar on ham is okay by me ONLY if you are also putting savory spices on it, like cumin and paprika, and using the mixture as a nice rub. None of this gooey sweet ham nonsense. Honor your ham and lay off the pineapples! (I despise pineapples, mostly because they make my mouth incredibly itchy, but if they're your thing, go for it. Just don't let me see you putting them on a ham.)
Jeremy and I kept it pretty casual on Easter Sunday, but because I did want to at least do something a bit Eastery, I decided to make penne with asparagus and ham. It includes a lean ham steak, which you cut into tiny bits and add in at the end. This dish is lovely and light, yet lemony and flavorful, and it's also really healthy because it's pretty low in fat. In fact, it's a dish I got from a Weight Watchers cookbook, and Jeremy and I just love it. The best part of this dish is that you can also eat it cold, like a pasta salad, something that came in handy last night when it was freakishly hot (90 degrees!) and we couldn't even muster the energy to heat our leftovers, let alone actually stand in front of the stove to cook anything.
To make this delicious meal vegetarian friendly, swap the chicken stock for vegetable stock and consider adding some tofu stir-fried in a bit of oil and garlic in place of the ham, or else add some nice sliced mushrooms.
Penne with Asparagus and Ham (depending on your portion sizes, this makes about 4-6 servings)
- 2 cups whole wheat penne OR linguini broken into 2-inch pieces
- 2 tsp olive oil
- 1 large tomato, chopped
- 3 thinly sliced garlic cloves
- 1 lb bunch of asparagus, cleaned and cut into 2-inch pieces (snap off and discard woody bottoms of stalks)
- 1 cup reduced sodium chicken broth
- 1 tbsp lemon juice
- 1 diced lean ham steak
- 1/4 cup chopped fresh basil
- 3 tbsp freshly grated Parmesan
Prepare pasta according to package directions and drain.
Heat oil in large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add tomato and garlic and cook, stirring occasionally, until tomato has softened, about 5 minutes. Inhale the delicious aroma of garlic and tomatoes cooking together and wonder to yourself what you did to deserve such a treat.
Add asparagus, broth, and lemon juice and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer until asparagus is tender, about 3 minutes. Use a fork to poke about at the asparagus and make sure it is to your liking.
Add pasta, ham, and basil and toss to combine. Allow everything to heat for a minute or two and then serve.Top each dish with Parmesan. (You remember my rant about fresh Parmesan, right? And you're not cheating by using that stuff that comes in the green tube that shall remain nameless, correct? Okay, good. Just making sure!)
Easter has never been a very big deal in my family. We usually gather at my aunt's house for a half-hearted egg hunt in her tiny backyard, chocolate bunnies, and a dinner of meatballs and ham. I think one reason I've never been very keen on Easter is those dreadful spiral-cut hams people have on Easter. A big, pink lump studded with cloves, covered in sweet sauce, and topped with pineapples is not my idea of how to honor a beautiful ham. To me, ham should be salty, because the natural subtle sweetness of the pork will shine through the brine. To cover a ham in sugar AND cloves AND fruit AND syrupy sweet stuff is just a crime. An absolute crime! Putting a bit of sugar on ham is okay by me ONLY if you are also putting savory spices on it, like cumin and paprika, and using the mixture as a nice rub. None of this gooey sweet ham nonsense. Honor your ham and lay off the pineapples! (I despise pineapples, mostly because they make my mouth incredibly itchy, but if they're your thing, go for it. Just don't let me see you putting them on a ham.)
Jeremy and I kept it pretty casual on Easter Sunday, but because I did want to at least do something a bit Eastery, I decided to make penne with asparagus and ham. It includes a lean ham steak, which you cut into tiny bits and add in at the end. This dish is lovely and light, yet lemony and flavorful, and it's also really healthy because it's pretty low in fat. In fact, it's a dish I got from a Weight Watchers cookbook, and Jeremy and I just love it. The best part of this dish is that you can also eat it cold, like a pasta salad, something that came in handy last night when it was freakishly hot (90 degrees!) and we couldn't even muster the energy to heat our leftovers, let alone actually stand in front of the stove to cook anything.
To make this delicious meal vegetarian friendly, swap the chicken stock for vegetable stock and consider adding some tofu stir-fried in a bit of oil and garlic in place of the ham, or else add some nice sliced mushrooms.
Penne with Asparagus and Ham (depending on your portion sizes, this makes about 4-6 servings)
- 2 cups whole wheat penne OR linguini broken into 2-inch pieces
- 2 tsp olive oil
- 1 large tomato, chopped
- 3 thinly sliced garlic cloves
- 1 lb bunch of asparagus, cleaned and cut into 2-inch pieces (snap off and discard woody bottoms of stalks)
- 1 cup reduced sodium chicken broth
- 1 tbsp lemon juice
- 1 diced lean ham steak
- 1/4 cup chopped fresh basil
- 3 tbsp freshly grated Parmesan
Prepare pasta according to package directions and drain.
Heat oil in large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add tomato and garlic and cook, stirring occasionally, until tomato has softened, about 5 minutes. Inhale the delicious aroma of garlic and tomatoes cooking together and wonder to yourself what you did to deserve such a treat.
Add asparagus, broth, and lemon juice and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer until asparagus is tender, about 3 minutes. Use a fork to poke about at the asparagus and make sure it is to your liking.
Add pasta, ham, and basil and toss to combine. Allow everything to heat for a minute or two and then serve.Top each dish with Parmesan. (You remember my rant about fresh Parmesan, right? And you're not cheating by using that stuff that comes in the green tube that shall remain nameless, correct? Okay, good. Just making sure!)
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Nutella bread pudding
Nutella! What glorious stuff, this chocolate hazelnut spread. It's the perfect flavor combination. The sheer genius of the stuff is that it pairs well with just about anything. You can have it on fruit, you can have it on toast, you can have it on a pretzel. It goes with most any dessert. Really, it is so versatile. It's like the friendly and amenable popular kid of spreadable foodstuffs.
I still remember when I first discovered Nutella, back when I was 22 or 23 and living on my own for the first time. I shared an apartment with two school teachers in Doylestown, PA, and I often went with one or the other one to the local supermarket to get groceries. Our closest supermarket was a Redner's Warehouse, which sold most things on the cheap, and which often carried somewhat odd brands of things. Next to the cans of Dole vegetables you'd find bizarre brands you'd never seen anywhere else, like Golden Medal sliced carrots or something. Most of the merchandise and the floor had a thin film of dust. It was a pretty ghetto warehouse supermarket, but we were young and poor, so it was fine with us. It was here that I first discovered Nutella, on the shelf with not-quite-Jif brands of peanut butter and not-really-Smuckers jars of jam. I loved Ferrero Rocher hazelnut chocolates, and really anything that Ferrero makes (Kinder eggs have a special place in my heart), so I figured, why not?
Oh, chocolately glory on a spoon! From the first, I was hooked. It was miraculous. You could eat it on anything! You could even eat it off the spoon and not get bored. I remember a ridiculously caloric concoction I would make involving toast with a layer of cheesecake-flavored cream cheese and another layer of Nutella. It was one step away from self-induced diabetes, and it was heavenly.
I don't always keep a jar of Nutella in the house, mostly because I know it wouldn't last long and would go straight to my thighs (what doesn't though?), but it is an indulgence I like to have around now and again. I recently discovered the Tuscan Pane loaf at Trader Joe's, and it was simply divine spread with a layer of Nutella.
I had some friends visiting this weekend, as I mentioned in my last post, so I decided to feed them some individual Nutella bread puddings that I found on the absolutely fantastic website Baking Bites. If you're ever in the mood to bake something and don't know what to make, go to that site and you will most certainly be sated. Trust me. It was while browsing the site one day that I discovered the glory that is Nutella bread pudding, and for that I will be eternally grateful.
I'm not even really a huge fan of bread pudding. Sometimes it's too soggy and custardy for my taste. But these are really a delight. They bake up thick and dense and yet simultaneously fluffy. The custard is the perfect consistency, especially as I tend to be jumpy around gelatinous foods. I made mine with half a loaf of challah bread and I'll probably use the rest of the loaf tonight to make more. And I was fortunate enough to find six adorable ramekins of the proper size at Marshall's to put them in.
They were a big hit with the ladies and with Jeremy, who shares my wariness of traditional bread puddings. They are the perfect portion size and are fantastic with a little dollop of vanilla ice cream. They are also easy to stash in the fridge. I think they taste amazing warm, so definitely nuke them for about a minute each before eating your leftovers. The best part of these is that they are impressive and delicious, and yet so easy to make that you can whip them up while you're waiting to serve dinner. In fact, that's just what I did. They take about 7 minutes to assemble, and that's including the 5 minutes it takes to let the bread soak in the custard mixture. (To be honest, I had cubed my challah bread ahead of time and stashed it in a large baggie, and that's what I recommend you do too.) While we ate dinner, they baked in the oven. (I found that mine took about 25 minutes to set and get gloriously puffy.) While we had seconds and chatted, they sat out and cooled and the ice cream thawed out a bit. And when we ate them, they were deliciously warm, rich, and melty. The Nutella flavor is not overwhelming, so if you want more of it, I'd say go ahead and add some more dollops to the custard batter. But they are truly delicious and so simple that I cannot recommend them highly enough. Get yourself a loaf of bread and a jar of Nutella and get baking. (That is, if you don't first eat the whole loaf of bread slathered in Nutella.)
UPDATE: Here is a poor-quality cell phone picture of one of my bread puddings in one of my new ramekins.
I still remember when I first discovered Nutella, back when I was 22 or 23 and living on my own for the first time. I shared an apartment with two school teachers in Doylestown, PA, and I often went with one or the other one to the local supermarket to get groceries. Our closest supermarket was a Redner's Warehouse, which sold most things on the cheap, and which often carried somewhat odd brands of things. Next to the cans of Dole vegetables you'd find bizarre brands you'd never seen anywhere else, like Golden Medal sliced carrots or something. Most of the merchandise and the floor had a thin film of dust. It was a pretty ghetto warehouse supermarket, but we were young and poor, so it was fine with us. It was here that I first discovered Nutella, on the shelf with not-quite-Jif brands of peanut butter and not-really-Smuckers jars of jam. I loved Ferrero Rocher hazelnut chocolates, and really anything that Ferrero makes (Kinder eggs have a special place in my heart), so I figured, why not?
Oh, chocolately glory on a spoon! From the first, I was hooked. It was miraculous. You could eat it on anything! You could even eat it off the spoon and not get bored. I remember a ridiculously caloric concoction I would make involving toast with a layer of cheesecake-flavored cream cheese and another layer of Nutella. It was one step away from self-induced diabetes, and it was heavenly.
I don't always keep a jar of Nutella in the house, mostly because I know it wouldn't last long and would go straight to my thighs (what doesn't though?), but it is an indulgence I like to have around now and again. I recently discovered the Tuscan Pane loaf at Trader Joe's, and it was simply divine spread with a layer of Nutella.
I had some friends visiting this weekend, as I mentioned in my last post, so I decided to feed them some individual Nutella bread puddings that I found on the absolutely fantastic website Baking Bites. If you're ever in the mood to bake something and don't know what to make, go to that site and you will most certainly be sated. Trust me. It was while browsing the site one day that I discovered the glory that is Nutella bread pudding, and for that I will be eternally grateful.
I'm not even really a huge fan of bread pudding. Sometimes it's too soggy and custardy for my taste. But these are really a delight. They bake up thick and dense and yet simultaneously fluffy. The custard is the perfect consistency, especially as I tend to be jumpy around gelatinous foods. I made mine with half a loaf of challah bread and I'll probably use the rest of the loaf tonight to make more. And I was fortunate enough to find six adorable ramekins of the proper size at Marshall's to put them in.
They were a big hit with the ladies and with Jeremy, who shares my wariness of traditional bread puddings. They are the perfect portion size and are fantastic with a little dollop of vanilla ice cream. They are also easy to stash in the fridge. I think they taste amazing warm, so definitely nuke them for about a minute each before eating your leftovers. The best part of these is that they are impressive and delicious, and yet so easy to make that you can whip them up while you're waiting to serve dinner. In fact, that's just what I did. They take about 7 minutes to assemble, and that's including the 5 minutes it takes to let the bread soak in the custard mixture. (To be honest, I had cubed my challah bread ahead of time and stashed it in a large baggie, and that's what I recommend you do too.) While we ate dinner, they baked in the oven. (I found that mine took about 25 minutes to set and get gloriously puffy.) While we had seconds and chatted, they sat out and cooled and the ice cream thawed out a bit. And when we ate them, they were deliciously warm, rich, and melty. The Nutella flavor is not overwhelming, so if you want more of it, I'd say go ahead and add some more dollops to the custard batter. But they are truly delicious and so simple that I cannot recommend them highly enough. Get yourself a loaf of bread and a jar of Nutella and get baking. (That is, if you don't first eat the whole loaf of bread slathered in Nutella.)
UPDATE: Here is a poor-quality cell phone picture of one of my bread puddings in one of my new ramekins.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Braise the Roof! Beer-braised pork butt
Last night I had a friend to visit from out of town. She used to live in Boston, so this was like a homecoming for her. Like a good Cubana, I decided to celebrate her visit in style and serve up a mouthwatering feast. Traditionally, Cubanos roast a pig in order to celebrate special occasions. Since I live in a shoebox in the middle of a city and don't have a purveyor of whole pigs on speed dial, I decided to use my beloved Dutch oven to braise up some pulled pork. If you can't have the whole pig, have a piece!
I found a great basic recipe on The Kitchn, which is for braising a bone-in pork shoulder. I've never looked for a pork shoulder before, and I was initially sadly disappointed, because neither the local Shaw's nor the butcher shop down the street had bone-in pork shoulder in the 4 to 5 pound range. The butcher shop had boneless pork butt but it was about 8 pounds. I was already trying to wrap my head around the size of a 5-pound piece of meat, so I had to decline. I ended up getting a 4.5 pound bone-in pork butt roast, figuring I'd just make due, but then I realized I did the right thing after all. The butt, I later discovered, is not the butt at all, but the upper part of the pork shoulder. What? The butt is not the butt? Whatever. I'll take it.
The website I linked to above was helpful in instructing me how to remove the excess layers of fat (of course, I left some bits of fat because braising just melts them away and turns everything into a pile of soft scrumptiousness), and it also provided a nice, basic but delicious recipe for braising the pork. I made it in my 5-quart Dutch oven, which fit the pork and veggies quite snuggly. The hardest part of this recipe is honestly the browning, because you have to use tongs and a giant fork to hoist a multi-pound, squiggly piece of meat and flip it around in a pot of hot oil. But it was worth it because this pork was astoundingly delicious.
I love braising! I love it. It is hands-off cooking. I spent four hours doing other things around the apartment, preparing other food, tidying up, showering, while my oven did all the work. The low and slow cooking procedure makes the meat soft as butter and also fills your house with a positively delectable aroma. And there is something immensely satisfying about pulling the pork off the bone. There are honestly very few of the "fatty" bits mentioned in the recipe above, because most of the fat melts and moistens the meat. I'll probably toss the fattier bits into a pan and saute them before adding them into a soup or something.
I made this for dinner and dressed it in the braising juice, served with potato-spinach casserole with individual Nutella bread puddings for dessert. (I'm saving those for another post!) Was it good? Well, considering that everyone got seconds, yes, it was a success. Tonight I'm going to toss some pork with barbecue sauce and serve them with slaw on rolls. NOMS. Yes, this will give you a lot of leftovers, but it is so versatile that it's hard to get sick of. I'll probably also make some carnitas tacos too. Yay, pork!
I found a great basic recipe on The Kitchn, which is for braising a bone-in pork shoulder. I've never looked for a pork shoulder before, and I was initially sadly disappointed, because neither the local Shaw's nor the butcher shop down the street had bone-in pork shoulder in the 4 to 5 pound range. The butcher shop had boneless pork butt but it was about 8 pounds. I was already trying to wrap my head around the size of a 5-pound piece of meat, so I had to decline. I ended up getting a 4.5 pound bone-in pork butt roast, figuring I'd just make due, but then I realized I did the right thing after all. The butt, I later discovered, is not the butt at all, but the upper part of the pork shoulder. What? The butt is not the butt? Whatever. I'll take it.
The website I linked to above was helpful in instructing me how to remove the excess layers of fat (of course, I left some bits of fat because braising just melts them away and turns everything into a pile of soft scrumptiousness), and it also provided a nice, basic but delicious recipe for braising the pork. I made it in my 5-quart Dutch oven, which fit the pork and veggies quite snuggly. The hardest part of this recipe is honestly the browning, because you have to use tongs and a giant fork to hoist a multi-pound, squiggly piece of meat and flip it around in a pot of hot oil. But it was worth it because this pork was astoundingly delicious.
I love braising! I love it. It is hands-off cooking. I spent four hours doing other things around the apartment, preparing other food, tidying up, showering, while my oven did all the work. The low and slow cooking procedure makes the meat soft as butter and also fills your house with a positively delectable aroma. And there is something immensely satisfying about pulling the pork off the bone. There are honestly very few of the "fatty" bits mentioned in the recipe above, because most of the fat melts and moistens the meat. I'll probably toss the fattier bits into a pan and saute them before adding them into a soup or something.
I made this for dinner and dressed it in the braising juice, served with potato-spinach casserole with individual Nutella bread puddings for dessert. (I'm saving those for another post!) Was it good? Well, considering that everyone got seconds, yes, it was a success. Tonight I'm going to toss some pork with barbecue sauce and serve them with slaw on rolls. NOMS. Yes, this will give you a lot of leftovers, but it is so versatile that it's hard to get sick of. I'll probably also make some carnitas tacos too. Yay, pork!
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Cheesy baked tortellini: feed a crowd!
Spring is springing, which means most of us Bostonians are crawling out of our winter-induced period of hibernation. The time is here to socialize with friends, frisk about in lighter jackets and less layers of clothing, and get down to some serious spring cleaning.
Even though I live in a tiny apartment with a weird layout that is unconducive to group socializing, I still love to have people over. Recently I tried out a slightly altered version of a tortellini bake I found online, and it was fantastic! It's incredibly easy to throw together, and it's tasty and filling. I altered a few of the measurements and switched out a couple of things. This recipe is great because you can cut it in half to make less, or leave it at the measurements below to feed a crowd.
Cheesy Baked Tortellini
Whisk the sauce, mascarpone cheese, parsley, and Italian seasoning in a large bowl to blend. Cook the tortellini in a large pot of boiling salted water until just tender. Drain. Add the tortellini to the sauce and toss to coat.
Transfer the tortellini mixture to the prepared baking dish. Top the mixture with the mozzarella and Parmesan. Cover with foil and bake until the sauce bubbles and the cheeses on top melt, about 30 minutes.
Even though I live in a tiny apartment with a weird layout that is unconducive to group socializing, I still love to have people over. Recently I tried out a slightly altered version of a tortellini bake I found online, and it was fantastic! It's incredibly easy to throw together, and it's tasty and filling. I altered a few of the measurements and switched out a couple of things. This recipe is great because you can cut it in half to make less, or leave it at the measurements below to feed a crowd.
Cheesy Baked Tortellini
- 4 cups marinara or other pasta sauce
- 8 oz mascarpone cheese
- 1/2 cup chopped Italian parsley leaves
- 1 tbsp Italian seasoning
- 2 lbs cheese tortellini
- 4 oz mozzarella cheese, thinly sliced
- 1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan or Parmesan cheese blend
Whisk the sauce, mascarpone cheese, parsley, and Italian seasoning in a large bowl to blend. Cook the tortellini in a large pot of boiling salted water until just tender. Drain. Add the tortellini to the sauce and toss to coat.
Transfer the tortellini mixture to the prepared baking dish. Top the mixture with the mozzarella and Parmesan. Cover with foil and bake until the sauce bubbles and the cheeses on top melt, about 30 minutes.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Warm Belgian endive salad with pine nuts
The weather is getting GORGEOUS outside, and it's all I can do not to spend the day frolicking in the sunshiney goodness rather than sitting at my desk working, or blogging. Spring means all sorts of delicious and delightful things are going to start growing and tickling the senses and the palette.
Spring, to me, means lovely growing things and lighter meals, and since I was recently on an endive kick, I decided to find a salad recipe using endive. I found one online that's made with a simple dijon vinaigrette that is positively scrumptious. I've modified it slightly and am including it below.
The thing that is so good about this salad is that heating the endive in the pan mellows out the flavor and makes it a lovely warm temperature without sacrificing the thick, toothy crunch of an uncooked endive. I decided to put the endive on a bed of spring mix greens, so I doubled the amount of the dressing I made. I'll give you the measurements for making one batch, which is tossed with the endive while you're cooking it, and then make a second batch using the same measurements to drizzle over the greens at the end. I made this recently for Jeremy and myself and it filled two big plates, so it served as our main course, but you can, of course, use this as a salad portion and dole it out to more people. Also, Jeremy and I added a few slices of torn-up thin-sliced serrano ham that we had leftover and it was scrumptious.
Warm Belgian Endive and Pine Nut Salad
Remove outer leaves of the endive, if necessary, and cut off the bottom stalk. Cut each endive crosswise into rings and rinse in a colander. Shake it around to separate the rings and allow to drain. Maybe give them a quick pat with a paper towel. As I mentioned in my last entry about endive, you don't really have to do much washing because they are grown underground and have never been in dirt.)
In a large dry skillet over medium heat, toast the pine nuts, stirring constantly to avoid burning, until golden brown. Add the endive and warm slightly, then add the first batch of dressing and toss everything around in the pan to coat. Lower the heat, if necessary, to prevent the endive from wilting. You want to make sure that they are just heated through and the slightest bit tender while still retaining a nice crunch. Remove from heat.
Make a second batch of the dressing. Add a generous pile of spring mix or other mild salad greens to each dish and toss each with some of the dressing. Add the endive and nuts. Top with bits of shredded ham, freshly grated parmesan, and a sprinkle of fresh parsley. Enjoy the tangy goodness of the dressing and the crunchiness of the endive. Be amazed that such a simple combination of ingredients could be so scrumptious, and revel in the freshness that means spring is coming.
Also, get creative in terms of nuts. Try using almonds, walnuts, or hazelnuts if pine nuts don't appeal to you or are out of your price range.
Spring, to me, means lovely growing things and lighter meals, and since I was recently on an endive kick, I decided to find a salad recipe using endive. I found one online that's made with a simple dijon vinaigrette that is positively scrumptious. I've modified it slightly and am including it below.
The thing that is so good about this salad is that heating the endive in the pan mellows out the flavor and makes it a lovely warm temperature without sacrificing the thick, toothy crunch of an uncooked endive. I decided to put the endive on a bed of spring mix greens, so I doubled the amount of the dressing I made. I'll give you the measurements for making one batch, which is tossed with the endive while you're cooking it, and then make a second batch using the same measurements to drizzle over the greens at the end. I made this recently for Jeremy and myself and it filled two big plates, so it served as our main course, but you can, of course, use this as a salad portion and dole it out to more people. Also, Jeremy and I added a few slices of torn-up thin-sliced serrano ham that we had leftover and it was scrumptious.
Warm Belgian Endive and Pine Nut Salad
- 1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
- 1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
- 1/2 tablespoon lemon juice
- 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, or as needed
- salt and pepper to taste
- 4 heads Belgian endive (we only had 3 and it was plenty, since they were each a decent size)
- 1/3 cup pine nuts
- 1 tablespoon chopped fresh parsley, for garnish
Remove outer leaves of the endive, if necessary, and cut off the bottom stalk. Cut each endive crosswise into rings and rinse in a colander. Shake it around to separate the rings and allow to drain. Maybe give them a quick pat with a paper towel. As I mentioned in my last entry about endive, you don't really have to do much washing because they are grown underground and have never been in dirt.)
In a large dry skillet over medium heat, toast the pine nuts, stirring constantly to avoid burning, until golden brown. Add the endive and warm slightly, then add the first batch of dressing and toss everything around in the pan to coat. Lower the heat, if necessary, to prevent the endive from wilting. You want to make sure that they are just heated through and the slightest bit tender while still retaining a nice crunch. Remove from heat.
Make a second batch of the dressing. Add a generous pile of spring mix or other mild salad greens to each dish and toss each with some of the dressing. Add the endive and nuts. Top with bits of shredded ham, freshly grated parmesan, and a sprinkle of fresh parsley. Enjoy the tangy goodness of the dressing and the crunchiness of the endive. Be amazed that such a simple combination of ingredients could be so scrumptious, and revel in the freshness that means spring is coming.
Also, get creative in terms of nuts. Try using almonds, walnuts, or hazelnuts if pine nuts don't appeal to you or are out of your price range.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Braise the Roof! Braised Belgian endive with ham
As the joyous recent owner of a beautiful Le Creuset dutch oven, among other fabulous kitchen gadgets, I have been looking for more ways to use these things to make new recipes. Since one of the things a dutch oven is best for is braising, I recently checked out a book from the library called All About Braising by Molly Stevens. It's a great cookbook that explains in clear detail what braising is and how different kitchen gadgets can be used to achieve different results. Braising is "Low and Slow" cooking: a process of cooking food, covered, in a small amount of fat and liquid at a sustained temperature for a longer amount of time. This makes for juicy, tender food. Think of your slow-cooker pot. This is basically really, really long braising. When braising meat and some vegetables, you will often first have to brown the meat or veggies in fat before adding to the liquid to braise. This almost creates a protective "armor" on the outside of the food, making a crisp outer crust that helps to seal in the tender deliciousness inside.
The book is divided into chapters by ingredients; there's one for vegetables and then the ones following are each devoted to a type of meat. She also offers lots of tips throughout and at the end for choosing and storing ingredients too. Overall it's a great book. I had to return it before I got to try out more recipes, but the one for braised Belgian endive with ham is pretty tasty and turned me on to a veggie I'd never tried before.
Endive is actually the root of chicory that is grown in darkness, hence its white color. They have a mild, somewhat bitter tang to them that isn't unpleasant. Jeremy and I paired this recipe with our belated Valentine's pork chops and they were the perfect complement. Molly Stevens explains that braising endive turns the bitterness into "something marvelously complex and luscious" and she's right. It becomes tender and soft and silky.
When selecting Belgian endive, look for firm, tightly packed bulbs that are as pale as possible. If the tips of the leaves are more than the palest green, don't select them. Endive can be pricey, so choose them carefully. For our recipe, I bought 6 endive and used 3. (I save the other 3 for a delicious salad I'll share later.) I found that the proportions for this recipe, which were for 6 endive, worked perfectly well for just 3 of them. But certainly if you have more mouths to feed and a bigger dish, make 6 or 9 of them.
Braised Belgian endive with ham
- 6 Belgian endive
- 3 tbsp unsalted butter
- 4 thin slices of prosciutto or serrano ham (we used serrano), or another comparable good-quality salty ham (don't use these to make the dish vegetarian), cut or torn into small strips or bits
- salt and pepper
- 1/2 cup of chicken stock
-1/4 to 1/3 cup of heavy cream
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Butter a ceramic or glass gratin dish that will accommodate the amount of endive you are cooking snugly. (Molly suggests a 9x13 dish, but we made only 3 so our dish was smaller)
Remove the outer leaves of each endive and trim the stalky bottom off of each. Cut each in half lengthwise.
Melt 2 tbsp butter in a large skillet over medium heat. When the butter just stops foaming, add as many endive as will fit in a loose layer cut side down and brown them for about 4 minutes. Using tongs, carefully turn them over to brown for a minute or two on the other side. Transfer them to the gratin dish cut side up. Use the rest of the butter to brown the rest of the endive.
There should still be a film of butter on the inside of the skillet. Add the ham bits and turn to coat them with the butter. After just a minute or two in the skillet, remove them and add them to the gratin dish, tucking them in between the endive and laying some on top. Add a bit of salt and pepper to your gratin dish (easy on the salt, as the ham and the forthcoming stock are both salty).
Add the stock to the pan and bring to a boil over high heat. Stir up the browned bits stuck to the bottom of the pan and pour the hot stock over the endive in the gratin dish.
Cover the dish tightly with foil and braise in the oven for 30 to 35 minutes until the endive are collapsed and tender when pierced with a knife. They will have a burnished hue.
Remove the foil and baste the endive in the pan juices. If the pan is dry, add 2 tbsp of water. Braise uncovered for another 8 to 10 minutes, until the pan juices turn caramel colored and have almost completely evaporated. Pour over the heavy cream (use the greater amount for a richer taste) and bake another 6 minutes or so, until the cream takes on a caramel color and has thickened to a sauce consistency. Allow to cool for a few minutes before serving with the sauce.
These were a delicious accompaniment to the sweetness of the pork chops: the mellow, slightly bitter tang and soft, melt-in-your-mouth texture accompanied by the creamy sauce and bits of ham. Heavenly!
The book is divided into chapters by ingredients; there's one for vegetables and then the ones following are each devoted to a type of meat. She also offers lots of tips throughout and at the end for choosing and storing ingredients too. Overall it's a great book. I had to return it before I got to try out more recipes, but the one for braised Belgian endive with ham is pretty tasty and turned me on to a veggie I'd never tried before.
Endive is actually the root of chicory that is grown in darkness, hence its white color. They have a mild, somewhat bitter tang to them that isn't unpleasant. Jeremy and I paired this recipe with our belated Valentine's pork chops and they were the perfect complement. Molly Stevens explains that braising endive turns the bitterness into "something marvelously complex and luscious" and she's right. It becomes tender and soft and silky.
When selecting Belgian endive, look for firm, tightly packed bulbs that are as pale as possible. If the tips of the leaves are more than the palest green, don't select them. Endive can be pricey, so choose them carefully. For our recipe, I bought 6 endive and used 3. (I save the other 3 for a delicious salad I'll share later.) I found that the proportions for this recipe, which were for 6 endive, worked perfectly well for just 3 of them. But certainly if you have more mouths to feed and a bigger dish, make 6 or 9 of them.
Braised Belgian endive with ham
- 6 Belgian endive
- 3 tbsp unsalted butter
- 4 thin slices of prosciutto or serrano ham (we used serrano), or another comparable good-quality salty ham (don't use these to make the dish vegetarian), cut or torn into small strips or bits
- salt and pepper
- 1/2 cup of chicken stock
-1/4 to 1/3 cup of heavy cream
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Butter a ceramic or glass gratin dish that will accommodate the amount of endive you are cooking snugly. (Molly suggests a 9x13 dish, but we made only 3 so our dish was smaller)
Remove the outer leaves of each endive and trim the stalky bottom off of each. Cut each in half lengthwise.
Melt 2 tbsp butter in a large skillet over medium heat. When the butter just stops foaming, add as many endive as will fit in a loose layer cut side down and brown them for about 4 minutes. Using tongs, carefully turn them over to brown for a minute or two on the other side. Transfer them to the gratin dish cut side up. Use the rest of the butter to brown the rest of the endive.
There should still be a film of butter on the inside of the skillet. Add the ham bits and turn to coat them with the butter. After just a minute or two in the skillet, remove them and add them to the gratin dish, tucking them in between the endive and laying some on top. Add a bit of salt and pepper to your gratin dish (easy on the salt, as the ham and the forthcoming stock are both salty).
Add the stock to the pan and bring to a boil over high heat. Stir up the browned bits stuck to the bottom of the pan and pour the hot stock over the endive in the gratin dish.
Cover the dish tightly with foil and braise in the oven for 30 to 35 minutes until the endive are collapsed and tender when pierced with a knife. They will have a burnished hue.
Remove the foil and baste the endive in the pan juices. If the pan is dry, add 2 tbsp of water. Braise uncovered for another 8 to 10 minutes, until the pan juices turn caramel colored and have almost completely evaporated. Pour over the heavy cream (use the greater amount for a richer taste) and bake another 6 minutes or so, until the cream takes on a caramel color and has thickened to a sauce consistency. Allow to cool for a few minutes before serving with the sauce.
These were a delicious accompaniment to the sweetness of the pork chops: the mellow, slightly bitter tang and soft, melt-in-your-mouth texture accompanied by the creamy sauce and bits of ham. Heavenly!
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