IvysFeast

Mmm, Umami! Mushroom & Rosemary Risotto

2011-08-08T11:43:00.000-07:00

Ahoy Foodies!

Sorry I've been MIA, Mr. Tofu and I have been traipsing about Norway and Denmark, eating fish and taking pictures for the last few weeks. Several posts are to follow on that. In the meantime, I needed good ol' comfort food. The kind of comfort that only a casserole could provide.

So I picked up author Faith Durand's new book, Not Your Mother's Casseroles for inspiration, and yowza, did I ever find it! I've marked 30 pages of recipes to try right away--from Lemon Brioche French Toast to Asian Cabbage Rolls. True to its name, this book has nothing to do with the tater tot-topped casseroles we grew up with.

The first recipe to really catch my eye and send me marching to the kitchen was Faith's recipe for oven-baked Mushroom and Rosemary Risotto. Faith starts the recipe with dried porcini and shiitake mushrooms, so you know it's going to be full of savory umami-ness.

When it comes to dried shiitake mushrooms, I don't mess around. I buy my shiitakes from Serenity Art, a wonderful tea shop in the Fubon shopping center where Mr. Tofu buys his ultra premium green tea.
In a huge glass apothecary jar right next to the gnarled roots of ginseng and shaved chips of cloud ear fungus, you will find dried shiitake mushrooms that have dark, meaty caps with deep white fissures in the top. The nice lady lifts the heavy glass lid, you get one whiff and you're in mushroom heaven! The tiny dried mushrooms sold in tiny cellophane packs in grocery stores simply cannot hold a candle to these babies.

The combo of really good dried mushrooms, fresh rosemary, and a few spoonfuls of mascarpone cheese make this one of the best and easiest ways to make risotto I've ever attempted. We had it with slow baked salmon since we still haven't had our fill of fish, even after the fish 3-meals a day diet we were on in Scandinavia. More about that soon. Until then, enjoy Faith's hard work, and read more of her stuff at The Kitchn.com.

Baked Mushroom and Rosemary Risotto
from Not Your Mother's Casseroles, by Faith Durand

1/2 ounce dried porcini mushrooms
1/2 ounce dried shiitake mushrooms (about 5 caps)
2 cups boiling water
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 small yellow onion, finely chopped
4 cloves garlic, minced
One 4-inch sprig fresh rosemary
1 cup Arborio or other short grain white rice
1/2 cup dry white wine, such as Sauvignon Blanc
2 cups low sodium chicken or vegetable broth
1/2 teaspoon salt, or to taste
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, or to taste
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
4 ounces mascarpone cheese
Parmesan cheese curls, for garnish

1. Preheat oven to 300 F. Rinse the dried mushrooms lightly. Place the mushrooms in a ceramic bowl and pour the boiling water over them.

2. Heat the butter in a Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the onion and cook, stirring occasionally, for about 8 minutes, or until soft and golden.

3. Drain the mushrooms, reserving the liquid. Chop the mushroom caps, discarding shiitake stems. Add the mushrooms, garlic and rosemary sprig to the pan and saute on low heat for about 10 minutes, or until the mushrooms have sweated out some moisture and the garlic is fragrant and golden.

4. Add the rice and cook, stirring once or twice, for about 4 minutes, or until the rice begins to turn transparent around the edges.

5. Turn the heat to high and add the white wine, broth, and reserved mushroom steeping liquid. Bring to a boil, cover the pan and put it in the oven to bake for 20 minutes.

6. Remove and stir in the salt, pepper, nutmeg, and mascarpone cheese. Return the casserole to the oven for 15 minutes. Remove from oven and stir vigorously. Serve garnished with Parmesan curls.

Humble Pie- Huckleberry Pie with Hazelnut Struesel

2011-07-05T22:00:00.000-07:00

Ahoy Foodies!

When my husband Mr. Tofu talks about our early courtship, he likes to tell the story about the day he took one of my homemade pies to work. He put it on the break room table and co-workers flocked. One particularly astute pie-loving colleague took a bite, smiled at Mr. Tofu and said, "This is pretty much the best dating experience for you ever, isn't it?"

Which is funny, because I'm not even good at pies. I fall down when it comes to the crimping part, every time. My crust is flaky, my fillings divine, and I dare say I'm a struesel specialist. But when it comes to the edges, my pies are not perfect, they're shaggy as hell. I end up apologizing for my crimping and every time Mr. Tofu looks deeply into my eyes and says, "Hon, it's fine. It's perfect. It's the best pie I've ever had." Sigh. He always does that, assures me when I'm freaking out because it's not perfect.

But come to think of it, that's a good part of why I married the guy. Who doesn't need that assurance now and then? Especially when it comes to pie dough. That's why Shauna James Ahern has decided to put all of the blogosphere's pie dough fears to rest with this pie e-event. Well, I can't really coach you on perfect crimping technique (see the photos), but what I can do is give you a really kick-ass huckleberry pie recipe and some pie dough tips.

In this recipe, I use pie filling from Packard Orchards and Bakery, a nice stop on the stunning Hood River Fruit Loop here in Oregon. They are also at farmer's markets around Portland, and if you call them in advance, I'm sure they'd be happy to bring some huckleberry filling with them to the next farmer's market.

Huckleberries are wild, tiny, and they're only around for a fleeting week or so in summer. They also cost a mint when they are around. Add all this up, and I don't feel too bad using a pre-made huckleberry pie filling. Packard's pie filling is a really good choice--full of the sweet, grapey, blueberry flavor that only my favorite berry can deliver.

And as for the crimping? Well, Mr. Tofu swears the crust is just fine. That's good enough for me.

Huckleberry Pie with Hazelnut Streusel Topping

Makes 1 8 to 9-inch pie

For the pie dough (makes dough for two 9” pies):

2 ½ cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon salt

2 tablespoons sugar

8 tablespoons vegetable shortening, chilled

12 tablespoons unsalted butter, chilled and cut into 1/2 inch pieces

6-8 tablespoons ice water

For the streusel:

3 tablespoons all-purpose flour

3 tablespoons firmly packed brown sugar

4 teaspoons sugar

1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg

1 pinch salt

3 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/4-inch pieces

1/3 cup old fashioned rolled oats

1/2 cup toasted hazelnuts, skinned and chopped

Half of a 32-ounce jar huckleberry pie filling

In a food processor, pulse the flour, salt and sugar until combined. Add the shortening and process until it looks like coarse sand, 10 seconds. Add the butter pieces and pulse the food processor on and off until you’ve got coarse meal….no butter pieces larger than the size of a pea.

In a medium bowl, mix the flour-butter mixture with 6 tablespoons of water and toss with a fork. Add 1 tablespoon of water at a time until the dough just come together, about 2 more tablespoons. Divide the dough into 2 discs, wrap them in plastic and chuck them in the freezer for 30 minutes.

Return the food processor work bowl to the processor and pulse the streusel ingredients until you have a coarse, crumbly texture. Keep in the refrigerator until ready to use.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Very lightly flour a work surface and roll one disk of dough into a 11-inch disk. Carefully center the dough over a pie plate. Tuck in the dough hanging over the sides of the pan to make a double-thick edge all the way around the edges of the pan. The crimping is up to you.

Fill the pie with the filling to within 1/2 inch of the top of the pan. Sprinkle with the streusel and freeze the pie for 15 minutes to set the crust. Place the pie on a rimmed baking sheet and bake until the crust is golden brown, about 45 minutes. Serve warm, with ice cream on the side.

PIE DOUGH TIPS

Keep shortening in the refrigerator at all times to make sure it’s chilled thoroughly.

If you undermix, the crust will shrink when you bake it and be crackly.

If you overmix, the dough will be crumbly and hard to work with.

Too much water and the gluten will overdevelop, making the crust tough.

Don’t use too much flour when rolling it out, it dries out the dough and toughens the dough.

Thinking Outside The Bag- Homemade Baked Potato Chips

2011-06-09T16:34:00.000-07:00

Ahoy Foodies!

My very favorite quote by a famous person is from Dolly Parton, who once was asked is she had a sweet tooth. She batted her long, plastic eyelashes and said, "Oh honey, I'd much rather eat one potato than a whole pie!"

I remember thinking, "I like Dolly. She's my kind of gal."

Just like Miss Parton, if I'm given the choice between one salty pretzel or a whole pan of brownies, I'll pick the pretzel every time. I love salty snacks that much. So it would follow that I'd be a huge fan of potato chips, right? Nope. To these tastebuds, deep fried potato chips are greasy, too salty, and actually too crisp, especially the thick cut "kettle cooked" chips. Bleck, why eat a snack that requires a shower afterward?

I do love potatoes, however, and I adore anything "sour cream and onion" flavored. So I figured out how to make homemade baked potato chips that were thin, crispy, and not at all greasy. The recipe is something like a tuile, in that they're baked rounds of thin batter made up of egg whites, starch, oil, and seasonings.

Instead of flour and sugar though, these tuiles are made with instant mashed potatoes. I know, I know, instant mashers can hardly be considered food, especially when prepared as directed. BUT, make a thin batter with them and add a little onion-chive-garlic seasoning blend and you've got a stack of incredibly thin, airy, potato crisps that are very hard to stop eating. Plus, they're a lot healthier than the chips in a bag. I think Dolly would approve, don't you?

Baked Sour Cream and Onion Potato Crisps

Makes 2 dozen three-inch rounds

4 egg whites
1 1/2 cups warm water
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 cup dry instant mashed potatoes
3 teaspoons onion-garlic seasoning blend, such as Spice House Lakeshore Drive Seasoning

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Line 2 rimmed baking sheets with Silpat mats or stiff (bleached) parchment paper.

In a medium mixing bowl, whisk the egg whites until frothy. Add the water, olive oil, potatoes, and seasoning blend. Stir until smooth with a rubber spatula and set aside for 5 minutes.

Drop even tablespoons of the batter onto the prepared baking sheets (6 crisps per sheet) and use an offset spatula to spread the batter out evenly into 3-inch rounds. This takes a bit of practice, but after the first few, they get easier to smooth out fully.

Bake the crisps for 20 to 25 minutes, rotating the pans once during cooking, until the crisps are golden brown. Transfer the crisps to a cooling rack. (You may need to return a few of the crisps to the oven to further dry them out while the others cool.) Keep in an airtight container for up to 3 days.

Dessert All Wrapped Up-Summer Fruit en Papillote Recipe

2011-06-01T14:18:00.000-07:00

Ahoy Foodies!

I was wandering through the produce aisle yesterday and blammo! I got one whiff of the sweet, floral, fruity poem of white peaches and I totally forgot what I was doing. My nose drove my cart over to the delicate little pyramidal configuration of white peaches. I picked one up, closed my eyes, and put my nose to the peach's belly button. The aroma. It's like standing under a lilac tree while chewing on a Jolly Rancher. Fruit, floral, fuzz. It's all there. I probably murmured to myself as I sniffed. I probably made a scene. I don't recall. I did come home with a dozen peaches, this I know.

When delicate California white peaches first come into season, I dare to eat them one after the other. Preferably with my hair parted behind, while walking upon the beach in white flannel trousers. You know, while listening to mermaids singing, each to each. 'Cuz that's how English majors do.

But after eating my 6th peach out of hand, I began to think that perhaps I should do something different with peach number 7. It's never wise to mess with perfection, and raw peaches are indeed the highest form a fruit can take, but I'd been working on a story about cooking in parchment paper (en papillote), so I've had high temp roasting in paper on the brain. Tender fish is good baked in parchment. Tender meat and vegetables are good baked in parchment. Why wouldn't tender white peaches and raspberries work in parchment?

They do. Very well. Toss some sliced white peaches and raspberries with sugar, real vanilla bean, a bit of Grand Marnier. Place the fruit on a square of buttered parchment. Gather up the ends to make a wee beggar's purse and tie it with a string. Bake it until the fruit ant the kitchen smell really, really good. About 10 minutes.

Then the really fun part comes. Put the wee purse in a bowl, open it up at the table, spoon in hand. There will be a rush of juicy, fruity steam rising from the packet as you open it that can only be described as scrumtrulescent. Plop a scoop of ice cream in the center of it all. Perfect summer fruit.

PS. I'll be migrating over to Wordpress soon to bring you a more delicious blog. Hopefully you'll be automatically redirected if you come to this site, but stay tuned for the big move. Thanks for reading.

White Peaches & Raspberries En Papillote

Makes 4 individual purses, serves 4

1/2 vanilla pod, sticky black seeds scraped from pod

2 teaspoons lemon juice

4 medium white peaches, pitted and cut into 1 inch-thick pieces

1 cup fresh raspberries

3 tablespoons sugar

1 tablespoon Grand Marnier

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

Four 12-inch lengths of parchment paper

Four 4-inch pieces butcher's twine

1/2 pint vanilla ice cream

Preheat oven to 425° F. In a large bowl, combine the vanilla seeds and lemon juice. Add the peaches, raspberries, sugar, and orange liqueur and toss to combine.

Spread the butter in a 4-inch circle in the center of each piece of parchment. Place the fruit mixture in the center, gather up the edges to make a little beggar's purse and tie each purse with with the twine. Place the purses on a baking sheet and bake until you can see the fruit juices bubbling on the inside, 10 minutes.

Place the purses in dessert bowls, invite diners to cut open their own purses and then plunk down scoops of ice cream on top of the fruit.

Prickly Situation- Forager's Soup with Nettles and Ramps

2011-05-16T10:46:00.000-07:00

Ahoy Foodies!
(NKDRRUUYHBR5)
If you've picked up a food magazine or newspaper food section in the last year, you've been informed that foraging is hot hot hot. Chefs like René Redzepi of NOMA, Matt Lightner of Castagna, Dominique Crenn of Atelier Crenn are all scouring the forest floor looking for wild edibles, or they're hiring foragers to do it for them.

In an effort to keep up with all the wildness, I've been reading The Forgotten Skills of the Kitchen by Darina Allen. Allen is the Irish owner/instructor of the famed Ballymaloe Cooking School in County Cork, Ireland and knows a thing or two about wild eats, foraging has been an Irish tradition spanning back generations. Her amazing book includes a whole chapter on wild foods, and the lady picks her own limpets, for Pete's sake!

I was particularly taken with a recipe in the book called Forager's Soup. In the recipe, Allen suggests you should use dandelions, watercress, wild sorrel, nettles, etc. to make a pureed soup thickened with potatoes and cream, finished with sizzled Spanish chorizo. I riffed on the idea here, using stinging nettles I found at the farmer's market instead of a wide selection of greens.

I added ramps to the soup, because they are stunningly beautiful and their tender greens and purplish/white stalks add a snappy garlic flavor to everything they associate with (including your refrigerator contents...wrap them up tightly in a ziplock bag when storing!)

A quick saute of everything in butter, some mild vegetable stock, and a 20 minute simmer and the soup was done! To make the soup silky and smooth, I used a stick blender to blend the soup. And as always, I tasted the soup a few times to correct the seasoning. It was wonderful...green, garlicky, soothing. I set the table, sliced some homemade rye bread, and then offhandedly mentioned to my husband Mr. Tofu that I suddenly had a scratchy throat that was really bugging me.

He responded, "Yeah, that happened when I took stinging nettle tablets to try and correct my allergies. Are you allergic to nettles? I am."

Sigh. I took one longing look at the delicious pot of beautiful green soup and decided it probably wasn't worth eating a bowl of it if it meant running the risk of having my throat close up. IF you're NOT allergic to nettles, I really recommend this recipe. It's delicious.

Forager's Soup with Nettles and Ramps

Serves 6

8 ounces stinging nettles
2 tablespoons butter
2 young leeks, white and green parts only, thinly sliced
1 bunch ramps
1 (12-ounce) russet potato, peeled and thinly sliced
4 cups mild vegetable or chicken stock
2 cups warm water
Salt and pepper
2 ounces Spanish chorizo, diced

Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Wear gloves and use tongs to transfer the nettles to the pot. Cook, stirring frequently, until the the nettles are wilted and tender, 4 minutes. Drain. Use sharp little scissors to clip off the nettles largest stems, discard.

Rinse the ramps well, trim off root end and discard. Thinly slice the bulb end. Roughly chop the green part of the ramps and set aside with the nettles.

In a large soup pot, melt the butter over medium heat. Add the leeks and white part of the ramps and saute until they are translucent, 5 minutes. Add the nettles, green ramp leaves, potato, stock, and water. Bring to a simmer, cover and cook until the potato is fall-apart tender, 15-20 minutes. Do not overcook or the greens will go drab. Puree the soup, season with salt and pepper.

In a small saute pan, cook the chorizo over medium heat until it has rendered all it's fat and is slightly crispy. Drizzle the chorizo and fat over bowls of the soup. Recipe by Ivy Manning, Photos by Gregor Torrence (Mr. Tofu), 2011, all rights reserved.

Pining For Pie Plant-A Love Letter To Rhubarb

2011-05-03T10:27:00.000-07:00

Ahoy Foodies!

Finally, spring is here. You can't tell by the weather around these parts, but I know it by the little rhubarb plant in my back yard. We accidentally built our raised bed garden over it, but it keeps coming back around one edge of the planter box, year after year. A faithful and loyal plant that announces that spring has, if not sprung, at least decided to be near.

Since the little plant is challenged, what with tons of soil and wood pushing down on part of it, I always feel just a little guilty cutting the stalks for pie. This year, to honor the little-plant-that-could, I made something really special with it. Not just a plain ol' rhubarb pie, but a tart, a really special tart.

I treated the stalks to a long, slow stew with a whole vanilla bean, and not too much sugar. I tucked it into a butter-egg yolk tart crust. I sprinkled the tart with a cinnamon-oat streusel, for a crispy counterpart to the creamy rhubarb. And then I topped it with a scoop of homemade sour cream brown sugar ice cream, a crown befitting royalty.

So now that is done, Spring has officially sprung. Now, I'm going outside to tell my little pea shoots that it's time for them to get going. Maybe if I blow on them, they'll grow a little faster...

Rhubarb Struesel Tart with Sour Cream Brown Sugar Ice Cream

Makes 1 9-inch tart

For the Tart Crust:
1 1/2 cups flour
1/4 cup sugar
1 pinch salt
1/2 cup cold unsalted butter, diced
2 egg yolks
For the Streusel:
4 1/2 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, diced
1/4 cup sugar
1/3 cup flour
3 tablespoons old fashioned oats
For the Filling:
1 pound rhubarb, thinly sliced (about 4 1/2 cups)
2/3 cup brown sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 vanilla bean
For the Ice Cream:
2 cups half-and-half
1 1/4 cups brown sugar
8 egg yolks
2 cups sour cream

In a food processor, pulse the flour, sugar, salt, and butter until butter is in little pieces no larger than a pea. Whisk yolks in a measuring cup and add enough water to make 1/4 cup of liquid. Add to flour mixture and pulse until dough just comes together. Wrap in plastic and chill for 1 hour. Roll out on a lightly floured surface into a 12-inch round. Ease the dough into a tart pan and trim ends. Refrigerate until ready to use.

Preheat the oven to 375 F. Make the streusel by pulsing ingredients in a food processor until crumbly. Refrigerate until ready to use. To make the filling, combine the rhubarb, sugar, and cinnamon in a medium saucepan. Split the vanilla bean lengthwise and use a butter knife to scrape out the seeds. Add the seeds and pod to the pan. Bring to a simmer over low heat and cook, stirring frequently, until the rhubarb is tender, almost falling apart. Place in a wide bowl and refrigerate until filling is room temperature.

Place the tart shell on a baking sheet lined with foil. Fill with the rhubarb, discarding vanilla pod. Sprinkle with the struesel mixture and bake until bubbly and golden brown, 45 minutes. When cool enough to handle, remove tart ring and serve with ice cream.

For the ice cream, scald the half and half over medium heat. In a large bowl, whisk the brown sugar and egg yolks together. Slowly whisk in half the half-and-half. Return mixture to saucepan and cook over medium-low heat, stirring constantly, until the mixture coats the spoon, 5 minutes. Do not simmer. Strain mixture through a fine sieve, whisk in the sour cream and chill until cold. Freeze in an ice cream maker according to machine instructions.
-Adapted from The Farm to Table Cookbook, by Ivy Manning (Sasquatch, 2008)

Sunny Luxury- Spanish Olive Oil, Orange, and Anise Crackers

2011-04-09T18:42:00.000-07:00

Ahoy Foodies!

We all have moments of weakness. Mine usually come in the "specialty" aisle of the grocery store. You know, where they keep all the things labeled "triple cream," "imported," and "extra virgin." They might as well have a big banner that reads "Welcome Ye Of Little Self Control!" One of my dirtiest little specialty secrets is Spanish Torta de Aceite--crisp olive oil crackers handmade in Seville and anywhere else in Spain there is olive oil just laying around.

The tortas come individually wrapped in wax paper in sets of 6, and once you get your hands on one, you'll understand why: tortas are made up of 24% olive oil by weight, so they tend to leave an oil slick on everything they touch, including your fingers. I suspect they are actually deep fried in olive oil. Yum.

Since tortas cost a whopping $6 per package and are super-rich, they are a rare treat. So I thought I might sort it out at home, and for the most part, I have. This recipe yields the same piquant-sweet-beguiling Spanish torta flavor, but they aren't nearly as greasy.

My favorite kind of of torta includes flour, orange, sesame, sugar, and anise seed, as reflected here. I include a bit of orange blossom water, to guild the lily, but honestly you could make these with garlic and coarse black pepper if that's what floats your boat. Just remember, this is all about the flavor of olive oil, so here's your chance to bust out the good stuff!

Olive Oil Crackers with Orange, Anise, and Sugar

Makes about 2 dozen 5-inch crackers

7 tablespoons freshly squeezed orange juice

Zest of 1 orange

1/4 cup, plus 3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil, preferably Spanish

1/2 teaspoon orange blossom water

2 cups (9 ounces) unbleached all purpose flour, plus more for dusting

1 1/2 teaspoons anise seeds

3/4 teaspoon baking powder

1/4 teaspoon salt

10 tablespoons sugar, divided

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F. Line 2 baking sheets with parchment or silpat mats. In a 2-cup glass measuring cup, whisk together the orange juice, zest, oil (these crackers are all about the oil, bust out the good stuff), and orange blossom water.

In a mixing bowl, whisk together the flour, anise seeds, baking powder, salt, and 4 tablespoons of the sugar. Add the wet mixture to the dry mixture and knead until you have a smooth dough, 5 minutes. Cover and set aside for 30 minutes.

Divide the dough into walnut shell-size balls and cover with plastic. Dust a work surface with flour and roll 2 of the balls out into 5-inch rounds (you may need to start on one, let it rest for a few seconds, and move on to the 2nd ball. As the dough relaxes, it will be easier to roll without it springing back.) If the dough is sticky, dust it with flour and pick up the dough as you're rolling to make sure it's not sticking.

Transfer the rounds to a silpat-lined baking sheet and repeat with remaining dough balls. Sprinkle the dough rounds with sugar, press lightly to adhere sugar to crackers. Bake, rotating baking sheets once, until the dough is crisped and brown, about 15 minutes. Cool the crackers on racks and store in an airtight container once cool.

One for Mrs. Robsinson- Guinness Chocolate Cupcakes with Bailey's Frosting

2011-03-13T14:06:00.000-07:00

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Ahoy Foodies!
Happy St. Patrick's Day (and week) to you all. As I've mentioned here before, this time of year has always been a big deal for me and my family. Being of Irish decent on my father's side, there is a certain unspoken pressure to be just a little MORE Irish during the week of St. Patrick's Day. Extra pints of stout and so forth, you know, to reconnect with my roots.

Of course I'll be making my famous-in-Sheboygan Guinness Irish Stew on Thursday. If you don't have the gumption to make it yourself from my recipe, you can always go to Manning's Irish Pub in Sheboygan, Wisconsin and get yourself a bowl, if you're in the neighborhood.

But there are other ways to enjoy Guinness, and some are less obvious than lifting a pint glass. Rich, malty Guinness Irish Stout, it turns out, is really excellent in desserts, especially spiced cake recipes. Take this easy gingerbread-inspired cupcake recipe I came up with. I name it for Paul Simon's character, Mrs. Robinson, because he admonishes her to "keep it in your pantry with your cupcakes..." He's likely talking about pills in the song, but I'm sure Mrs. R had some hooch in the pantry, too. These boozy little cakes would be right up her alley-- not only do they have Guinness Irish Stout in them, there's also a wee bit of Bailey's Irish Cream in the cream cheese frosting too, for good measure.

Hope you enjoy them and have a happy St. Patrick's Day! Oh, and word to the wise:
"Steer clear of the green beer or you'll feel queer." I recommend that you stick to the thick, creamy black stuff. Much better for your constitution.

Guinness and Chocolate Cupcakes with Bailey's Frosting

Makes 12 cupcakes

Cupcakes:

1/2 cup Guinness Irish stout

6 tablespoons molasses

1/4 teaspoon baking soda

1 cup all purpose flour

1/4 cup unsweetened Guittard cocoa powder

3/4 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, room temperature

2 teaspoons orange zest

1/2 cup brown sugar, packed

1/4 cup sugar

1 large egg

1 large egg yolk

Frosting:

4 ounces cream cheese

4 tablespoons unsalted butter, room temperature

2 cups powdered sugar

2 tablespoons Bailey's Irish Cream Liqueur

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line 12 cupcake wells with paper liners. In a medium saucepan, combine the stout and the molasses and bring to a boil over medium high heat (watch closely so the mixture does not boil over). Remove from heat and stir in the baking soda; the mixture will foam up. Pour into a large glass measuring cup and place in refrigerator to cool for 20 minutes.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, cocoa powder, baking powder, cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt. In a large bowl, beat the butter, orange zest, brown sugar, and sugar until fluffy, 2 minutes. Scrape down sides of bowl, add the egg and egg yolk, and beat until combined.

Add the flour mixture to the butter mixture in 3 additions, alternating with 2 additions of the beer-molasses mixture. Stir between the additions with a rubber spatula. Fill the prepared cupcake wells with the batter using a small ice cream scoop, only filing the wells are 2/3 full. Bake cupcakes until a toothpick inserted in the center of a cupcake comes out clean, about 24 minutes. Transfer to a cooling rack.

When the cupcakes are cool, make the frosting. In a medium bowl, combine the cream cheese and butter and beat until fluffy, 2 minutes. Sift half the powdered sugar over the frosting and beat to combine. Repeat with remaining powdered sugar. Add the Bailey's and beat to combine. Spread the frosting on the cooled cupcakes. Drink a shot of Bailey's to your health and then eat the cupcakes.

A Vegetable With Secrets

2011-03-04T20:20:00.000-08:00

Ahoy Foodies!

One of my favorite words, nay, one of my favorite vegetables and words is endive. It's pronounced "en-dive" in the United States, but across the pond they have the class and sense to say "ahn-deev." So much more aristocratic and fun to say, isn't it? Ahn-deev.

Befitting the name, Belgian endive is a precious vegetable, if only because a whole lot of effort is expended to produce these compact heads of satiny salad. As they grow, endive hearts are kept tender and mild by growing them in warm growing medium or nutrient rich water. They are hidden away from light to keep the leaves tender and mild, and when they are ready for market, they're gingerly wrapped in swaddling clothes (waxed paper, actually) to keep the delicate pearly leaves from bruising.

In one of my favorite scenes in the French film Amelie, Lucien, the grocer's assistant, is shown holding up an endive to his ear, presumably to hear if it is fresh or not, or perhaps to learn a secret. What would an endive tell you, if only you would listen?

It might tell you that you can just slice it and it will make a nice, slightly bitter salad for you. It would tell you that it especially appreciates being paired with rich cheeses like Irish Cashel blue and oily nuts like hazelnuts. It might also point out that it's leaves have a nice boat-like shape, all the better to use as an appetizer "cup" to hold things like cheese, pears, and nuts; see my recipe for Endive Stuffed With Spanish Goodies in my second book, The Adaptable Feast.

But endive would also probably whisper that it wants to be recognized as so much more than a salad green. Once cooked, it would point out, it's crisp texture would yield, it's flavor would soften, and it would become a lovely part of any manner of warm entree dishes as well. If only you would give it a chance.

I myself met a nice forthcoming endive recently, cocked my head and listened. It led me to make this soothing mid-winter gratin: endive + Dungeness crab meat + creamy white sauce+ chives+ Comté cheese. I baked it for awhile, then gave it a trip under the broiler. It was rich, wonderful, and somewhat surprising. Kristine Kidd listens to endive too apparently; she recently added it a risotto and posted the recipe on her blog, and it sounds wonderful. If there's one woman whose recipes you can trust, it's the former editor of Bon Appetit, so go and take a look.

Served this wintry mix with warm breadsticks, homemade crackers or baguette. Oh, and endive also told me that it loves a good Sancerre from time to time. If you're clueless about how to choose a good one (I was), take a look at this excellent article in MIX Magazine by Katherine Cole.

Without further ado, go forth and listen.

Crab and Endive Gratin with Comté

Serves 2 as a main course, 4 as a hot appetizer

1 cup milk

1 bay leaf

2 thyme sprigs

1 small garlic clove, peeled and lightly smashed

3 tablespoons butter, divided

2 tablespoons flour

1 egg yolk

1 1/2 tablespoons vermouth (I love Vya)

Salt and ground white pepper
2 tablespoons snipped chives

8 ounces crab meat

1 endive, trimmed and cut crosswise into 1/2-inch slices

1/2 cup grated Comté or Gruyere cheese

Preheat oven to 400°F. Smear 1 tablespoon of butter in 4 appetizer-size gratin dishes and place them on a rimmed baking sheet.

In a small microwave-safe cup, combine the milk, bay leaf, thyme, and garlic. Microwave until the milk is hot, about 2 minutes. Set aside and allow the milk to steep for 10 minutes, or as long as half an hour. Discard bay leaf, thyme, and garlic.

Melt the remaining 2 tablespoons of butter in a small saucepan over medium-low heat. Whisk in the flour and cook, stirring frequently, for 1 minute. Add the warm milk, bring to a simmer, and cook until thickened and bubbly, 2 minutes. Allow the sauce to cool for 10 minutes at room temperature. Whisk in the egg yolk, and vermouth. Season with salt, and white pepper to taste. Fold in the crab meat and chives.

Place the endive slices on the bottom of the gratin dishes. Spoon the crab mixture over the endive and top everything with the cheese. Bake until golden brown and bubbly around the edges, 20 minutes. Switch on the broiler and broil until the tops are crusty and brown in places, 1 minute. Serve warm with warm, crispy bread sticks or baguette.

All text and photos are copyright 2010 by Ivy Manning and Gregor Torrence.

Love American Style- Girl Scout-esque Chocolate Mint Cookies

2011-02-13T18:20:00.000-08:00

Ahoy Foodies!

Giving presents to the love of your life can be a tricky thing, especially when said loved one has absolutely everything and you're running out ideas. After already Christmas-gifting and birthday-gifting Mr. Tofu everything he likes (good bourbon, magnetic ball bearing "Bucky Balls" for 3-D sculpting, and glow in the dark guitar picks), it's tough to know what to do for St. Valentine's Day. After much thinking I came out with one more thing : the combination of chocolate and mint.

We had a chocolate-mint wedding cake, chocolate mint chip ice cream is his unvarying order when we go out for ice cream, and then there's Girl Scout Thin Mints, of course. Nary a box makes it into our house and stays the night; we both will polish off one of those tiny sleeves of waxy chocolate wafers in seconds flat, even though they're really not all that good.

In honor of V-Day, I made homemade chocolate graham crackers and doused them in minty melted dark chocolate for Mr. Tofu. The minty bit comes from peppermint extract, I like The Spice House's peppermint extract for it's clean, green flavor. Because I'm a perfectionist, I do a quick microwave temper for the chocolate, so once dry it will have a nice snap and shiny surface, instructions are in the recipe.

They verdict? Mr. Tofu says these are SO much better than those lousy little overpriced cookies those girls sell.

Maybe you've got a chocolate-mint-ophile in your house too, or maybe you're keen on wooing a chocolate-mint fan and need to impress, or maybe you deserve a big plate of these for yourself, romance be damned. Whatever the case, please do enjoy these delicate, refreshing, Girl Scout Cookie-esque chocolaty mint cookies with my warmest wishes for your holiday!

Girl Scout-esque Chocolate Mint Cookies

3/4 cup (3 1/4 oz) graham flour, or white whole wheat flour
1/2 cup (2 oz) all purpose flour, plus more for rolling
1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 cup (1 oz) cocoa powder
1/2 cup (1 3/8 oz) powdered sugar
1/2 cup cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch dice
2 tablespoons packed brown sugar
2 1/2 tablespoons milk
6 ounces finely chopped dark chocolate
1 teaspoon Spice House peppermint extract

Preheat oven to 325 degrees F. In a food processor, combine the flours, salt, and baking powder. Sift the cocoa and powdered sugar into the work bowl. Pulse a few times to combine. Add the butter and pulse in 1 second bursts until the butter is in pieces just smaller than a pea, 15 pulses.

Mix the brown sugar and milk together and stir to dissolve sugar. Add to the food processor and pulse 10 times. Turn mixture out onto a lightly floured board and knead the dough until the dough is smooth and slightly sticky, 10 strokes. Divide the dough into 2 balls.

Roll one of the balls out on a well floured surface until it is 1/8-inch thick, picking up the dough after every quarter turn to make sure the dough does not stick and adding additional flour if necessary. Using a 2-inch heart shaped cookie cutter, cut the dough out and place the hearts on a parchment lined baking sheet. Prick each heart a few times with a fork. Bake until the cookies are crisp and smell chocolaty, 12-15 minutes. Repeat process with remaining dough ball and any scraps. (Scraps can be rolled out 2 times without the dough becoming tough.) Cool the crackers on a wire rack.

Place a cooling rack over a piece of parchment paper. In a medium microwave-safe bowl, melt 2/3 of the chocolate in 15 second intervals, stirring between each interval. When the chocolate has melted and is smooth, stir in the remaining 1/3 of the chocolate and stir until smooth. Add the mint extract and stir until thoroughly combined. Spread each cookie on one side with the melted chocolate and return it to the prepared cooling rack. Repeat, licking fingers frequently. Let the cookies stand until the chocolate has hardened, 30 minutes. Store in an airtight container for up to 1 week.

Tastes Like Team Spirit

2011-02-06T13:28:00.000-08:00

Ahoy Foodies!

If the lead picture here wasn't indication enough, I am here to tell you that I am a Green Bay Packer fan. I was born and raised just 1 1/2 hours from Lambeau Field. I grew up in the icy cold tundra and being a fan of the Pack pretty much goes with the territory. It wasn't until I moved away that I realized what team spirit really was...well maybe a little homesickness contributed to my avid Packer backing. At any rate, every Sunday during football season I get up early and go stand in line to get a seat in a Packer bar here in Portland. I never miss a game.

A few years ago, I went back to Wisconsin to visit family and had the very lucky experience of going to a Packer game at Lambeau Field with my brother and my best friend. Even though the little thermometer/zipper on my borrowed coat read 19 degrees, we did the tailgate thing. The air was electric walking through aisle upon aisle of cars all set up full-on living rooms made out of patio furniture, grills with "Johnsonville hot tubs" (beer and onions on the grill to soak the bratwurst in), droves of card tables set up with all manner chips and dairy based dips. This might sound sappy, but when my brother handed me my ticket to the game and it read " THIS IS WHERE YOU BELONG," I got a little choked up. It REALLY WAS where I belonged. Still gets me choked up to this day...

Anyhoo, I'm sure you've already got your Superbowl menu sorted out, but I wanted to share my recipe for Da Green And Gold dip, in case you have room for one more item. It's a simple creme fraiche, sour cream, and roasted yellow bell and Anaheim pepper affair, and it's great on bagels, crackers, chips, or your finger.

Enjoy the game. GO PACK GO!

Da Green and Gold Dip

2 Anaheim chilies
1 large yellow bell pepper
1/2 cup creme fraiche
1/2 cup sour cream
1/3 cup crumbled Cotija Mexican cheese
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
2 pinches cayenne
3 pinches salt
2 thinly sliced green onion tops

Adjust the oven rack so that it is 6 inches below the broiler. Place the chilies and bell pepper on a small baking sheet and place under the broiler. Broil until the peppers' skins have blackened, turn with tongs occasionally. Remove the peppers from the oven, place in a large bowl, cover with a plate and let stand 30 minutes. Scrape off the skins and discard. Discard stems and seeds and finely chop the peppers.

In a medium serving bowl, combine the creme fraiche, sour cream, Cotija, all of the Anaheim peppers and 3/4 of the yellow bell peppers. Stir in the cumin, cayenne, and salt. Smooth top. Arrange the green onion tops and remaining yellow peppers into a "G" on top of the dip and serve.

Homemade Senbei (Japanese Rice Crackers)

2011-01-30T18:18:00.000-08:00

Ahoy Foodies!

I once worked for a chef who, when faced with a dish that would not sell, would add the word crunchy or crispy to the menu description. "Prawns with Persian Saffron Rice"? Nada. But call the dish "Crispy Prawns with Persian Saffron rice," and he had a best seller.

I loved the crisping and crunching of his menu, one, because it's terribly clever, and two, I am an avid snack-tooth (as opposed to sweet-tooth). Crunch adds another dimension eating--sure, you taste sweet, salty, savory, la-la-la everything is just okay, and then CRUNCH, and the meal is way more interesting. Crunchy things satisfy our need to chew, and grind, and have some sound above all our masticating and talking. I probably order more items that say "crunchy" than not. I think most of us do.

When it comes to crunchy snacks, some go for greasy thick-cut "kettle" potato chips glistening with oil and salt crystals. Others dig dessicated pretzels. Others virtuously nibble nuts. I prefer something a bit more exotic...and expensive: Japanese rice crackers, also called senbei.

Sold in fancy little bags and boxes, individually wrapped, and lined up in rows like little snack soldiers, senbei vary in size and come seasoned with all sorts of salty goodness, from bits of nori seaweed to sesame seeds, soy nuts, and even dried shrimp. They're light, lovely, and beyond any other crunchy snack out there. Sadly, they cost from $4-$7 a package. The way I tear through them, other arrangements had to be made.

After much experimentation, I've sorted out a nice, easy recipe that makes highly addictive rice crackers for much, much less than I was paying for those pretty little boxes. Here's a little step by step photo essay (many thanks to Mr. Tofu) for making your own senbei; you're welcome to share my addiction. The recipe is at the end of the page.


Process Sweet Rice Flour+ Cooked Sushi Rice+ Oil+ Water


Add Furikake (Japanese rice seasoning)

Press between 2 sheets plastic...

Until very thin indeed


Bake until crisp, and then brush with honey-soy glaze

Dry in oven 3 minutes with oven off, watching very carefully


Stack o Crack-ers.

Homemade Senbei- Japanese Rice Crackers

Makes 30 crackers

3/4 cup sweet rice flour (such as Bob's Red Mill Sweet Rice Flour)

1/3 cup cooked white rice

1/4 teaspoon sea salt

2 tablespoons canola oil

4 tablespoons water

5 teaspoons furikake- Japanese seaweed rice seasoning condiment

1 tablespoon aged soy sauce

1 tablespoon tupelo honey

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. In a food processor, combine the rice flour, white rice, salt, and oil. Pulse until finely ground. With the machine running, slowly add the water. Transfer to a bowl, add the furikake, and knead to combine.

Press hazelnut-sized balls of the dough between 2 ziplock bags into 2 1/2-inch disks (I use a flat-bottom brulee dish); the dough will be very thin. Bake on rimmed baking sheets for 5 minutes. Flip the crackers with a spatula and continue to cook until they are dry and starting to brown, 4 to 5 more minutes. Remove from oven. Turn off oven..

Combine the soy sauce and honey in a small bowl. Microwave for 25 seconds. Brush the tops of each cracker with the soy mixture. Place crackers in turned off oven and allow them to dry for 3 minutes. Allow crackers to cool for 15 minutes; they will crisp up considerably. Store in airtight container.

Mushroom Gravy for Everyone

2010-11-19T10:58:00.000-08:00

Ahoy Foodies!

Well, it's upon us. The big day. The Feast. I've been running around like mad testing recipes for a story I'm doing on butterflying high-ticket roasts, interviewing Dorie Greenspan for an article, moving back into our brand new kitchen, throwing impromptu dinner parties to show off said kitchen (and get rid of said high-ticket roasts), and then suddenly out of the blue, someone from OPB calls and asks if I'd like to be on Think Outloud to talk about Thanksgiving in mixed diet households.

Thanksgiving?? I totally spaced that it was coming up next week. Eek! The day is a bit tricky in our house for several reasons. For one, as all you culinarians out there know, expectations for your cooking run very high among your family and friends. You can feel the pressure, can't you? Lumpy gravy? Coming from a professional's kitchen? Never! And everything simply must come out of the kitchen steaming hot, seasoned correctly, and Martha Stewart-perfect. Otherwise they'll all be mumbling during the post-feast car ride home about how you might be loosing it...you know, burnt out, out of ideas, not really all that afterall, a fake.

And then there's the dietary restrictions of all the orphans I've invited to our table. One friend isn't doing dairy or wheat anymore. And a vegan friend might drop by, "just for a bite." And then there's Mr. Tofu, of course. He won't be partaking in the turkey, the meaty stuffing (I just make a big batch of veggie stuffing, set some aside for him and then put turkey stock and sausage in the larger portion for the rest of us), and he'd rather suck on wet leaves than eat my turkey gravy.

Gravy is tough, because just like the rug in the Big Lebowski, "it really ties the whole room together". Or meal, in this case. So for years, I've been perfecting this very special mushroom gravy for Mr. Tofu, and my other veggie friends. It's vegetarian (vegan if you use oil), wheat free, and positively bursting with big, deep, bold flavors. Most of the meat eaters at my table love it, too. Who wouldn't love a rich sauce with velvety mushrooms, good Oregon Pinot Noir, and loads of umami? So here it is, the gravy that might just lead to peace at your dinner table. Make it a few days in advance, reheat it at the last minute, and watch as everyone at the table begs for a spoonful.

Wild Mushroom-Pinot Noir Gravy

Serves 6

1/2 ounce dried porcini mushrooms, reconstituted in 1/2 cup boiling water for 30 minutes

2 tablespoons butter or mild olive oil

3 tablespoons minced shallots

8 ounces (4 cups) wild (or shiitake with stems removed) mushrooms, trimmed and sliced

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon chopped fresh thyme

1/2 cup Pinot Noir wine

1 tablespoon tomato paste

1 cup homemade roasted mushroom stock, or store-bought

1 1/2 teaspoons cornstarch

1 tablespoon water

Good quality soy sauce

Freshly ground black pepper

Remove the porcini mushrooms from their soaking liquid, finely chop, and set aside. Reserve the soaking liquid.

Melt the 2 tablespoons of butter in a medium saucepan over medium-high heat. Add the shallots and sauté until they just begin to brown, 2 minutes. Add the sliced wild mushrooms, sprinkle with the 1/2 teaspoon of salt and thyme, and sauté, stirring only once, until the mushrooms are browned and have given off their liquid, about 4 minutes.

Reduce the heat to medium, add the wine, and simmer, scraping any browned bits on the bottom of the pan until the wine has almost evaporated, 1 minute. Add the chopped porcini mushrooms, 1/2 cup of their soaking liquid (sans grit), tomato paste, and stock and bring to a simmer and cook gently for 10 minutes. Combine the cornstarch and the water in a small bowl, stir into the gravy, and simmer until bubbly, 1 minute. Season with soy sauce and pepper, reduce heat to low. Cover, and keep warm until ready to use. The gravy can be made up to 3 days in advance. Reheat gently over low heat, adding additional mushroom stock, if necessary.

Labor, Love and Not Cooking

2010-10-07T18:37:00.001-07:00

Ahoy Foodies!

Labor. I have heard mothers describe it in several ways. One friend told me giving birth was like passing a basketball. Another gal told me it was like being turned inside out... through your nostrils. And then there's my sister, who labored for 72 hours with her second child. When I asked how she felt afterward, she whispered some sage advice in my ear: "Don't have sex. Ever. I mean it, it's not worth it."

Why all the thoughts of labor? Recently I shared with another mom friend that I was going through a long, fits-and-starts kitchen remodel. She laughed and said, "Kitchen remodels are just like childbirth. It totally sucks while its happening, but you forget all that when you get rewarded with a new kid, or kitchen."

I hope she is correct. It's been since the first of September since I have had a kitchen, and I am really out of sorts. I don't know if you've ever been through this, but I'm guessing you're foodies and therefore you find solace in the kitchen, so you might understand why I feel so off balance. Cooking calms my busy mind and soothes my hyper soul. Cooking is how I show love, appreciation, and creativity. And apparently, it's also how I keep from becoming a stark raving bitchy messsss.

Despite all this, I had a potluck to go to Thursday night at Ivy Entrekin's house, and I had to bring something, so I made an "un-cooked" dish. Now, let's get one thing straight: I'm not a raw diet gal. I like my food warm, mostly. But in this particular instance, I turned to a recipe from my raw chef friend, author and TV host Ani Phyo. Everything she has ever made me has been amazing, including this surprising recipe for raw butternut squash "rice." Yes, you CAN eat butternut squash raw..and you'll want to with this recipe.

I tinkered with Ani's recipe a bit, toasting the walnuts in my toaster oven instead of soaking them, and fudging with hot curry powder instead of using whole spices (I have no idea where my spices are right now). What I got was a dish so fresh and unexpected, no one at the potluck noticed the rawness of it. One gent even remarked how much he loved the quinoa, while shoveling a third helping of the butternut rice into his mouth. When I told him it was raw squash, he just kept shoveling. It's just a miracle of a thing, this toasty spiced, craisin-laced, crunchy, vibrant "rice" stuff. It's got healthy thanksgiving salad written all over it.

Was it cooking? Not exactly, but it did take some of the sting out of my kitchen remodel labor pains, and for now, that is love.

Curried Butternut Squash "Rice" with Cranberries and Walnuts
-adapted from recipe by Ani Phyo

1 medium butternut squash (about 3 pounds), peeled, seeded and cut into 2-inch chunks
3 medium shallots, peeled and cut into equal size chunks
1 cup toasted walnuts
1/2 cup cilantro leaves, chopped finely
1 cup dried sweetened cranberries
3 tablespoons good quality curry powder, such as Penzey's Maharajah blend
2-3 teaspoons sea salt

In 3 batches, whiz the squash chunks in a food processor until they are finely chopped, the mixture will have a texture similar to rice. Place squash "rice" in a large serving bowl. Add the shallots to the food processor and pulse until finely chopped, stir into the squash. Pulse the walnuts until finely chopped and add to bowl with squash and shallots.

Stir in the cilantro, dried cranberries, curry powder, and sea salt. Stir to combine. Taste and add more curry powder and salt, keeping in mind that the flavors will bloom after a few hours, so don't over do it. Allow dish to sit for at least 2 hours, serve at room temperature.

Ivy's Chocolate Beet Cake with Cream Cheese Frosting

2010-09-29T17:30:00.001-07:00

Ahoy Foodies!

It's been awhile, I know. Life happens, and I've been busy, and I've wrestled with whether to keep the blog thing going if I couldn't post something every other week, and decided to stop. But I am adding a caveat to that decision: if I have a really great recipe, or something I really want to put out there in the e-universe to share with you, I'm going to. Like once or month or so. Deal?

So what is the really great thing I want to share right now? I had a really inspiring conversation about beets today with Betsy Karetnick on Everday Food on Martha Stewart radio. Besty is one of the warmest, funniest people on the planet, I feel lucky to get to chat with her now and then.
I coolly mentioned to Betsy that I make a dynamite chocolate cake recipe that happens to have beets it. It follows the same logic as carrot or zucchini cakes, but with rich, sweet grated beets (and some cocoa powder) instead. Callers clamored for the recipe. So, here it is!

And what you get for your fearless grating and subsequent pink fingers, should you try this recipe? A really moist cake, the kind of cake where you can press the tines of your fork into the crumbs and they adhere easily. (All the better to get every last speck into your mouth, my dear.) And the flavor? Lots of chocolate, walnuts, and a deep sweetness that you'd never pin on beets. Test it on your favorite picky 4 year-old and see if I'm joking.

I offer up my standard gooey cream cheese frosting here too, in case you need to fancy up the cake for a special occasion. If you're not in the mood, the cake doesn't really suffer when served unfrosted. Gild the lily, or don't. That's up to you.

Ivy's Chocolate Beet Cake with Cream Cheese Frosting
Makes one 9x13-inch sheet cake or 2 8-inch rounds, for layering

Cake:
1 1/2 cups, plus 1 tablespoon all purpose flour, divided
1/2 cup cocoa powder
1 1 /2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon baking powder
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cups unsalted butter, plus 1 tablespoon for pan, room temperature
2 cups sugar
4 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
3 medium beets, peeled and grated (3 cups)
1 cup chopped walnuts

Frosting:
5 ounces cream cheese, room temperature (I use Sierra Nevada Cheese Company's Gina Marie Cream Cheese, much better flavor than Philly)
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, room temperature
1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
5 ounces (about 1 1/2 cups) powdered sugar

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Rub bottom and sides of a 9 x 13" pan with 1 tablespoon butter. Add 1 tablespoon flour and tap to coat bottom and sides. Set aside.

In a medium bowl, sift the remaining flour, cocoa powder, cinnamon, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. In a large mixing bowl, beat the remaining butter and sugar until fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time, beating after each addition. Stir in the vanilla. Add the dry ingredients to the butter mixture and stir until just combined.

Blot the grated beets with a few paper towels to absorb some of the excess moisture. Stir the beets and walnuts into the cake batter and pour into the prepared pan. Bake until a skewer inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean, 45 to 50 minutes for a sheet cake, a bit less for 2 round cake pans. Allow the cake(s) to cool on a rack in the pan(s).

In a medium bowl, beat the cream cheese, butter, and vanilla until fluffy. Sift the powdered sugar over the cream cheese mixture and beat to combine. Spread the cake(s) with the frosting and serve.

Guinness Irish Stew For St. Patrick's Day

2010-03-17T08:35:00.000-07:00

Ahoy Foodies!

Today is a big day for Irish Americans, including me. Which is kind of funny since we're celebrating a man of Roman descent who came to Ireland as a slave. Our holiday celebrating one Magonus Saccauts Patricius, son of an official working for the Romans in Britain in the 5th century, has become about all things Irish--none of which are green beer, corned beef, or silly shamrock festooned hats. Funny that.

Ol' St. Pat was brought to Ireland as a slave (before he was a saint, of course) by a group of marauding pirate types in 416 AD . Contrary to popular belief, he didn't exactly bring Christianity to Ireland, but he did make it much more popular. As for driving the snakes out of Ireland? Well, that's probably myth. But, he did herd sheep, so he would probably appreciate this lamb stew recipe, which I'm reprinting from a previous post, cuz heh, the recipe is still great, and very timely, too.

So tonight, there's no need to go out to the overcrowded pubs with all the other "Irish for a day" types and drink watery green beer. Stay home, crack open a Murphy's or Guinness, and dig into this little bite of Irish soul food instead.

Manning's Irish Pub Guinness Irish Stew
Serves 6

3 pounds boneless lamb shoulder or leg, cut into 1-inch pieces
Salt and freshly ground pepper
1 cup flour
4 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 large onion, chopped
3 medium carrots, peeled
2 cups Guinness stout
1 bay leaf
2 tablespoons minced herbs (thyme, rosemary, marjoram)
1 tablespoon tomato paste
3 cups beef stock
2 medium Yukon gold potatoes, peeled and quartered
3 parsnips, peeled and cut into 2-inch lengths
Salt and freshly ground pepper
1 to 3 tablespoons brown sugar

Heat half of the oil in a large sauté pan over medium high heat. Working in batches, season a big handful of meat with salt and pepper and dredge it in the flour. Shake off the excess flour and brown meat in sauté pan until burnished on 2 sides. Transfer browned meat to a large Dutch oven or pressure cooker* with tongs and continue browning remaining meat, adding oil if necessary, and adjusting heat if flour begins to burn.

Chop 1 carrot finely, cut the others into 2-inch long sticks. Add more oil to pan, if necessary, and add the onions and chopped carrot. Saute until the onion begins to brown. Add 1/2 cup of the Guinness and bring to a boil, scraping up browned bits. Put mixture in pot with lamb. Add the remaining Guinness, bay leaf, herbs, tomato paste, and enough stock to the pot to cover the meat. Bring to a simmer over medium low and cover. Cook until the meat is nearly tender, 40 minutes.

Add the potatoes, remaining carrots, and parsnips and continue to simmer, covered, until the potatoes are tender, 30 minutes more. *If using a pressure cooker, make the stew up to the point where you add the stock, bring up to highest pressure (2nd ring on most models) and maintain pressure for 40 minutes. Release pressure, remove lid and skim any fat off top. Add the potatoes, remaining carrots and parsnips and simmer for an additional 30 minutes.

Season the stew with salt and pepper and brown sugar, if needed.

Sushi and Sake for Hounds!

2010-03-11T16:40:00.000-08:00

Ahoy Foodies!

It's not every day you get to boost your good karma and drink premium sake while petting retired racing greyhounds and nibbling on appetizers made by yours truly. So here is your big chance.

All proceeds from the upcoming Greyt Culinary Delights benefit at Furever Pets, including all my book sales and 10% of store sales that evening go to GPA Northwest, a local organization that rescues and finds good homes for great hounds like my dear Mini (pictured above).

Good karma, good sushi, premium SakeOne beverages, and greyhound love. Really, what better way is there to spend a Friday evening?

Register by clicking here or calling the number below:

Next week we'll get back to the recipes with a hum dinger: Sticky Finger Orange Tassies. Thank you for your attention!

Bucatini all'Amatriciana, Two Ways

2010-03-08T14:00:00.000-08:00

Ahoy Foodies!

People are always asking me if I cook fancy meals for Mr. Tofu and myself every night. I guess folks assume that just because I'm a food writer/recipe developer, I breeze into the kitchen nightly and whip up insanely complicated meals all the time.

Um, no. There are often nights when I make the 5-pace commute from my office to our outdated kitchen and can barely get up the gumption to use a can opener. Which is fine, except Mr. Tofu's bar is set pretty high (as is mine) when it comes to food, so Spaghetti-O's aren't ever going to cut it.

Enter Bucatini all'Amatriciana. It's one of my favorite dishes when I want something quick, interesting, and kind of spicy. From the town of Amatrice in Lazio, this quick little number highlights what Southern Italians do best—pecorino, vine ripened tomatoes, red chile flakes, bucatini (thick, hollow spaghetti), and guanciale.

Wait, what's that last ingredient? Guanciale (look away now dear vegetarian readers) is unsmoked bacon made from the cheeks of hogs. (Guancia is cheek in Italian.) It's got a yummy, peppery bite, and the texture is much meatier than bacon. You can find it at gourmet shops, or substitute pancetta.

But Mr. Tofu would rather eat sand than partake in guanciale. So, I add Peppadew peppers to his pasta. Peppadews, in case you aren't familiar, are cherry-tomato sized seedless pickled peppers that have a nice balance of sweet and spicy flavor, and a juicy texture you can really sink your teeth into. I get them in bulk from the olive bar at my local market.

With such a simple dish (just 5 ingredients), it's important to buy the very best you can. I use super-ripe tasting San Marzano tomatoes; you'll know them by the "D.O.P" on the label (which assures they're coming from a controlled growing area of southern Italy). I get imported Pecorino Sole di Sardegna, a mildly salty sheep's milk cheese that doesn't overwhelm like some pecorino romanos do, and, most importantly-- the best pasta I can find. The rest is just a flick of the wrist. Buon Appetito!

Bucatini all'Amatriciana

Serves 4

3 tablespoons olive oil

4 ounces diced guanciale

1 1/2 cups finely chopped onions

1 large garlic clove, minced

2 ounces (about 4 to 5) Peppadew peppers, roughly chopped

One 28-ounce can San Marzano Tomatoes, squished, with juice

1 tablespoon dried oregano

1 pinches red pepper flakes

Salt and Pepper

1 pound bucatini or fusilli

6 tablespoons grated Pecorino Sole di Sardegna cheese

2 tablespoons minced Italian Parsley

In a large sauté pan with lid, heat 1 tablespoon of the oil over medium heat. When the oil is hot, add the guanciale and sauté until browned, about 10 minutes. Drain off all but 2 tablespoons of the rendered fat. Add 1 1/3 cup of the diced onion. Sauté until the onions are translucent, 8 minutes.

Meanwhile, in a small sauté pan, heat the remaining tablespoon of oil over medium heat. Add the remaining onions and sauté until translucent, 8 minutes. Add 1/4 of the garlic and half of the Peppadew peppers to the pan, sauté 45 seconds. Add 1/4 of the tomatoes and juice, 1 teaspoon of the oregano, and a small flick of red pepper flakes. Bring to a gentle simmer and cover.

Add the remaining tomatoes, oregano, Peppadew, and a good pinch of pepper flakes to the pan with the guanciale, bring to a simmer, and cover. Simmer the sauces for 20 minutes (adding water or stock if they get too dry) . Season with salt and pepper. Meanwhile, bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add the pasta and cook until al dente, times vary on thickness of pasta.

Drain the pasta. Add 1/4 of it to the pan with the vegetarian sauce. Add 1 1/2 tablespoons of cheese and a pinch of the parsley, toss with tongs. Toss the remaining pasta, cheese, and parsley with the guanciale sauce. Serve right now.

Twice Baked Irish Potatoes with Kale and Stout Onions-Video

2010-02-26T16:22:00.000-08:00

Ahoy Foodies!

St.Patrick's Day is creeping up fast (March 17th), and if you're even a little Irish you're likely beginning to hatch plans to make homemade corned beef and cabbage, or Irish stew for the big day. But what on earth are you going to serve your vegetarian and vegan friends? You can give them a slab of soda bread and an extra pint'o'stout, but that's not really fair, now is it?

May I suggest twice baked potatoes? It doesn't sound terribly Irish (well, except for the potatoes part), but add sauteed kale to the potatoes, mash them, and you've got colcannon, a rustic Irish dish that's been served for as long as any Irishwoman can remember. Add some caramelized onions deglazed with Murhpy's Irish Stout to the colcannon mixture, stuff it back into the potato jackets, cover it with Irish cheddar, bake it again, and you've got a very Irish vegetarian main course that will likely capture the interest of the stew and beef eaters, too.

Thanks to a collaboration with the folks at Cooking Up A Story, I am presenting my recipe for this dish in VIDEO FORM! I'm still finding my feet on camera, so be kind. Stay tuned, there will be more cooking videos with seasonal vegetables to come, thanks to Rebecca and the talented team at Cooking Up A Story!

Happy St. Pat's (early)!

Twice-Baked Irish Potatoes with Stout Onions and Kale
(from The Farm to Table Cookbook, by Ivy Manning)

4 servings

“What’s your favorite potato story?” Gene Theil, the spunky potato farmer nicknamed “ Gene the Potato Machine," asked me one crisp November morning as I chose from his table of russets. I drew a blank. “Everyone has a potato story,” he assured me. It finally dawned on me: colcannon. My grandmother used to make the satisfying mash of kale or cabbage and potatoes for me when I was a kid. She said its origins came from necessity when times were tough in Ireland. Women would add kale, cabbage, or even seaweed to their mashed potatoes to stretch the meager harvest;-- the greener the colcannon, the tougher the times. Gene was happy to hear that he was right again, we all have a potato story.

My love of simple but comforting colcannon inspired this satisfying variation of double- stuffed potatoes; it's a sort of Irish soul food, if you will.

4 large russet potatoes, scrubbed (8 to 10 ounces each)

1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon olive oil, divided

1 1/2 cups thinly sliced onions (about 1 large)

1 cup Irish-style stout

1 bunch lacinato kale or Russian kale(about 3 ounces)

1 cup buttermilk

2 tablespoons butter, at room temperature

1/2 teaspoon mustard powder

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 cup grated cheddar cheese

1. Preheat the oven to 400 F. Rub the potatoes with 1 teaspoon of the oil and place directly on the oven rack. Bake until they squish easily when gently squeezed, 45 minutes to 1 hour.

2. Heat the remaining 1 tablespoon of oil in a large sauté pan over medium heat. Add the onions and cook, stirring frequently until they begin to brown, about 15 minutes. Add a splash of the stout and scrape up any browned bits. Continue to cook, occasionally deglazing the pan with the stout until the onions are deep brown and nearly all of the stout is used, about 30 minutes total.

3. Tear the tough ribs and stems away from the kale and discard or use for stock. Roughly chop the leaves and add half the kale to the onions, tossing with tongs to wilt the leaves. Add the remaining kale, toss, cover, and cook until tender, about 5 minutes. Remove from the heat.

4. With a serrated knife slice off the top quarter of each potato. Use a soup spoon to scoop out the flesh, leaving a 1/4-inch-thick shell on the bottom and sides. Mash the flesh with the buttermilk, butter, and mustard powder. Gently fold in the onion-kale mixture and season with the salt and pepper. Mound the mixture into the potato shells, sprinkle the tops with the cheese, and place on a baking sheet. Bake until the cheese is melted, about 20 minutes, and serve warm as a side dish or a vegetarian main course.

Love Means Having Backup Chocolate

2010-02-15T15:57:00.000-08:00

Ahoy Foodies!

Mr. Tofu and I just spent a peaceful four days at the Oregon coast. We're back, rejuvenated (except for shin splints) and wind blown, and the home fires are burning again. As I type, a pot of Cream of Vegetable Keeper is on the stove and a batch of Irish soda bread is in the oven. It's good to be back in my own kitchen after four days in a rental unit equipped with cookware that predates the Eisenhower administration.

Upon returning from our little getaway, I read all of your entries for the Farm to Table Cookbook giveaway. Thank you all for sharing your stories and thoughtful reflections on your vegetable crushes! It takes a brave person to admit to one's edible romances, so I appreciate your candidness! I got a lot of great ideas for veggies from all of you! Though I admired all of your posts, I am handing the prize this time to Rainy Daisy. Don't dismay, I'll do more giveaways from time to time. A humble thank you to every foodie who entered!

I know St. Valentine's was just yesterday, but if you're anything like me, you've already plowed through your box of V-day truffles. Just like any good mind altering substance- a taste only has you wanting more, so I thought you might like this recipe for Raspberry Truffle Cake, from The Farm to Table Cookbook. Please note that this incredibly smooth, rich, sexy mousse cake is a lesson in reading instructions. Don't think you've heard this recipe before, it's special.

First, you must whip the batter for 10 minutes to make it fluffy, then bake it in a water bath for just 15-20 minutes. You'll think it's crazy, because it will still be lava like in the middle, but keep the faith. Refrigerate it for at least 8 hours and the cake magically sets up. The results? Melt in your mouth chocolate ecstasy.

Oh, before you run off to the kitchen, please take a minute to follow this link >>
to The Oregon Food Bank. There's a lot of hunger all around the world, but there are also many families in our own back yard that desperately need help feeding their families. The numbers in the last year on food insecurity have been grim, so please donate, it's easy and it feels good. When donating, please type in "Blog For Food" in the "in the honor of" column, it will help track food bloggers' progress. Thanks!

Raspberry Truffle Cake

6 to 8 servings

12 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped

10 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into small pieces

5 eggs, at room temperature

1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/8 teaspoon almond extract (optional)

1/2 pint raspberries, divided

Hot water, for baking

Whipped cream, for garnish

Preheat the oven to 375F. Spray a 9-inch springform pan with nonstick cooking spray. Tightly wrap the outside of the pan with 2 layers of foil.

Place a large metal bowl over a pan of barely simmering water, add the chocolate and butter, and stir until the mixture is smooth. Remove the bowl from the pan and allow the mixture to cool to room temperature.

Meanwhile, whip the eggs, salt, vanilla extract, and almond extract in an electric mixer on high speed until pale yellow and tripled in volume, about 10 minutes. Fold half the mixture into the chocolate mixture until no egg streaks remain. Gently fold in the remaining egg mixture (do not overmix or the batter will deflate). Pour the batter into the prepared springform pan.

Set aside 1/2 cup of the raspberries for garnish and sprinkle the remaining raspberries evenly over the batter. Push them into the batter until they are almost submerged.

Place the pan in a large baking dish and transfer to the oven. Carefully pour enough hot water into the baking dish to come halfway up the cake pan. Bake until the top is no longer glossy and the cake pulls away from the side if the pan is tilted slightly, 15 to 20 minutes. (Do not overbake. The cake will still be very soft but will become firmer when refrigerated.) Remove the cake pan from the water and allow it to sit at room temperature until cool. Cover the pan with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 8 hours before serving. If you omit this step, the cake will fall apart.

To unmold, dip bottom of the pan in a bowl of very hot water for 15 seconds and run a thin knife around the edge of the cake to loosen. Release the springform and shake gently to release the cake. Serve with the whipped cream and remaining 1/2 cup of raspberries.

Jerusalem Artichoke & Brussels Sprout Salad, Plus A Book Giveaway

2010-02-01T09:03:00.000-08:00

Ahoy Foodies!

I love living in Portland-- there's a vibrant food culture, a progressive city government, and even a special Food Policy and Programs department. How cool is that? A few months back the director of said department asked me to teach cooking classes in order to help my fellow denizens reduce their carbon foot print by eating local foods. I was thrilled!

So, if you live in Portland, please check out the schedule for my (Nearly) Meatless Monday classes at the Fremont Whole Foods and sign up today! The first class, Global Gourmet February 8th includes: Indian Dal with Local Lamb, Pad Thai with Wild Shrimp/Tofu, Crisp Greek Phyllo Pie with Winter Greens, Moroccan Albacore Tuna en Papillote. $40 for dinner and a show! We'll discuss smart choices when buying meat and seafood and how to cook with less meat and more flavor. Something we all need to think about. You can register by clicking here.

Now, onto my most recent vegetable crush: Jerusalem artichokes, also called sunchokes. These crisp little tubers are native to North America, not the Middle East (the Jerusalem bit comes from the English mispronunciation of "girasole," the Italian term for the tuber). To make the name even more mysterious, they aren't closely related to artichokes. They do, however, have a crisp, juicy flesh that transforms into a buttery, potato-like consistency that tastes a bit like an artichoke when cooked.
What ever you call them, I am smitten. It seems that whatever I do with them, they show me another side of their adaptable nature. Slice them on a mandolin and bake with potatoes, cheese, and cream and I've got a lovely gratin with a complex, buttery flavor. Peel, and finely dice them, and combine them with bell peppers, onions, and pickling spices and I'm rewarded with my Polish grandmother's lovely piccalilli-style relish. Boil them in a soup and puree and they are more slick than velvet. Shave them and eat them raw in a salad, as with the recipe here inspired by a salad I recently enjoyed at Olympic Provisions, and you have a virtuous mid-winter salad that is divine. The possibilities are endless with my crush.

If you would like to learn more about outside-the-box seasonal vegetables and are dieing for creative recipes that use all the bounty you buy at your local farmer's market, may I suggest my book The Farm to Table Cookbook: The Art of Eating Locally? It just came out in paperback, and to celebrate I am giving away a signed copy to the reader who leaves me the best comment to this question:

What is your vegetable crush? Be descriptive.

I will announce the winner next post, February 15th. Good luck!

Shaved Jerusalem Artichoke and Brussels Sprout Leaf Salad
Serves 2

1 tablespoon lemon juice
2 tablespoons fancy extra virgin olive oil
1/4 teaspoon lemon pepper
1 generous pinch sea salt
3 ounces castelvetrano olives
6 ounces Brussels sprouts
4 ounces Jerusalem artichokes
Parmigiano Reggiano cheese
4 anchovies, chopped (optional)

Place the lemon juice in a medium bowl. Slowly whisk in the oil. Add the lemon pepper and salt and whisk to combine.
Using the flat side of a chef's knife, push on each olive until the pit comes free from the olive flesh and the pit can be removed. Cut the pitted olives into slivers and add to the bowl with the lemon juice mixture. Cut the base off of one Brussels sprout. Carefully pull off the outer leaves, continuing to trim the base to release the leaves. Stop when you get to the yellow inner leaves that are tightly packed together, reserve this part of the sprout for another use. Repeat with remaining Brussels sprouts and add the leaves to the bowl with dressing.
Peel the Jerusalem artichokes and thinly slice or shave on a mandoline slicer. Add them to the bowl. Using a sharp vegetable peeler, shave the Parmesan cheese into thin shards until you have about 1/4 cup, loosely packed. Add cheese to the salad. Toss to combine and serve. For meat eaters, add the anchovies.

New Year, New Hoppin John

2010-01-16T13:07:00.000-08:00

Ahoy Foodies!

It's a new year, and I've started it out by getting bronchitis and pneumonia. Woot! I can't taste a thing, which is a good thing when taking copious amounts of cough medicine. (They make that stuff as disgusting-tasting as humanely possible, me thinks.) But, when your WHOLE life revolves around cooking and food, not being able to taste is a nightmare. It's brought me face to face with the fact that I am the most one dimensional person that has ever walked the earth. If a conversation, activity, or subject is not about food, I'm generally not interested. (With the exception, of course, of the history of the aristocracy from about 1413-1800. I'm reading The Duchess of Devonshire right now. LOVE IT.)

I digress. Just as the clever grasshopper put away food for the winter, I have squirreled away a few recipes and photos to share with you, just in case something, like, oh, say, I CANT COOK BECAUSE I CANT TASTE, should happen. So this week, I give you an homage to Southern cooking: Hoppin' John. I posted a similar recipe here a year ago, but this recipe is easier, as in one skillet easy, and serves both Mr. Tofu and sausage-loving diners.

I like to use some mustardy-pungent kielbasa-style handmade sausages from Old Country Sausage Company (10634 NE Sandy Blvd., 503/254-4106, Portland), though honestly what with the beans, the buttery greens, and the rice, you don't REALLY need the sausage. It's just a nice touch for meat-eaters.

Next post, I'll be giving away a brand spanking-new copy of the paperback edition of The Farm to Table Cookbook!!! So bookmark, Tweet, Facebook, RSS feed or what-have-you. You don't want to miss the opportunity to win a signed book, do you? And if you have a request for a seasonal recipe for the next post, go ahead, throw them my way. Since I can't taste right at the moment, I can't think in food, so suggestions would be great!

One Pan Rice and Beans with Greens (and Sausage)

Makes 6 servings

One 8-ounce bunch collard or kohlrabi greens

1/4 cup olive oil

1 cup finely chopped onion

1 medium green bell pepper, finely chipped

2 celery stalks, thinly sliced

1 tablespoon finely chopped garlic

1 tablespoon Cajun seasoning

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 cup long grain rice

2 cups canned vegetable broth, or prepared Vegetarian Chicken Bouillon

1 bay leaf

One 15-ounce can red or kidney beans, drained and rinsed

2 tablespoons hot sauce

6 ounces kielbasa-style sausages, cut on the bias into 1/2-inch thick slices

Wash the greens and shake off excess water. Remove the tough center ribs of each leaf. Roll the leaves up in a tight cylinder and thinly slice them crosswise. Roughly chop the greens and them set aside. (You will need about 4 cups chopped leaves.)

Heat the oil over medium heat in a 3 quart sauté pan with lid. When the oil is hot, add the onion, bell pepper, and celery and sauté until the onion is translucent, 6 minutes. Add the garlic and sauté for 45 seconds. Add the greens and stir with tongs until they are wilted, about 5 minutes.

Add the Cajun seasoning, salt, and rice to the pan and stir to coat the rice with the oil. Add the broth and bay leaf and stir to combine. Increase heat to high and bring to a simmer. Sprinkle the beans over the top of the rice mixture in an even layer. Cover, reduce the heat to medium-low, and cook without stirring until the rice is tender, 25 to 30 minutes. Gently fold the hot sauce into the rice mixture

For the meat-eater portions: In a separate non-stick pan, fry the sausage slices until they are browned and heated through, about 4 minutes per side.

Divide the hoppin' john among 6 bowls, toss the sausage into the meat eaters' portions.

In the eyes of an Irish man

2009-12-31T14:13:00.000-08:00

Ahoy Foodies!

Let me start out this missive by saying that I am not a fan of navel-gazing. You don't read this blog to get a sense of the size, shape and relative lint of the author's navel. You're here because you like/love food. Me too.

That said, I'd like to tell you that I am dedicating this post to my father, who died on December 17th. I am inexpressibly sad to have lost him. I promise I won't bum you out, though. There's a recipe and a joke tied to this post. If there's one thing I learned from my dad it's "start with a joke, end with a joke."

In fact, my dad's greatest attribute was his ability to tell a story and make people laugh. He was a raconteur at the dinner table, at his pub, and on his travels around the globe. The following story was one my father's most recent favorites. On our trip to Ireland this summer, he shared it with bartenders, doctors, shepherds, bell hops, and anybody else in the Emerald Isle who would lend him an ear. Many people did, and they were glad for it.

Murphy the Sweet Tooth
~as told by Tom Manning

"Picture a humble farmhouse. In the bedroom lies Murphy the cobbler on his death bed. Father O'Malley has given the good man his last rites and the room is quiet as he slips in and out of consciousness. Then, a wonderful aroma of cinnamon and sugar wafts up beneath Murphy's nostrils and enlivens him. The smell of Mrs. Murphy's scones baking is so tempting, it makes the dying man sit upright in bed.

With all of his remaining strength, Murphy pulls himself across the house into the kitchen and there, piled high on the table are mounds and mounds of perfect golden brown scones, hot out of the oven. Murphy inhales deeply, a beatific smile spreads across his face. With his last ounce of strength he approaches the table and with a shaking hand reaches for one of the scones...

'WHAP!', a wooden spoon comes down hard across his hand.

"Fuck off! Those are for the funeral!" shouts Mrs. Murphy.

Irish Scones
Makes 6 to 8 scones

1/4 cup currants
2 tablespoons Irish whisky or brandy
10 ounces all purpose flour (about 2 cups plus 1 tablespoon)

2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 cup sugar
1/2 cup cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
1/4 cup toasted hazelnuts, peeled and roughly chopped
1 large egg
1/2 cup buttermilk
1 tablespoon milk
3 tablespoons coarse (demerara) sugar

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F. Combine the currants and booze in a small bowl and allow the fruit to plump for 30 minutes. Discard (or drink) the booze, pat the currants dry with a paper towel, and set them aside.

Put the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg, and sugar in the bowl of a food processor. Pulse to combine. Add the butter and pulse on and off to the refrain of "Jingle Bells" (jjjingle-bells-jjjingle-bells-jjjingle-all-the-waaaayyyyy), so that the butter is in small bits no larger than a brown lentil.

Transfer the flour-butter mixture to a large bowl and fold in the nuts and plumped currants. Whisk the egg into the buttermilk and add all but a few tablespoons of the wet mixture to the flour-butter mixture. Stir until the dough with a rubber spatula until it just comes together, adding more of the buttermilk mixture if the dough is too dry to come together. Turn the dough out onto a very lightly floured surface and knead until the dough is just smooth, a few turns should be enough.

Pat the dough into a 1-inch thick disc and brush it with the milk. Sprinkle the sugar over the top and cut the disc into 6 or 8-equal sized wedges with a chef's knife. Transfer the scones to a baking sheet and bake until the edges are golden brown, 15-20 minutes.

Rest in peace, Papa. I'm sure you've got them rolling with laughter in that big pub in the sky. You are missed down here.
-Ive

Beef Bourguignonne, By Request

2009-12-11T11:36:00.000-08:00

Ahoy Foodies!

I made a wicked good batch of Beef Bourguignonne recently, adapted from a recipe in Lisa Schroeder and Danielle Centoni's beautiful new book, Mother's Best (Taunton, 2009). My guests loved it, I liked it (in fact I had it for breakfast just moments ago), and my buddies on Facebook have been clamouring for the recipe. As did my brother in Wisconsin. Seems everyone in the country is in this deep chill and needs a beefy stew like thing to warm them. In fact, I recommend their book to anyone who likes homey comfort food from around the world.

My testing of the recipe wound up being a bit too thin in the sauce department, which likely has to do with the high-sided stock pot I had to use because I am not lucky enough to own a massive 10-quart Dutch oven the recipe calls for. (Take note loyal readers who want to get me a Christmas gift.)

To remedy the sauce, I simmered it uncovered on the stove for the last 30 minutes to thicken the sauce a bit. Otherwise, it was lovely. Be warned, though: this recipe is true classic French cooking: It takes LOTS of time puttering in the kitchen. If you need dinner on the table in like, 30 minutes, this ain't the recipe for you. If, however, you're snowed in, as my brother was, or feel like getting into the kitchen and channeling your inner Julia Child, the rewards for your time are great. It doesn't hurt to have a glass of red wine to keep you company.

I served the beef stew (because that is really what it is) with celery root mashed potatoes; I've included my recipe for them from my book, The Farm to Table Cookbook: The Art of Eating Locally, which incidentally, would be a nice Christmas gift for all your friends and family who ought to eat more vegetables. I also poured a bottle of the most excellent Resonance Pinot Noir , which you must go seek out immediately. It's like drinking silk. More than this, you know there's nothing, to quote Brian Ferry.

And what about Mr. Tofu, you ask? I made him some seared scallops, because he will eat those if forced to, and they went nicely with the mashers.

Boeuf Bourguignonne
Adapted from Mother's Best, by Lisa Schroeder with Danielle Centoni

5 pound beef chuck roast, cut into 1 1/2 inch chunks
1 1/2 teaspooons kosher salt (divided)
1 1/2 teaspoons freshly ground black pepper
8 ounces pepper bacon (I like Niman ranch), cut crosswise into 1/2 inch pieces
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 large leek, white and light green parts only, thinly sliced
2 cups finely chopped onions
2 1/2 cups finely chopped carrots
1 1/2 tablespoons minced garlic
1/4 cup brandy
1/3 cup all purpose flour
1 nice bottle of dry red wine, such as a French Burgundy from Drouhin
4 cups hot water mixed with 1 package More Than Gourmet Demi Glace, or low sodium canned beef stock
1 bouquet garni (1 bay leaf, 2 sprigs thyme, 3 parsley stems tied together)
3 tablespoons unsalted butter (divided)
4 carrots, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch thick sliced on the bias
1 pound cremini mushrooms, quartered
2 tablespoons chopped Italian parsley

1. Heat oven to 350 F. Season beef cubes with 1 teaspoon of salt and 1 teaspoon of pepper. Cook the bacon in a large Dutch oven (8-10 qt.) until crisp, remove from pan and place of a paper-towel lined plate. Leave bacon fat in pan.
2. Increase heat to high and brown the beef in batches (about 5 batches). Remove all beef from pot, reduce heat to medium-high and add olive oil, if needed. Cook the leeks, onions, and finely chopped carrots and saute until tender, 10 minutes. Add garlic and saute 2 minutes, stirring frequently.
3. Add the brandy and cook for 4 minutes. Reduce heat to medium and stir in the flour, cook 3 minutes. Stir in the wine in small additions, scraping up browned bits. Add the meat and enough stock to just cover the meat, about 3 to 3 3/4 cups. Bring to a boil, cover and transfer to oven.
4. Bake until a large piece of meat can be cut in half easily with a fork, about 2 hours. Remove from oven an simmer uncovered, if necessary, to thicken the sauce.
5. While the stew is simmering on the stove, make the glazed veggies. (The original recipe called for 10 ounces of pearl onions, but I hate them, so I replaced them with sliced carrots.) Place a medium saute pan over medium-high heat. Add a tablespoon of butter and the carrots. Season with salt and pepper and saute until they are lightly browned. Add 1/4 cup stock, cover, and cook until tender and glazed, 15 minutes. Transfer to a bowl.
6. Add remaining butter to the same saute pan, add mushrooms and a bit of salt and pepper, and cook until browned, 10 minutes. Pour into bowl with carrots. Microwave the bacon briefly to reheat it.
7. Season the stew with salt and pepper, if needed. Ladle over mashed potatoes, top with sauteed vegetables, bacon and parsley. Serves 10-12

Celery Root Mashed Potatoes

From The Farm to Table Cookbook, by Ivy Manning (Sasquatch Books, 2008)

6 to 8 servings

6 large Yukon gold potatoes (about 3 pounds), peeled and cut into 2-inch chunks

1 to 1 1/2 pounds celery root

3 medium garlic cloves, peeled

1 tablespoon kosher salt

1 1/2 cups whole milk, plus additional

1 bay leaf

4 black peppercorns

3 tablespoons butter, at room temperature

1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg

2 pinches cayenne

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

1. Put the potatoes in a large pot with enough cold water to cover. Slice off the top stalks (if present) and bottom roots from the celery root and peel the skin and hairy roots away with a sharp vegetable peeler and/or paring knife. Cut the celery root into 1/2-inch slabs, then into 2-inch sticks; add to the pot. Add the garlic, salt, and enough cold water to cover the vegetables by 2 inches. Bring to a boil over high heat and cook until a paring knife slices easily through the largest piece of potato, about 40 minutes.

2. Meanwhile, heat 1 1/2 cups of the milk, bay leaf, and peppercorns in a small saucepan over low heat.

3. Drain the potatoes and celery root. Force them through a potato ricer or food mill to make a silky-smooth purée. Stir in the butter, nutmeg, and cayenne. Remove the peppercorns and bay leaf from milk with a slotted spoon. Add enough milk to potatoes to make a loose purée. Season with the salt and pepper and serve warm.

Tyrolean Gnocchi with Cabbage and Sometimes Bacon

2009-12-07T14:02:00.000-08:00

Ahoy Foodies!

Don't know about your neck of the woods, but it is bitterly cold here. So cold, in fact, I am reminded of a fabulous driving trip I took with Mr. Tofu to Northeastern Eatly, er, I mean Italy.
It wasn't snowy and cold yet when we were there in September, but the farther north we got, the more the villages and landscape looked like scenes from the Sound of Music and the cozier and more German-inflected the language and food got. In pine timber lined dining rooms in front of flagstone fireplaces incongruously situated in the center of the rooms, we ate cozy dishes that married the finesse of Italian cooking with the heartiness of Austrian and German cuisine.

Dishes like this rib-sticking gnocchi. The word gnocchi has German roots and roughly translated means "knot of wood, " probably because of their little round shapes. Though the word has Germanic roots, Italians all over Italy pair the potato-based dumplings with traditional pasta sauces like tomato, basil pesto and the like. But further north, you're just as likely to find the tender little pillows of dough tossed with nutty cow's milk cheese, speck (smoked bacon), caramelized onions, cream, butter, and even tender cabbage.

While I love to use Niman Ranch's stellar sm oky applewood bacon in this quick weeknight dish, my vegetarian husband Mr. Tofu does not appreciate the pork. So after I point out to him what he is missing (and he ignores me), I toss half of the gnocchi with the rich sauce sans bacon. Then the remaining gnocchi and onion-cabbage sauce gets the bacon treatment for me.

On a good day, I make my own gnocchi, I really do. (Email me if you'd like the recipe.) But on busy days, I buy frozen gnocchi from Sheridan Fruit Market in Portland, Oregon. They taste of potato and have a nice light texture, plus you can boil them from the frozen state, so dinner can be ready in about 8 minutes, if you play your cards right. If you're not lucky enough to live here, try Trader Joe's gnocchi. They aren't half bad; not too gummy with a rich flavor akin to the real deal Italian gnocchi.

Gesundheit!

Tyrolean Gnocchi with Cabbage and Sometimes Bacon
Serves 2 to 3

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium onion, thinly sliced
1 medium clove garlic, thinly sliced
5 cups thinly sliced Savoy cabbage
1/4 teaspoon ground caraway seeds
Freshly ground pepper
1 cup mild vegetable broth (I like Imagine No-Chicken Broth)
2 strips Niman Ranch Applewood Smoked Bacon
2 tablespoons finely chopped Italian parsley
2/3 cup grated Gruyere cheese
1 pound fresh potato gnocchi

Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium high heat. When the oil shimmers, add the onions and saute, stirring frequently, until they begin to brown, 5 minutes. Reduce heat to medium and continue to cook until the onions are light brown, 3 minutes more. Add the garlic, cabbage,caraway, and 3 grinds of pepper. Cook, stirring frequently, until the cabbage is wilted, tender and beginning to brown, 7 minutes. Add the broth, bring to a simmer, reduce heat and cook until liquid has reduced by half.

While the sauce is cooking bring a large pot of salted water to a boil and preheat broiler. Microwave the bacon until crisp, reserving some of the fat; set aside. Add the gnocchi to the boiling water and cook until they float to the surface and are tender when bitten into, about 7 minutes for frozen gnocchi. Drain the gnocchi.

Vegetarian: Toss half of them with half of the cabbage mixture and transfer to a gratin dish. Top with half of the cheese.

Toss the remaining gnocchi, sauce, and bacon with 1 tablespoon of rendered fat together in another gratin dish. Top with remaining cheese. Place both gratin dishes under the broiler and broil until cheese melts, 3 minutes.

A Break From Pumpkin Pie

2009-11-23T13:31:00.000-08:00

Ahoy Foodies!

I heard a great quote the other day from Prairie Home Companion's Garrison Keillor: "The best pumpkin pie you've ever had isn't that much different than the worst pumpkin pie you've ever had." In a few days, you probably won't want to see it again for quite some time. Thus, this week I give you another wonderful, autumn-errific dessert to follow up your cozy holiday feasts: Hazelnut Apple Crisp with Calvados.

Calvados, if you've never enjoyed it, is a distilled apple cider brandy from Normandy (the French region renowned for its apples) that is aged in French Oak barrels. It is a strong eau de vie that is good as an aperitif, but is even better when paired with pork dishes and apple crisps like this one.

The brandy-meets-caramel-meets-apple cider flavor of Calvados enhances the tart granny smith apples and the sweeter honeycrisp apples in the base of this not-too-sweet dessert, so it's really worth seeking it out. For the crumbly topping, I use rolled triticale flakes (a wheat/rye hybrid) because they add a nice texture and more substantial flavor than rolled oats. Toasted hazelnuts add a buttery crunch, but if you're allergic, it's fine to leave them out. If you happen to be vegan, use ice cold Earth Balance buttery sticks instead of butter and proceed with the recipe as directed.

I learned how to make this and other crisps at the apron strings of Helen Manning, nee´Pickett, my beautiful Irish-American grandmother. Apples, pork and potatoes came as naturally to her as breathing. She patiently showed me how to blend the flour and butter with just my finger tips so the butter wouldn't melt, taught me how to skin toasted hazelnuts by rubbing them together in a kitchen towel, and educated me on the art of peeling apples with a paring knife so the peel comes off in one long, coiled piece. Throw the peel over your shoulder, she instructed, and whatever letter the peel formed on the floor behind you will be the first initial of your husband-to-be. I don't recall if my peels ever displayed an "M" for Mister or a "T" for Tofu, but I do remember how much fun she made mundane chores like peeling apples. Every time I smell a crisp a'bakin', I know she's in my kitchen, at least in spirit.Hazelnut Apple Crisp with Calvados
Serves 4 to 6

2 Granny Smith apples, peeled, cored and cut into 1/2-inch thick slices
2 Honeycrisp apples, peeled, cored and cut into 1/2-inch thick slices
2 tablespoons Calvados
1/2 cup plus 1 tablespoon sugar, divided
1/8 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1/2 cup flour
1/2 cup triticale flakes
1/4 cup chopped toasted hazelnuts
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon (I like Vietnamese Cinnamon)
1/8 teaspoon ground ginger (dried)
5 tablespoons unsalted butter, diced and chilled for 30 minutes
Vanilla ice cream or soy ice cream

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F. Spray a 10 x 6-inch or 8 x 8-inch baking dish with cooking spray. Toss the apples, Calvados, 1 tablespoon of sugar, and nutmeg together and pour into baking dish.
Combine the remaining sugar, flour, triticale flakes, hazelnuts, cinnamon, and ginger in a large bowl. Rub the butter into the sugar mixture until small clumps form when the mixture is squeezed and the butter in is pieces no larger than a pea. Chill in freezer for 10 minutes. Sprinkle sugar-butter mixture over the apples and bake until the top is golden brown and apples are bubbly around the edges of the baking dish, 35 minutes. Serve warm with vanilla ice cream or soy ice cream.

Thanksgiving For Every-vore

2009-11-17T10:02:00.000-08:00

Ahoy Foodies!

If you are like me, then the food magazines emblazoned with perfect golden turkeys and picture perfect pies have been crowding your mail box (and then your coffee table or bedside table) since last month. It's so fun to flip through them and visualize the infinitely time-consuming feast you'll be cooking for your family and friends for Thanksgiving. It's quite a meal, what with the giant bird, brining, stuffing, mashing, whisking, fluting, and gravying. So cooking a whole separate entree for the vegetarian or vegan in your life while juggling EVERYTHING ELSE can be the straw that breaks the camel, er, cook's back.

I feel your Thanksgiving mixed-diet pain. And I've got a solution for you. I've written a guest post for The Kitchn.com based on a recipe from my book, The Adaptable Feast to help you out. It goes like this: Make my recipe for moist, delectable cornbread stuffing. Stuff some into Delicata squash boats. Stuff the rest in a butterflied turkey breast. Bake them together, serve with shiitake mushroom gravy (made with mushroom stock) and you've got T-day sorted out. For the recipes, click here. For everyday adaptable recipes, buy The Adaptable Feast here.

Gobble Gobble!

Thai Yellow Green Curry with Shrimp or Tofu

2009-11-10T10:47:00.000-08:00

Ahoy Foodies!

From the Shameless Self Promotion Department: Come get a signed copy of The Adaptable Feast this Sunday, November 15th at 2pm at Powell's City of Books and meet me and the famed Mr. Tofu. We'd love to see you there!

A few years back, I was fortunate enough to spend 3 weeks in various kitchens in Thailand. There, I was indoctrinated into the cult of homemade Thai curry pastes. For weeks my palate was swimming with the exotic flavors of galangal root, keffir lime zest, and shrimp paste. Sure, it was fun to learn how to take all those sexy ingredients and bash out all my frustrations with a mortar and pestle. BUT, like everyone else I am busy busy busy. There are nights when all I want a curry and I want it with minimal effort, so I reach for a good ol' can of Maesri curry paste. However, I can't help but doctor it bit to make it taste more authentic.

For this recipe, I mash some fresh garlic and the fragrant roots of cilantro together with the canned green curry paste. Cilantro roots, pictured on Blazing Hot Wok's blog here, are thin, filamenty roots sometimes found still attached to bunches of cilantro. They add a subtle,earthy flavor that is something like cilantro crossed with parsnip. (You can sub finely chopped cilantro stems in a pinch, but they don't give you quite as lovely of a flavor.) When you do find cilantro roots, snap up a few bunches with the thinnest roots (they are more tender and flavorful) and freeze them for up to 3 months.

Fortunately, Mr. Tofu is not a very strict vegetarian, so he'll concede to having a touch of fish sauce in his Thai food now and then. Just in case that's not true in your home, I've written the recipe so that the veggie portion is seasoned with Bragg's Liquid Aminos instead of the fish sauce. The liquid aminos are a bit saltier than fish sauce, with a sort of amber yumminess that's hard to describe. Add it to taste and counter it with just a bit of lime juice to balance the flavors.

Thai Yellow-Green Curry with Shrimp or Tofu

Serves 4

4 small cloves garlic

Four 3-inch long cilantro stems (or 2 tablespoons finely chopped stems), finely minced

2 tablespoons green curry paste

1 1/2 tablespoons mild curry powder

1 teaspoon turmeric

1 tablespoon canola oil

Two 13.5 ounce cans coconut milk (I like Chaokoh brand)

1 small onion, thinly sliced

1 stalk celery, thinly sliced with leaves

3 mild red chilies (such as red jalapeno, seeded), julienned

1 cup bamboo shoots, drained and rinsed

3 tablespoons sweet and condensed milk

4 teaspoons palm sugar

4 ounces firm tofu, cut into 1 inch cubes

Bragg's Liquid Aminos, to taste

Juice of 1 lime (use to taste)

4 teaspoons fish sauce

3/4 pound peeled and deveined shrimp

1/2 cup cilantro leaves, for garnish

1/2 cup Thai basil, chopped, for garnish

4 keffir lime leaves, rolled up tightly and very thinly sliced into ribbons (chiffonade)

In a mortar and pestle, pound the garlic and cilantro stems until they are a paste. Add the curry paste, curry powder, and turmeric and pound until smooth and well combined.

Heat the oil in a wok over medium-high heat. Add the curry paste mixture, reduce heat to low and cook, stirring constantly, until the mixture is fragrant, about 5 minutes. Increase the heat to medium; add the coconut milk. Add the onions, celery, peppers, and bamboo shoots, and simmer gently until the vegetables are tender, 15 minutes.

Stir in the sweet and condensed milk and palm sugar, stir to combine and dissolve the sugar. Vegetarian: transfer 1/4 of the curry to a small saucepan, add the tofu, and season with Bragg's Liquid Aminos and lime juice to taste. Keep warm over medium-low heat.

Add the shrimp and fish sauce to the remaining curry in the wok, simmer until the shrimp are pink and cooked through, 4 minutes.

Garnish with the curries with the cilantro, basil, and lime leaves. Serve with steamed jasmine rice.

Idli with South Indian Butternut Dal

2009-10-28T16:57:00.000-07:00

Ahoy Foodies!

This week I am giving you a bit of science experiment-type recipe. You know the kind: a project that you can tinker with over a rainy weekend that takes a bit of soaking, peeking, grinding and then fermenting. They're idli, a south Indian invention of spongy rice-lentil cakes that are made from hulled black lentils (urad dal) and rice that are soaked, ground, fermented and steamed. Idlis have a slight fermented flavor (think Ethiopian flatbread, only milder, white and puck shaped) and a comforting texture that lends them to the breakfast food or a snack category in India. I serve them as a starch with a coconut based dal (lentil soup) for lunch, dinner, and if there are any leftovers, breakfast too. The recipe is adapted from Mangoes and Curry Leaves: Culinary Travels Through The Great Subcontinent, by Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid, my idols.

Making the batter involves soaking the little white lentil bits (available at Indian markets) and the rice overnight in separate bowls. Next you drain them, grind with a touch of water and leave the batter to ferment at least overnight, if not for 24 hours. That part is pretty flexible, the longer you ferment them, the more flavorful and puffy the idli, but even 4 hours yields a pretty tasty rice'n'lentil puck, especially if you add a few tablespoons of plain yogurt to add a sour note. In the summer the fermentation takes place all by itself, but in the winter idli need a little help. I've found that if you place the bowl of batter on a heating pad set on low, the batter will ferment quite well. It will begin to look a bit bubbly and puffy and it will smell a tiny bit yeasty. It sounds crazy, but it's really simple, and the fermenting not only adds loads of flavor, it also breaks down some of the indigestible starches, making the dal easier to digest.

Idli are usually steamed in an ingenious little stacked unit of metal plates (see above) that have shallow indents in them, or a plastic microwave version of the same. I paid a whopping $12 for mine. You can find idli steamer racks or "trees" at Southeast Asian and Indian stores, or you can use an egg poacher or custard dishes stacked in a bamboo steamer instead.

If the idli experiment is too much for you, just try mt creamy, exotic flavored dal recipe, it's wonderful ladled over plain bastmati rice. Or you can buy idli mix (no science lab necessary) at Indian groceries, just add water and steam. But really, what is the geeky food-chemistry fun in that?

Idli with South Indian Butternut Squash Dal
Serves 6 (makes 16-20 3-inch idli discs)

For the idli:
1/2 cup urad dal (hulled, split black lentils, which are actually cream-colored)
1 1/2 cups long grain rice
1 cup warm water
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 tablespoons melted ghee or butter

For the dal:
3 tablespoons ghee or vegetable oil
1 1/2 teaspoons brown mustard seeds
1 teaspoon cumin seeds
1o fresh curry leaves
1 black cardamom
1 1/2 cups minced onion
1 cup chana dal (dried split, hulled garbanzo beans), soaked for 4 hours, drained
3 cups grated raw butternut squash
4 cups water
1 can coconut milk
1 teaspoon turmeric
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 serrano chile, minced

Make the idli. Rinse the urad dal in several changes of water, cover with water and soak for 8 to 12 hours. Drain and rinse. Do the same with the rice in a separate bowl. Blend the drained urad dal and 1/2 cup warm water in a blender, stopping to scrape down sides. Process until mixture is smooth paste. Pour into a glass or plastic bowl. Add the drained rice to the blender, add all but 2 tablespoons of the remaining warm water to blender and blend until smooth. Add to bowl with ground urad dal, using the remaining water to swish out the blender. Stir in the salt, cover with plastic and nestle the bowl onto a heating pad set on low heat. Allow mixture to ferment for 8 to 24 hours. Peek once in awhile and inhale the fermenty goodness. Make sure your heating pad doesn't get too hot or you will cook the batter!

About 1 hour and 20 minutes before you want to eat, make the dal. Heat the ghee in a 2-quart saucepan over medium heat. Add the mustard and cumin seeds and cook until the mustard seeds have popped, about 1 minute. Add the cardamom, curry leaves and onions and cook until onions are beginning to brown, 8 minutes. Add the drained chana dal, squash, water, turmeric, coconut milk and 1 teaspoon of salt and bring to a simmer. Cook over medium low heat, stirring frequently until the dal is tender, about 1 hour.

Thirty minutes before the dal is done cooking, steam the idi batter. Sprinkle the baking soda over the batter and very gingerly fold it into the batter. Try not to knock too much air out of it or the idli will be too dense...you want them to be puff-puff-puffy. Brush the idli indents liberally with melted ghee. Ladle about 2 tablespoons of the batter into each indent, stack the steamer and place it in a pot with about 2 inches of water in the bottom. Put the pot over high heat and when the water in the bottom has come to a boil, cover the pot, reduce heat to maintain a simmer and cook until the idli are springy to the touch and cooked through, about 30 minutes.

Season the dal with the additional 1/2 teaspoon of salt, if necessary. Use a small off set spatula to loosen the idli from the steamer. Serve the idli with a bowl of dal. Sprinkle with serrano chile if you like it a bit of spice. (In the unlikely event you have leftover idli, store them in a ziplock bag once cool in the refrigerator. Reheat by microwaving with a damp paper towel over the top.)

Greek Baked Orzo and Meatballs or "Eatballs"

2009-10-22T14:38:00.000-07:00

Ahoy Foodies!

Lately I have been craving Greek food--rich casseroles of moussaka, pastitsio, octopus stew, and above all baked orzo bobbing with herby meatballs. It's not soul food for me in the sense that I certainly didn't grow up on such exotic fare. But it is memory-food all the same. You see, when I was the ripe old age of 17, my parents shipped me off to Greece as part of AFS, a foreign exchange program, mostly to get rid of me, but also to "broaden my horizons," which meant they hated my boyfriend.

When I announced the news to my small town friends, they were horrified. I was going to be missing the whole summer, they warned me. A summer, I remember pointing out to them, that would consist of driving around the McDonald's parking lot trying to find out where the parties were.

I was placed with a host family completely randomly. Fortunately, the foodie gods smiled down upon me: I was placed with Nicolas and Despina Kritharalis retired pastry chefs/bakery owners in far northern Greece on the Aegean sea. They brought me in to teach their athletic, super- hyper daughter Penny how to speak English. That didn't really work, since Penny was too busy at the track practicing her discus throwing and javelin skills (I kid you not).

In the meantime, I spent most of my time in the kitchen watching Despina and Nicolas cook. I had no idea what they were saying, but I wrote down what they were doing. I still have that sauce-stained Hello Kitty notebook, and it is full of really great Greek recipes that I learned by watching. This week, I give you their baked orzo with lamb meatballs.

It's a particularly good recipe if you're busy because the orzo bakes in broth with vegetables and a good amount of oregano and dill, no boiling and draining necessary. Despina would add braised lamb chunks or Keftedes-- tender, almost creamy meatballs seasoned with fresh mint and oregano. If you don't have the time, you can buy premade beef or turkey meatballs instead. For Mr. Tofu, I bake a separate gratin of orzo with Nate's Mushroom Meatballs, which he always eats second helping of.

Ah, Greece. I have such fond memories of the 3 hour lunches on the Kritharalis' patio overlooking the Aegean sea. The stewed goat, olive oil french fries, octopus in red wine, little donut holes soaked in honey syrup. Was I ever homesick? Did I miss my boyfriend or driving around with my friends in old station wagons? Uh, no. Instead, I got to dive off rocks into the sea, go to discos until 3 in the morning, and eat the best Greek food on the planet. I gained 10 pounds, and I'll never regret a bite of it.

Greek Baked Orzo and Meatballs or Eatballs
Serves 1 to 2 vegetarians and 3 omnivores

For the orzo:

2 tablespoons Greek olive oil

1 1/2 cups finely chopped onion

2 celery stalks, chopped

1 small green bell pepper, seeded and chopped

3 cloves finely chopped garlic

1 15-ounce can diced tomatoes, with juice

1 teaspoon dried oregano

1 teaspoon dried dill

1 1/2 cups orzo

4 1/3 cups water mixed with 4 teaspoons Harvest Vegetarian Chicken Broth Bouillon Powder

4 ounces creamy feta cheese, crumbled (for topping pasta last ten minutes of baking)

For the meatballs and eatballs:

1 slice of sandwich bread, torn into tiny pieces

3 tablespoons plain yogurt

8 ounces lean ground lamb

1 1/2 teaspoons minced garlic, smashed to a paste

1 teaspoon onion powder

2 teaspoons minced fresh mint

1/2 teaspoon oregano

1 egg yolk

3 tablespoons finely crumbled feta cheese

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/8 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

2 tablespoons Greek olive oil, divided

7 prepared vegetarian meatballs (such as Nate's brand mushroom meatballs)

Preheat oven to 350°. Heat the olive oil in a large saute pan over medium heat. Add the onions, celery, and bell peppers and saute until onion is tender, 8 minutes. Add the garlic, oregano and dill, saute 20 seconds. Add the tomatoes and simmer for 1 minute. Take pan off of the heat and add the orzo. Stir to combine.

Transfer 3 cups of the orzo-vegetable mixture to a 2-quart capacity baking dish and pour 3 1/3 cups of the bouillon mixture over the orzo. Transfer to oven. Vegetarian: Pour the remaining 1 cup of the orzo-vegetable mixture to a 4-cup baking dish. Add the remaining bouillon mixture and transfer to the oven.

Bake the orzo for 30 minutes. While the orzo is baking, make the meatballs. Combine the bread and yogurt in a medium bowl and allow it to soften for a few minutes. Add the ground beef, garlic, onion powder, oregano, mint, egg yolk, cheese, salt, and pepper and squish and stir until the mixture is well blended. Form into small meatballs.

Vegetarian: Heat 1 tablespoon of the oil in a saute pan over medium high heat. Add the eatballs and cook until browned on all sides. Transfer to a plate.

Return the pan to medium heat, add the remaining tablespoon of oil and when it is hot, add the meatballs. Cook until browned on all sides and nearly cooked through, 10 minutes. Drain.

Take the baking dishes out of oven and stir pasta gently. Add the eatballs to the small baking dish, pushing them into the pasta slightly. Add the meatballs to the larger baking dish. Sprinkle both dishes with the feta cheese and continue to bake until the sauce is bubbling, 10 minutes. Let stand for 10 minutes before serving, the pasta will absorb moisture as it cools.

Creamy Autumn Vegetable Soup with Smoked Paprika Oil

2009-10-12T11:22:00.000-07:00

Autumn Goodies From Winter Green Farm
Ahoy Foodies!

Is it just me or is this not the BEST time to visit farmer's markets and cook? I trotted over to the new f.m. in my neighborhood (King Farmer's Market) this Sunday and between the gorgeous Rouge Vif D'Etamps squash (which always remind me of Cinderella's pumpkin carriage) to the last of the year's eggplant, I got all geeked-out and high from all the vegetable goodness.

I was so veggie-high in fact, that I bought a lot of really beautiful stuff, especially the organic celery root and other autumny goodness from Winter Green Farm. Almost more than I could carry. I didn't realize that I had absolutely no idea what I was going to do with all of it until I tried to cram it all in the fridge. There was no way in hell it was all going to fit in there, so I needed to figure out something quick.

Which reminded me of my old pal Trina. Trina is a great chef with a wickedly wry sense of humor and kitchen smarts like I've never seen. One day while we were slaving away at a now defunct-catering company, I looked at the clock and realized in panic that it was almost the lunch hour and we hadn't made the daily soup for our lunch rush. I asked Trina what in the world we were going to do. She stopped slicing meat, arched her left eyebrow and said, "I dunno, cream of walk-in."

"Walk-in" is kitchen speak for a walk-in refrigerator. Trina calmly went into the walk-in, grabbed a bunch of vegetables, sweated them in butter, added housemade chicken stock and simmered it for 40 minutes. She pureed the soup with an immersion blender and added cream. The results? A rich, silky smooth soup with great vegetable flavor in under an hour. It was a big hit with our daily lunch crowd and with me. I've never forgotten it.

Yesterday, I applied the same "cream of walk-in" strategy to my farmer's market booty, plus some bits and bobs I found in the vegetable keeper. Instead of chicken stock, I used water and a few tablespoons of Harvest brand Vegetarian Bouillon Mix-Chicken Flavor (available at Asian markets and by clicking the link) so Mr. Tofu could enjoy the soup too. For a snazzy topping, I drizzled bowls of soup with a blend of light olive oil and smoked Spanish paprika. Whizzed in the blender, the two ingredients combine to make a brilliant orange condiment that looks lovely drizzled on soups and lends a subtle smoky flavor to everything it touches.

As for the vegetable in the soup, I've listed what I used, but feel free to use whatever veggies you have on hand with the caveat that really strong flavored stuff like broccoli may hijack the flavor if used in too large of a quantity. Stick to the 6 pounds of mixed vegetables:8 cups water or stock:1 cup cream and you'll have yourself a big pot of vegetable comfort in no time. Call it "cream of vegetable keeper," if you like.

Creamy Autumn Vegetable Soup with Smoked Paprika Oil
Serves: an Army

1 1/2 pounds celery root (green stalks attached and set aside), peeled and chopped
2 tablespoons of butter
1 small onion, chopped
2 medium carrots (6 ounces)
2 parsnips (about 8 ounces), peeled and chopped
2 ounces fennel bulb (feathery leaves discarded), chopped
Three 3-inch long sprigs fresh thyme
1 1/2 pounds Yukon gold potatoes, peeled and chopped
3 ears of corn, kernels shaved off cob (15 ounces corn kernels)
8 cups cold water
2 tablespoons Harvest Vegetarian Bouillon Mix-Chicken Flavor1 cup heavy cream
4 tablespoons mild olive oil
2 tablespoons Spanish smoked Paprika
Freshly ground black pepper

Chop about 5 of the celery root stalks finely. Melt the butter in a large pot over medium heat. Add the celery root stalks (not the root yet), onion, carrots, parsnips, fennel and thyme sprigs. Cover and cook until the vegetables are tender but have not colored, about 5 minutes.

Add the potatoes, celery root, corn, and water and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to medium-low, cover and simmer gently until the vegetables smoosh easily when pressed against the side of the pot, about 45 minutes. Taste and add the bouillon mix if needed. Blend with an immersion blender, or allow soup to cool for 10 minutes and blend in blender in batches. Run blended soup through a food mill with the finest disc, or pass it through a fine-mesh sieve back into the pot.

Add the cream to the soup and heat over low heat until hot throughout, about 5 minutes. While the soup is reheating, make the smoked paprika oil. Combine the oil and paprika in a blender and run until thoroughly blended, about 3 minutes. Transfer to a squeeze bottle with fine tip.
Ladle the soup into warm bowls, grind black pepper over each bowl and drizzle with paprika oil.

Ma Po Tofu For Mr. Tofu (And Mrs. Bacon)

2009-10-06T10:28:00.000-07:00

Ma Po Tofu For Mr. Tofu

Ahoy Foodies!

I know, I have been neglecting you for the last few weeks. It's no excuse, but here goes anyway: I was minding my own business, chopping, stirring and typing and I got a call from the editor of a big magazine. I mean like, BIG. And apparently this mag is sticking around. Out of the blue they decided that they liked my first book, The Farm to Table Cookbook and they asked me to write a 9-recipe feature about spring vegetables. So needless to say, I've been elated and busy in the kitchen for the past few weeks. Happily dancing about with asparagus, artichokes and peas.

In between all of that, my second book, The Adaptable Feast, appeared on the shelves at my local New Seasons Market and on the virtual shelves of Amazon and Powell's. Very exciting, Adaptable Feast is finally available to the masses! SO, if you like my recipes, or live with a Mr. or Mrs. Tofu yourself, or are anticipating sharing the holidays with someone of a different diet, or know someone who is, order AF here. If you'd like to have a copy signed, see my appearance schedule, including Wordstock, here. Thanks!

Now, on to the food. I love ma po tofu. The name is said to refer to a pock-marked grandmother/restaurateur in the Szechuan province of China who first served a dish of silky tofu swathed in a sauce of black bean sauce, Szechuan pepper and ground pork. I've always found it kind of funny that there exists dishes that combine tofu with meat, seems counter-intuitive. But when meat is scarce and tofu is not, meat becomes a flavor agent, a condiment. And that's a fine, healthy way of eating. In cultures where tofu isn't considered food only for tree-hugging hippies, it makes sense.
Ma Po Tofu For Meat Eaters

The Szechuan peppercorns in this dish will amplify the chili heat, and make your lips and tongue a bit numb. It's a fantastic sensation, if you like that sort of thing. Szechuan peppercorns aren't from the pepper family, but rather the prickly ash tree. Until recently they were banned by the USDA from being imported into the U.S. because they might contain a citrus canker disease that, if introduced into the country, might wipe out all of our citrus trees. So for years we've lived without. A few years ago the ban was lifted, now it's fairly easy to find it at gourmet shops and Asian markets. If you don't have it, just substitute black pepper in this recipe. Between me, you and the Cuisinart, it's not my favorite thing, so I use it in moderation.

But what about the meat in it? For Mr. Tofu, the sauce gets tofu crumbles (also notice his bowl has no broccoli on it. He hates it. Can't imagine why.) I add cooked ground pork or beef for my portion, so we're both a little numb and tingly. Hope you like it, and thanks for checking back in with Ivy's Feast! I'll be here more often from now on, I promise.

Ma Po Tofu for Everyone
Serves 2 vegetarians and 2 omnivores

2 tablespoons garlic chili paste such as Sambal Olek brand
1 1/2 tablespoons Chinese rice wine
1 tablespoon sugar
1 heaping tablespoon black bean garlic paste such as Lee Kum Kee brand
1 cup No-chicken broth or homemade vegetable broth
1 tablespoon cornstarch
2 tablespoons thin soy sauce
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
2 large garlic cloves, thinly sliced
14 ounces firm tofu, drained and cut into 1-inch cubes
4 ounces tofu crumbles
4 ounces ground pork or beef, browned and drained
1/2 teaspoon Szechuan peppercorns, toasted in a dry pan and ground
2 green onions, finely chopped
1 small bunch broccoli, cut into florets and steamed
4 cups steamed rice

Combine the chili paste, rice wine, sugar, and black bean paste in a small bowl. In a separate glass measuring cup, combine the broth, cornstarch and soy sauce.

Heat the vegetable oil in a large wok over medium-high heat. Add the garlic and stir-fry 20 seconds. Add the chili paste mixture and stir fry until fragrant, 1 minute. Stir the broth mixture to make sure the cornstarch is dissolved and add it to the pan. Simmer until the sauce is bubbly, about 1 minute. Gently fold the tofu into the sauce.

Vegetarian: Transfer half of the contents of the wok to a saute pan and gently fold the soy crumbles into the tofu mixture. Cook over medium heat until hot throughout, 2 minutes.

Fold the cooked ground meat into the remaining sauce/tofu in the wok and cook over medium heat until heated through, 4 minutes.

Sprinkle half of the ground pepper over the meaty ma po tofu, the other half over the vegetarian ma po tofu and serve with rice.

Irish Mashers with Garlic and Cheddar

2009-09-06T11:22:00.000-07:00

Ahoy Foodies!

I promised that I would pen a few recipes inspired by the lovely trip I took with my father, brother, and Mr. Tofu to Ireland, but truthfully the weather was so sunny and warm, it's been hard to get a hankerin' for potatoes and the like. Until yesterday, when a huge grey cloud wandered over our house, opened up, and dumped impossible amounts of cold rain on us and our (slowly) ripening tomatoes, causing them to split.

The grey skies had me nostalgic for Ireland, in particular a stellar, no, life-altering, gratin of cheddar-cloaked mashed potatoes we had in Birr, County Offaly. Birr is a charming Victorian town full of narrow one-way streets lined with shops, a 15th century castle with an enormous telescope and astronomy museum, and most notably The Thatch Pub.

I asked the front desk clerk, a doppelganger for Rose McGowan, for a recommendation for the best "real" pub in town. She suggested "da tatch". I was skeptical. My dad, a publican himself, is a connoisseur of pubs; he can spy a stale Guinness tap or faux antique Smithick's sign from 50 paces. A pub named after the old-school thatch roofs that are fast disappearing from Ireland sounded a little Disneyfied. "It's not too touristy, is it?" I asked Rose. She looked at me as if I was insane, "Ur, um, there aren't many tourists in Birr a'tall, miss," was her reply.

The Thatch is in a nondescript suburb, an old white washed cottage with the eponymous roof. As we entered the low door into the rather close entry way, the manager, Des Connole, came up to us all smiles and asked us "friends, would ye happen to have a reservation then?" We didn't, but it mattered little, he whisked us past the wedding party in the restaurant into the bar side of the pub. He seated us in front of a enormous stone fireplace, filled our beer orders (Guinness all around), and told us all about his relatives in New York State seemingly all at once.

Directly to our right seated at the bar was an old gentleman with grayish hair slicked back, a three piece Donegal tweed suit, dark sunglasses, and a glower. He couldn't look more like Samuel Beckett if he tried. The weight of the world seemed to be upon him, he talked to no one, though everyone in the room seemed to know each other, instead he just stared into his pint, head in hands. He moved only to go out for a smoke. When he returned, my dad whispered to me, "Ah, glad he's back, old boy. I thought he'd gone to the parking lot to blow his brains out."

I could go on forever about The Thatch. It's everything you want from a country pub, plus the food was amazing. I mean amazing. Dad reveled in an apple-stuffed pork loin glazed in cider, Mr. Tofu liked his mushroom pastry thingy, and my tandoori prawns were de-lovely. And then, without a word, a bar maid plunked a large gratin dish of mashed potatoes swathed in cheddar, the edges still popping and spitting with butter on the table. It comes with every meal, apparently. Dad took a bite, sheepishly looked at me and said, "Oh, Ive."

I ate until I was overstuffed, but could not stop. I asked the manager how they were done, and he stumbled through a rough description of it, "It's just good potatohs, you see. And cream, and butterh, of course." Next I asked his wife, who was also buzzing about serving tables. She seemed tickled that I loved them so much, especially since I was, as my dad informed her, "a famous cookbook author from America." Ahem.

She stopped, bar tray against her hip and squinted. "Ay. It's the potatohs now isn't it? I've been to New York, and they don't taste like a thing anyhow. But you could try..." And she gave me a rough idea of how the BEST mashed potatoes in the world are made. So I offer you the recipe here. They're close, but to get the real thing, I'm afraid you'll have to go to The Thatch.

Garlic Mashed Potatoes with Cheddar
serve 1 Ivy, or 4 normal adults as a side dish

2 1/2 pounds Yukon Gold Potatoes (buy the very best potatoes you can possibly find, and don't put them in the refrigerator. I recommend farmer's markets.)
1 tablespoon salt
1 cup organic whipping cream
1/2 cup Kerry Irish Gold Butter, or other cultured butter
2 teaspoons minced dried garlic (from Penzey's)
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
Salt and pepper, to taste
1 cup grated sharp cheddar, such as Dubliner

Peel the potatoes, cut into 2 inch chunks and place in a pot with the salt and cold water to cover. Bring the water to a boil, reduce heat and simmer until the potatoes are tender when pierced with a fork. Drain and push through a food mill, potato ricer, or mash by hand until smooth.

Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Stir in half the cream, half the butter, nutmeg and half of the garlic. Taste, season with salt and pepper and pile into a buttered baking dish. Sprinkle the remaining garlic, cream and butter on top. Top with the cheddar. Bake for 20 minutes, until piping hot. Turn on the broiler and broil 4 inches below the broiling element until the cheese is bubbling and the butter is sizzling around the edges.

Creamy Coconut Tapioca Pudding with Spiced Pineapple

2009-08-29T16:25:00.000-07:00

Ahoy Foodies!

I missed out on a lot of foods growing up. My mother was not much of a cook, to say they least. She cooked a limited number of dishes —canned beet salad, mock chicken legs (don't ask), Caesar salad with dressing from a bottle and a liberal shake of garlic powder, steak. That was about it. Her palate leans towards the lean and salad-y. No creamy, starchy things like real
macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, fettuccine alfredo, or tapioca pudding ever made it to our table.

Which might explain why I've been making up for lost time on the starchy-creamy front ever since I was old enough to cook. Sometimes I even taunt her during our weekly phone conversations with stories of creamy dishes I make like Quick and Creamy Lasagna For Two, just to get a cream and carb-loathing rise out of her. (Heh heh.)

One of the last things on my starchy-creamy discovery frontier has been tapioca. It's been as foreign to me as tuna noodle casserole is for as long as I can remember. That is until recently, when I came across tapioca pearls at my favorite Asian grocery story. Bags and bags of tiny pearls, large pearls, translucent multi-colored zig zags were stacked high in a beguiling section of the store full of other exotica like panadus leaf extract, grass jelly and basil seed drink. What had I been missing all these years?

I had to bring some home to find out. But since I'd never even touched the stuff before, I was a blank slate of sorts. I turned to the lovely Nancy McDermott's excellent cookbook, Quick and Easy Vietnamese and took a gander at her treatment of tapioca in her recipe for Warm Banana-Coconut Pudding with Tapioca Pearls for tips, and took it from there.

Since tapioca by itself can be kind of dull, I topped the coconut creamy mess (which just so happens to be vegan) with a tropical fruit partner: ripe pineapple caramelized with vanilla bean, star anise, cinnamon, and dark rum. The results are not anything close to the thick, dairy-laden tapioca pudding I missed out on as a kid growing up in Wisconsin. But it is creamy, soothing, and super delicious. So I don't mind so much that I only recently discovered the creamy goodness of tapioca; I can eat it like a kid now, and that's good enough for me.

Creamy Coconut Tapioca Pudding with Spiced Pineapple
Serves 4 (with some leftovers for breakfast!)

pudding:
3 cup water
1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons small tapioca pearls (not instant tapioca)
1/2 vanilla bean
2/3 cup sugar
One 13.5-ounce can coconut milk
1 generous pinch salt

spiced pineapple:
2 tablespoons butter
One 2-pound pineapple, peeled, cored and chopped
1/2 vanilla bean
2 star anise
1/2 cinnamon stick
2 tablespoons brown sugar
2 tablespoons dark rum

Bring the water to a boil in a medium saucepan. Gradually stir in the tapioca, reduce heat and simmer gently, stirring frequently (especially on the bottom of the pan), until the tapioca have begun to soften and have tiny white dots in the center of each pearl, 10 minutes.
Split the vanilla bean and scrape out the sticky dark seeds from pod. Add pod, seeds, sugar, coconut milk, and salt to pan, continue to cook over low, stirring frequently, until the tapioca are tender, about 10 to 15 minutes. Transfer to a large metal bowl and chill until cool and thickened, 30 minutes.

Meanwhile, make the pineapple. Split the vanilla pod and scrape the sticky black seeds. Heat the butter (or 1 tablespoon of vegetable oil, if making the dessert vegan) over medium high heat in a large saute pan until melted. Add the vanilla seeds and pod, pineapple, star anise, and cinnamon stick to the pan. Saute until the fruit begins to caramelize, 10 minutes. Turn off the heat, add the rum and sugar. Return to medium heat and simmer until the juices are thick and syrupy, about 10 minutes.

Spoon the tapioca into 4 pudding dishes or high ball glasses. Top with the warm pineapple and serve. (Leftover tapioca and pineapple can be covered and kept in the refrigerator separately for up to 1 week. Reheat the pineapple briefly. You may wish to thin the pudding with a bit of coconut milk or dairy milk to loosen the texture.)
(all photos copyright Gregor Torrence 2009)

Seared Salmon with Corn, Cherry Tomatoes and Basil Sauté

2009-08-25T13:12:00.000-07:00

Ahoy Foodies!

This just in from the shameless self-promotion department.... I am an occasional guest on my local ABC affiliates morning show, KATU's AM Northwest, you know, doing my cookin' thing.

Today, I demonstrated what to do with all those cherry tomatoes you likely have taking over your garden. Right now they are sweet, tangy and oh-so-perfect. But besides tossing them in salads, what do you do with all of them? Why sauté them with bacon, fresh-off-the-cob sweet corn and basil of course! Click the above thumbnail video to watch the lovely Helen Raptis and the too-funny Dave Anderson help me throw together this perfect summer meal in minutes.

But what will Mr. Tofu eat? Well, this is one of those meals where I make him a separate tomato-corn sauté and sear some pre-marinated tofu for him, because I just can't have this dish without bacon. That's true of a lot dishes, actually. But since the meaty recipe takes seconds to prepare, it's really no bother to do a veggie one, too.

Seared Wild Salmon with Corn, Cherry Tomato and Basil Sauté
Makes 4 servings

2 slices thick-cut bacon, diced
1 tablespoon olive oil
3 ears sweet corn, shucked and cut off cobs (about 2 1/2 cups)
1 cup cherry tomatoes
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 teaspoons vegetable oil
Four 4- to 6-ounce wild salmon fillets, skin on
1/2 cup basil leaves, torn into small pieces

1. In a large sauté pan, cook the bacon over medium-high heat until it browns and renders most of its fat; add the olive oil if necessary to make 2 tablespoons of fat.
2. Add the corn and tomatoes and sauté briefly until the corn turns bright yellow and is crisp-tender. Stir in the basil and salt and pepper to taste. Pour the mixture into a bowl and cover loosely with foil.
3. Wipe the sauté pan with a paper towel, heat over high heat, and put in the vegetable oil. Season the fillets generously with the salt and pepper and place in the pan, skin side up. Sear them for 3 minutes, reduce the heat to medium, and carefully turn them over. Continue to cook until they are medium rare, about 3 minutes depending on thickness. Carefully place the fillets on dinner plates, top with the corn sauté, and serve.

Adapted from The Farm to Table Cookbook: The Art of Eating Locally [Sasquatch Books, 2008].

Sexy Chili? Meet The Cincinatti 3-Way.

2009-08-17T10:05:00.000-07:00

photo copyright Gregor Torrence 2009
Ahoy Foodies!

We had a cold snap recently, which is odd for August. While the rain was gushing down the window panes and the day turned from summer to blustery October in an instant, I started thinking about comfort food. So I turned to Mr. Tofu and asked him with a wicked smile if he would like a 3, 4 or even 5-way.

He was quite startled, until I explained to him that I was talkin' chili. He had no idea what Cincinnati chili was. Since he wasn't fortunate enough to be born in the Midwest, I explained Cincinnati chili's wonderfulness:

It starts with thick, beef chili that is flavored with the BEST CHILI POWDER IN THE UNIVERSE, Gebhardt's, plus unusual spices like cinnamon, unsweetened cocoa powder, and allspice. The resulting flavor is like tasting the best of Texas, Mykonos, and Coney Island all in one glorious, complex bite. The chili itself is nummy, but what really makes it fun is the "ways" it's served. It's always ladled over spaghetti, which makes it "one-way". Put grated cheddar on the top and it's a "two-way". Onions on top of that and you've got a "three-way" (ooh-la-la). Oyster crackers over everything and it's a "four-way". Add beans and you've arrived at a "five-way".

Aye, there's the rub. Cincinnati chili doesn't normally have beans in it, unless they are added as one of the garnishes. So when I made Cincinnati chili for Mr. Tofu, I cooked the beans in the base chili. Then I set aside some of that and simmered it in a separate pan. I added ground beef (or ground buffalo if I am feeling wild) to my portion. The two simmered at the same time and everybody was cozy, comfy, and happy, Mr. Tofu with his five-way, and me with my six-way, technically. Heck, you could add sour cream, avocado, Asian chili oil (I highly recommend this), or sardines to the top if you wanted to. If you come up with a recipe for Cincinnati chili 10-way, leave me a comment and tell me how you did it!

5 or 6-Way "Cincinnati" Chili
Serves 2 vegetarians and 4 omnivores

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 large onion, finely chopped (2 1/4 cups), divided
3 cloves garlic, minced (about 1 tablespoon)
1 to 2 tablespoons chili powder (Gebhardt's is best)
1 tablespoon ground cumin (is your cumin fresh? If you've had it forever, get a fresh batch)
1 teaspoon ground allspice
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 tablespoon unsweetened cocoa powder
2 14.5-ounce cans fire roasted tomatoes in puree (I use Muir Glen brand)
1 15-ounce can pinto beans, rinsed and drained
1 15-ounce can kidney beans, rinsed and drained
1/2 cup water
8 ounces ground beef
8 ounces spaghetti, cooked according to packet instructions
1 1/2 cups grated cheddar cheese
2 cups oyster crackers

Heat the oil in a large soup pot over medium high heat. Add the 1 1/2 cups of the onions and sauté until tender, 5 minutes. Add the garlic, chili powder, cumin, allspice, cinnamon, and cocoa powder and cook for 1 minute, stirring constantly. Turn off the heat and add the tomatoes, beans, and water; stir to combine.

For the vegetarian, transfer 2 heaping cups of the chili to a small sauce pan. Bring to a simmer and cover.

Bring the chili in the large pot to simmer and cover. In a small non-stick pan over medium high heat, brown the ground beef, breaking it up with a spatula as it cooks. Drain meat (if necessary) and add it to the large pot.

Gently simmer both chilis, stirring occasionally, until the flavors have melded, about 45 minutes to 1 hour. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Divide pasta among 6 bowls. Top two of the bowls with vegetarian chili and the remaining bowls with beef chili. Top with chili, cheese, remaining onions, and oyster crackers.

Quick and Creamy Lasagna For Two

2009-08-11T09:34:00.000-07:00

Ahoy Foodies!

I am on a 2-week cleanse to scrub out all the comestible indecencies I put in myself while in Ireland. But don't panic! I won't bore you with the long list of things that I can't have for 2 weeks. Instead, I am sharing with you our last supper, as it were. You see, today I start the real hard slog of no-anything that tastes good. So last night I made lasagnas with a cream and leek sauce with lashings of Parmigiano Reggiano. Wicked never tasted so good.

To expedite things, I don't go the roux-plus-milk=white sauce route. Instead, I saute leeks, add cream and vegetable stock and reduce it for 5 minutes. The resulting sauce is plenty thick, especially since I layer it with Ronzoni no-boil noodles. Those no-boil lasagna sheets tend to suck up quite a bit of moisture from the sauce, so everything works out fine without fussing with a flour, butter, milk, and a whisk.

For Mr. Tofu, my vegetarian husband, I saute some wild mushrooms and layer them into his lasagna. For mine, sauteed chicken breast sprinkled with Penzey's Lemon Pepper is a nice meaty touch. The whole enterprise is surprisingly easy to assemble, but the results taste like you spent hours. Try it and let me know what you think. It will be grand to read about real food as I'm wasting away on brown rice and lightly sauteed vegetables. I promise the next post will be witty and clever. I had no idea how much caffeine was responsible for me ability to writes (sic)...

Quick and Creamy Lasagnas for Two

3 tablespoons olive oil
3 ounces wild mushrooms (I used cardoncello), chopped (about 1 cup)
2 medium leeks, white and pale green parts only, thinly sliced and rinsed well
4 teaspoons fresh thyme leaves
1 cup heavy cream
1 cup mild vegetable or mushroom stock
Salt
1/8 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
6 ounces chicken breast, thinly sliced
1/4 teaspoon lemon pepper
6 Ronzoni "oven-ready" lasagna noodles
1/2 ricotta cheese
1/2 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Heat 1 tablespoon of the oil in a medium saute pan over medium high heat. Add the mushrooms and cook without stirring for 1 minute. Add 2 teaspoons of thyme, stir, and continue to cook until mushrooms are browned and have given off their liquid, about 3 minutes. Scrape mushrooms out into a small bowl and set aside.

Return pan to stove. Heat 1 tablespoon of oil over medium heat. Add the leeks and saute, without allowing them to brown, until they are limp, about 4 minutes. Add the cream and stock and bring to a simmer. Cook until reduced slightly, 5 minutes. Add nutmeg and season sparingly with salt (keep in mind the Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese will add salt, too).

While the sauce is reducing, prepare the chicken. Toss meat with lemon pepper and a pinch of salt. Heat remaining tablespoon of oil in a small nonstick pan over medium-high heat. Add chicken and saute, without stirring, until browned on 1 side, about 3 minutes. Turn with tongs and turn off heat.

Break lasagna sheets so they fit into 2 small oven-proof dishes. (It's okay if some break into smaller shards, you can still use them to fill in any odd spaces.) Ladle 3 to 4 tablespoons of the cream sauce into the dishes. Top with a pasta sheet, more sauce, half of the mushrooms or chicken, the ricotta, and a sprinkle of Parmigiano-Reggiano. Repeat with another pasta sheet, sauce and Parm cheese. Then place the last sheets of pasta on top, finish with the remaining cream sauce, mushrooms or chicken and Parm cheese. Place on a cookie sheet and bake until bubbly around edges, 45 minutes.

Chilaquiles With Eggs, Or Not

2009-07-27T10:16:00.000-07:00

Ahoy Foodies!

I'm back from a faboo 2 week "beverage research" trip in Ireland and am happy to return to the stove. In the next few weeks, I'll post some recipes inspired by my trip, I promise.

This week, I am part of a new frontier in blogging called a Virtual Potluck. The lovely Miss Tara Mataraza Desmond (of Crumbs On My Keyboard) asked some other top notch bloggers to cook and blog about meals from her very clever book, Almost Meatless- 60 + Recipes That Are Better For You And The Planet (Ten Speed Press, 2009) . Perfect fodder for some mixed-diet cooking, don't you think? Go to her blog for links to the other bloggers' potluck posts, it should be quite interesting to see all of them. photo copyright Gregor Torrence, 2009

Ever since we got back stateside, Mr. Tofu and I have been craving Mexican food like nobody's business. So, I chose Tara's recipe for chilaquiles topped with eggs to share with you this week. Chilaquiles are an ingenious way to use up leftover stale corn tortillas; simply fry them in a bit of oil, dunk them something like Rick Bayless' Guajillo chile sauce, and layer with cheese, chicken, eggs, or whatever else you have on hand. Tara's recipe streamlines the sauce, so instead of the hours soaking dried chilies and simmering you would normally spend on this rustic dish, she whizzes everything in a blender and simmers the sauce just 15 minutes. Smart. Very smart.

The recipe calls for you to top off the stacks of saucy tortillas with scrambled, poached, or fried eggs. While that works for my egg-loving vegetarian husband, I myself don't like eggs so much, especially after seeing the sorry overcooked excuses for eggs set out in the hotels' breakfast buffets in Ireland. Blech. So in a funny twist to the mixed-diet cooking thing, my portion had a substitution-- slices of ripe avocado instead of egg. If you're cooking for a vegan, you can go that route and substitute vegan sour cream for the crema and leave out the cheese in their portion, too.

I must admit that the sauce wasn't quite spicy enough for us. That's probably because we're starved for spicy food, though. We found that lashings of our favorite hot sauce, Valentina black label, rounded out this delicious meal famously.

Chilaquiles
Traditional recipes for chilaquiles call for a mélange of ingredients simmered with dried and fried tortillas in red or green sauce. this version employs the same flavors in a different presentation. Eggs any style—poached, fried, sunny-side up, or scrambled—top off the crisp tortillas painted with deep red sauce. A drizzle of Mexican crema (or a dollop of sour cream) and a crumble of queso fresco round out the stacks for a delicious breakfast, brunch, lunch, or dinner. Feel free to toast the tortillas in a 375°F oven for 10 to 15 minutes if you’d rather not fry them.

Serves 4
Red sauce
1 (28-ounce) can whole peeled tomatoes, drained
1 medium jalapeño, seeded and coarsely chopped
1 small shallot, coarsely chopped
2 medium cloves garlic, coarsely chopped
1 tablespoon butter
11/2 cups dried black beans, cooked, or 1 (15-ounce) can, drained and rinsed

Chilaquiles
1 cup vegetable oil
8 (6-inch) corn tortillas
salt
4 to 8 eggs
1 cup crumbled queso fresco or Cotija cheese
1/2 cup crema or sour cream

To make the sauce, put the tomatoes, jalapeño, shallot, and garlic in a blender and process until smooth. Heat the butter in a sauté pan over medium heat. Pour the blended mixture into the pan, stir in the black beans, and simmer the sauce for 15 minutes.

To prepare the chilaquiles, heat the oil to 350°F in a deep pot or dutch oven. Gently lower one or two tortillas into the hot oil with a pair of metal tongs and fry for about 1 minute on each side, until golden. Remove from the oil and transfer to a cooling rack lined with paper towels. Sprinkle with salt. Repeat with the remaining tortillas.
Prepare the eggs to order for each serving (see headnote above). Place a tortilla on a plate, ladle about 1/4 cup of the sauce on top, sprinkle with cheese, and add a dollop of crema. Stack a second tortilla on top of that layer, creating another in the same manner. Top with an egg and serve.

tip No deep fry thermometer? You can determine the temperature of the oil by sticking the handle of a wooden spoon in the hot oil. If it’s at just the right frying temperature, a steady stream of bubbles will come up from the handle. If it’s not quite hot enough, just a few tiny bubbles will appear, whereas if the oil is too hot, it will spurt and sputter around the spoon.
(Reprinted with permission from Ten Speed Press and the authors)

Green Bean, Pesto, and Sometimes Chorizo Pasta

2009-07-10T09:39:00.000-07:00

Ahoy Foodies!

When I first met Mr. Tofu, his instant messenger handle was "pestophile." I thought that was very charming, I even mistook it to mean that he was a foodie. That wasn't exactly the case, but the fine and callow fellow does indeed love pesto. Thus, I am always looking for new ways to cook with it.

So this week, I give you a pesto pasta recipe that also uses the beautiful little French haricot verts (thin green beans) that my garden is just starting to bare. They are much more tender than those woody green beans you find in supermarkets out of season and they have a great green taste that matches nicely with pesto. You'll find them in my garden (help yourself), or at farmer's markets.

Mr. Tofu is happy as a clam with this simple "green-on-green" pasta dish all by itself. As an omnivore cooking for a vegetarian, I find the pasta is improved quite a bit so with the addition of sizzling slices of garlicky chorizo. As so very many things are.

The chorizo in question is hard, salami-like, Spanish chorizo, not the soft squishy Mexican variety. You can find it at good cheese and charcuterie shops and even at some grocery stores where the fancy cheeses live. Thinly sliced and crisped in a saute´pan, chorizo is much more than an antipasto component, it's pork-alicious.

One more note. Since this dish is really simple, it requires that all of the ingredients be really top notch. I buy Bionaturae farfelle pasta, real Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese (and grate it myself), and I make my own pesto. If you're in a rush, you can certainly buy good quality pre-made pesto, but I won't guarantee that your pestophile won't turn his or her nose up at it. If you are cooking for a vegan, omit the cheese from the pesto and toss it in with the omnivore's portion of pasta right before serving.

Green Bean, Pesto, and Sometimes Chorizo Pasta
Serves 1 really hungry omnivore and 1 vegetarian, or 4 normal appetites

2 cups basil leaves, loosely packed
1 pinch sea salt
1 teaspoon lemon juice
1 medium garlic clove, center green sprout removed (if present)
1/4 cup toasted pinenuts or walnuts
6 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1/2 cup grated Parmingiano-Reggiano
Salt and pepper
8 ounces organic farfelle pasta
8 ounces organic haricot verts, trimmed
1 ounce sliced Spanish chorizo

In a blender or food processor, combine the basil, salt, lemon juice, garlic, and pine nuts. With the blender running, add the olive oil and blend or process until smooth. Stir in the cheese and season with salt and pepper to taste. Set aside 1/3 cup for the pasta. (The remaining pesto can be frozen for up to 2 months.)

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add the pasta and boil for 3 minutes. Add the green beans and boil until pasta is tender, 5 more minutes. While the pasta and beans are cooking, fry the chorizo in a small non-stick skillet over medium-high heat until sizzling and crisped on edges, about 2 minutes. Take off heat and set aside.

Drain the pasta and beans in a colander. Transfer to a large bowl and toss with the pesto.

Vegetarian: Transfer one half of the pasta mixture to a bowl.

Toss the warmed chorizo with the remaining pasta and serve.

I married a vegetarian, but I love shrimp etouffee, and I always will.

2009-07-01T18:02:00.000-07:00

Ahoy Foodies!

You know you're in the South when you pull into a cruddy chain-type restaurant with an alligator mascot on the sign at 11p.m. and get a life-alteringly good bowl of shrimp etouffee. The lobby at said eatery was decorated with wagon wheels and rusty buckets, the booths were blue vinyl, and the menu included something called "gator chunks." But dang, that etouffee was amazing. I ate every bite and ordered pecan pie to show my appreciation. Too bad I've since forgotten the name of the place. I think it's in Slidell, near the K-Mart.

It's precisely such lovely surprises that made me fall in love with Louisiana and the cooking. Around every corner, in the most unlikely dives, at all hours of the day and night you can get rich, spicy dishes like etouffee, shrimp'n'grits, and andouille sausages. And all of it makes my knees weak.

Etouffee (eh-too-fay) means "smothered" in French, as in covered in rich tomato gravy. Etouffee, as with many dishes of Cajun origin, gets its deep, dark flavor from a brown roux. The only way to get this brown roux is to melt butter, add flour and stir. And stir. And stir. We're talking 30 minutes or more. While stirring my roux, I take the opportunity to sip a cocktail made with Bulleit Bourbon. Or I page through an old Junior League cookbook. Either way, I am having fun, so it's 30 minutes well spent.

Just because the dish usually calls for shrimp or crawdad tails doesn't mean my husband (who I affectionately refer to as Mr. Tofu) can't enjoy etouffee too. I simply make the sauce with vegetable stock instead of shellfish stock. Then I take about 1 1/2 cups out of the pot, put it in a small pan, add firm tofu or Quorn chunks and simmer that separately. I add shrimp to my portion in the pot and we're both quite content. If you're cooking for a vegan, just use vegetable or peanut oil instead of butter for the roux.

Just because I married a vegetarian doesn't mean I have to give up etouffee. Thank God. Laissez le bon temps rouler, eh?

Etouffe for Everyone
Serves 3 omnivores, 1 vegetarian or vegan

1/2 cup butter
1/4 cup all purpose flour
2 cups chopped onion
1/2 cup chopped green bell pepper
1/2 cup chopped red bell pepper
3/4 cup finely chopped celery
1 heaping tablespoon minced garlic
1 tablespoon chopped fresh thyme
2 tablespoons tomato paste
2 cups vegetable stock
Salt, cayenne, and black pepper
1/2 heaping cup Quorn Chik'n tenders
1 pound shrimp, peeled and deveined
Steamed rice or grits, for serving

Melt the butter in a large heavy bottomed pot over medium heat. Add the flour and cook, reduce heat to medium-low and cook, whisking nearly constantly until the roux is deep brown. Think dark wood paneling circa 1970. This should take 30 minutes or so. May I recommend this recipe for a sazerac cocktail from nolafoodie.com? That will keep you content while you stir.

Add the vegetables and saute until the onion is translucent, 8 minutes. Add the garlic and saute 45 seconds. Add the thyme, tomato paste, and stock. Bring to a simmer over medium heat and cook for 20 minutes.

Vegetarian: Use a ladle to transfer 1 1/2 cups of the vegetable-roux mixture to a small saucepan. Add the Quorn or tofu, stir gently to combine. Simmer over medium heat.

Put the shrimp in the remaining vegetable-roux mixture in first pot. Simmer over medium heat until the shrimp have curled and turned pink, 5 minutes. Season both etouffees with salt, cayenne, and pepper to taste. Serve with rice or grits. Comment often. It gets lonely in blogland.

Mussaman Curry With Chicken or Tofu

2009-06-24T10:02:00.001-07:00

photography by Gregor Torrence copyright 2009

Ahoy Foodies!

I feel like a bit of a cheat this week. Normally when I cook Thai food, I haul out my heavy mortar and pestle and make my own curry paste using one of the recipes I learned in Thailand. In fact, making curry usually means I visit about 3 different markets to procure the keffir limes, the galangal, good-looking lemongrass, the "right" kind of dried red chilies, etc. And I am happy as a clam while I'm rushing about procuring and pestling.

This week, I am gearing up to teach a rather involved Thai seafood cooking class at In Good Taste Cooking School on Saturday, so when Mr. Tofu asked me to make Massaman Curry, I went straight to the can. Not the W.C., no. To a can of curry paste. Normally I don't use canned curry, but in a pinch, it can be quite good, especially on a weeknight. I use Maesri brand curry paste, you'll know it by the tiny little picture of an old lady on the can. She's there to tell you that the product is wholesome and trustworthy, I gather. Sort of a Thai version of Betty Crocker or Mrs. Butterworth. Brilliant marketing that.

Massaman is a Thai transliteration of the word Muslim. While Thai people are largely Buddhist, there are 6 million Muslim Thai and Persian culinary influences on Thai cuisine are most noticeable in the cooking of southern part of Thailand near the Malaysian border. The combination of cardamom, cloves, cinnamon, coriander, and cumin go particularly well with potatoes, carrots, and peas. I use the thicker, creamier coconut cream in this recipe to up the comfort food quotient, but regular coconut milk will do, too.

Though I've seen Massaman curries in Thailand that include beef, pork, fish and even duck with pineapple, I prefer chicken. I don't have to tell you that Mr. Tofu likes tofu in his, do I?

Massaman Curry with Chicken or Tofu
Serves 4

2 2/3 cup coconut cream
1 can Maesri Masaman Curry Paste
3/4 pound fingerling potatoes, scrubbed and cut into bite-sized chunks
1 medium onion, cut into 1-inch wedges through the root end
4 carrots, peeled and cut into bite sized chunks
1 large boneless, skinless chicken breast, cut into bite size pieces
6 ounces firm Thai-flavored baked tofu (I like Wildwood brand)
1 cup fresh shelled peas, or frozen edamame, defrosted
1 teaspoon tamarind concentrate (optional)
1/2 cup roasted peanuts, roughly chopped
Steamed jasmine rice

Spoon 3 tablespoons of the thick cream off the top of the can of coconut milk and add it to a wok or medium saute pan. Cook over medium-high heat until the cream has melted and is liquid. Add the curry paste and cook, stirring constantly with a wok spatula, until the paste is fragrant, 1 minute. Add the remaining coconut milk, potatoes, onion, and carrots and bring to a simmer. Reduce heat, cover, and cook until the potatoes are just tender, about 20 minutes.

Vegetarian: Transfer 1 1/2 heaping cups of the sauce and vegetables to a small saucepan. Add the tofu and bring to a simmer over medium heat. Cover.

Add the chicken to the remaining curry-vegetable mixture in the wok or saute pan, stir gently to combine, cover and simmer until the chicken is just cooked through, 8 minutes. Add 3/4 of the peas, 3/4 teaspoon of the optional tamarind concentrate, and 3/4 of the peanuts to the saute pan, stir to combine and cook for 3 minutes.
Vegetarian: Add the remaining peas, optional tamarind concentrate, and peanuts to the small saucepan and cook for 3 minutes, or until the peas are just cooked.

Serve curries with steamed jasmine rice.
Note: Cut the chicken up on a separate cutting board with a separate knife. Use two different spoons to stir the curries.

Think twice about kohrabi, it's good. No really.

2009-06-12T15:41:00.001-07:00

photo: copyright Gregor Torrence, 2009

Ahoy Foodies!

Check out my favorite recipe for kohlrabi, excerpted from my book, The Farm to Table Cookbook: The Art of Eating Locally (Sasquatch 2008) on Culinate.com! It really is delish.

Pan Bagnat for Vegetarians and Omnivores

2009-06-10T16:47:00.000-07:00

Ahoy Foodies!

My life, like yours, is probably punctuated by vivid memories not of everyday events like walking the dog or mowing the lawn, but situations that are odd, or happen somewhere other than home. I recently had a one of those vivid re-memories while opening a can of tuna.

It's early September, and I'm on vacation with my mother. We've stopped in Grasse, a town in southern France. I have purchased pan bagnat from a street vendor and then we walked about a mile uphill to a lovely park to sit down and eat. And then we got in one helluva fight.

Pan bagnat, literally "bathed bread", is a huge roll stuffed with tuna, tomatoes, eggs, olives, green beans, and lettuce-- a veritable Nicoise salad on a roll. It's doused in either vinaigrette or aioli, or both. And as the name suggests, it's wet, messy and oh-so-good. But when I bought the sandwiches, I neglected to grab napkins. And though I was reveling in my messy sandwich, my rather particular mother wouldn't touch hers. She looked on in horror as tomato-tuna juice driped into my lap. You see, she's a died in the wool neat-freak: a separate plate for everything, extra napkins, etc., and getting tuna juice down the front of one's frock is a Mom-o no-no. So she made me walk the mile down the hill to get her a napkin. And boy was I mad.

I have to laugh now, because it was so her to demand a napkin and so me to just wipe my hands on my skirt. This recipe is in homage to that fine sandwich interuptus. I make one sans tuna with extra egg on it for my vegetarian husband. The other is loaded with canned Albacore tuna. The mayonnaise is based on Kewpie mayo, the ciabatta rolls are from my favorite grocery store/bakery: New Seasons. I use pickled green beans that my mother-in-law makes, I will post the recipe as soon as I can rustle it out her. I love Rick's Picks pickled green beans, you can get those at Foster & Dobbs gourmet grocery if you live in Portland, or online.

Go ahead and try pan bagnat yourself, but maybe bust out a couple of extra napkins for the tidy eaters in your family to avoid any fights. Let me know what you think!

Pan Bagnat for Vegetarians and Omnivores

3 large eggs
2/3 cup Kewpie Mayonnaise
1/2 teaspoon minced garlic
2 heaping tablespoons pitted kalamata olives, roughly chopped
2 teaspoons lemon juice
4 ciabatta rolls, halved lengthwise
1 cup shaved fennel bulb
1 large heirloom tomato (I used Black Krim)
24 pickled green beans
Two 6-ounce cans solid Albacore tuna, drained
1 cup baby lettuce leaves

Bring a small saucepan of water to a boil. Gently lower the eggs into the water, start a timer and reduce heat to a simmer. Cook the eggs for 8 1/2 minutes. Transfer eggs to an ice bath. Once cool to the touch, peel the eggs and cut into thick slices using a cheese knife.

In a small bowl, combine the mayonnaise, olives, garlic, and lemon juice. Spread liberally in the rolls. Lay the tomatoes, green beans, and fennel down on the bottom half of the rolls.

Vegetarian: Distribute about 5 slices of egg on one of the sandwiches. Top with lettuce and set aside on a plate.

Top the remaining sandwiches with the tuna and remaining lettuce. Serve.

Rice is Nice, Especially Biryani

2009-05-26T17:37:00.000-07:00

Ahoy Foodies!

If you know me, or if you read my writing, you'll know that I have a bad case of the "I'll have what they're having" syndrome. It goes like this: I am in a restaurant that serves food from faraway lands. I order my food, sometimes going outside of my comfort zone, sometimes not. Then a waiter whisks by with a steaming platter of a whole fish, bowl of mysterious soup, or tantalizing plate of something I've never seen before. And it goes to a table of folks who obviously are from a faraway land. And they are obviously enjoying a secret item that is not on the menu. And suddenly the thing I have on my plate doesn't look so good.

We've all had that happen, right? A few years ago I had that experience in an Indian restaurant in S.F. I was tucking into a spicy vindaloo and sweating just a little bit, as it should be. And then a huge steaming platter of brilliantly hued yellow rice with all sorts of bits of goat went sailing by to a table in the back where the cooks and waiters of the establishment sat enjoying a mid-shift meal. "What is THAT?" I asked. The waiter smiled a knowing smile and said, "biryani." As if I knew what that was.

Years passed, and only after Leena Ezekiel, a caterer from Assam, India, befriended me and patiently answered all of my many questions about Indian cooking, did I learn what this magical dish really is. Many might look at the ingredients list here and say "oh, it's just pilaf". And they would be wrong. This is one of those magic recipes where simple ingredients like basmati rice, vegetables, meat and whole spices are made into something much much more regal than a sum of their parts.
Though the dish is usually made by layering rice with spiced meat, I make it with roasted vegetables, in the interest of making Mr. Tofu happy. For the carnivore in me, I whip up some chicken skewers and have it with that. Both recipes follow. Heh foodies? If you read this, will you please post a comment? It gets lonely in blogland...
Namaste!

Saffron and Vegetable Biryani with Ginger Chicken Skewers
Serves 4

1/2 teaspoon saffron threads
1 cup basmati rice
2 large carrots cut into 2-inch long by 1/2-inch thick sticks
1 1/2 cups cauliflower florets (1/2 inch florets)
1 small red pepper, cut into 2-inch long strips
2 tablespoons vegetable oil, divided
1 teaspoon salt, divided
1 1/2 teaspoons fresh garam masala or curry powder
1 1/2 cups finely chopped onion
2 cloves
4 whole green cardamom seeds
1 teaspoon cumin seeds
2 cups boiling water
1 tablespoon butter
1/4 cup toasted cashews
1/4 cup raisins

Place a heavy rimmed baking sheet in the oven and preheat the oven to 400 º F. In a small measuring cup, combine 1 tablespoon of very hot tap water with the saffron, set aside. Put the rice in a large bowl and add enough cool water to cover by 2 inches. Swirl with your hand and drain. Repeat with 2 more changes of water to rinse away excess starch, the water will no longer be cloudy. Drain rice and add enough cool water to cover the rice by a few inches. Allow rice to soak for 30 minutes.

While the rice is soaking, roast the vegetables. Toss the carrots, peppers, cauliflower, 1 tablespoon of the oil, 1/2 teaspoon of the salt, and the garam masala together in a large bowl. Carefully spread vegetables evenly on the preheated baking sheet. Roast until vegetables are tender and browned, about 30 minutes. Remove from oven and set aside.

Drain the rice in a fine-mesh sieve. Heat the remaining tablespoon of oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the onions and sauté, stirring frequently, until brown, about 10 minutes. Add the cloves, cardamom, and cumin and cook, stirring constantly, until the spices smell toasty, 1 minute. Add the drained rice and stir to coat with onion and spices. Stir in the saffron and its soaking liquid, boiling water, and remaining 1/2 teaspoon of salt. Bring to a simmer, lower heat to medium low, and cook uncovered, until the rice is tender and the liquid has been absorbed, about 15 minutes.

While the rice is cooking, heat the butter in a small skillet over medium high heat. Add the raisins and cashews and sauté until nuts are fragrant, 1 minute. Remove from heat.

Gently fold the roasted vegetables into the rice. Sprinkle nuts and raisins over top of dish and serve with following recipe for chicken.

Ginger Chicken Skewers
Serves 3 carnivores

1 tablespoon minced ginger
1 tablespoon minced garlic
1 teaspoon New Mexican chili powder (not seasoning for chili con carne)
1 pinch salt
1 pound boneless, skinless chicken breasts
Bamboo skewers, soaked in cold water for several hours

Pound the ginger, garlic, chili pepper, and salt in a small mortar and pestle to a fine paste, or vigorously chop the ingredients, smashing them against a cutting board with the side of a chef's knife. Cut the chicken into thin 3-inch strips and combine with the ginger paste in a sealable plastic bag. Marinate at least 1 hour but preferably overnight.
Preheat a grill or broiler over high heat. Spray a rimmed baking sheet with nonstick cooking spray. Thread the chicken onto skewers without overcrowding and allow them stand at room temperature for 30 minutes. Broil or grill the skewers until cooked through, about 4 minutes per side. Serve immediately with biryani.

Looking Down the Barrel of Some Smoking Greens

2009-05-20T16:43:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the title-pun. I'm feeling punny these days thanks to the quixotic weather and the tantalizing stuff I've been lugging home from the farmers' market. This week I picked up a couple of kohlrabi, 2 bunches of meaty collard greens, some beets, and strawberries.

The strawberries didn't make it home, I ate the on the way home from the market of course. As for the kohlrabi, well they went into a slaw recipe that's in my Farm To Table Cookbook. I got the recipe from the dear chef of The Farm Café, Fern Smith. Kohlrabi Salad With Pea Shoots is so ding-dang good in fact, that I lent the recipe to the lovely Molly Wizenberg of Orangette and she featured it on her award winning blog, Orangette. Thanks, Molly.

The bulbs of the kohlrabi were great, but their big, deep green leaves were even better. You see, I live for braised greens, it's a yearning in my soul. I eat them weekly, and I'm not picky about what vegetable the greens come from. Now, I know what you're thinking. "What's a yankee girl from Sheboygan, Wisconsin doing saying she lives for collards?" And you're right, partially. I don't think I ever had them until I visited New Orleans, where I had them served alongside boiled crawdads and an icy cold PBR. The combination of their iron-rich hearty flavor and meaty chewiness did me in. I didn't know what I had been missing and I've been making up for lost time ever since.

I have since asked every Southerner I meet how they cook their greens, and how their momma cooked greens, and how their grandmothers cooked greens and so on. I've tested recipes six ways to Sunday and the ones I like best are cooked with sautéed onion, a bit of vinegar, and much to the chagrin of my husband Mr. Tofu, bacon, smoked pork hock or neck bones. The extra oompf of smoky meat makes a mess of greens all the better.

But Mr. Tofu is always left out. Which usually means I have to make him a separate vegetable dish, which is a pain. So this time, I made the greens with smoked salt instead of smoked meat. I used artisan smoked salt, a coarse sea salt that was traditionally smoked by Salish Native Americans over alder wood. It lends an earthy smoke flavor to everything it touches, meat or no.

They were a lovely batch of greens, I must say. Smoky, slightly salty, and melt in your mouth tender, just like I like them. Of course, I did cook a few slices of smoked bacon in the microwave and added it to the pot after I set aside some veggie greens for Mr. Tofu because as my buddy Justin Esch says, "Everything tastes better with bacon."

Smoky Greens with Yankee Cornbread
Serves 6

Yankee Cornbread:
1 cup fine cornmeal
1 cup all-purpose flour
⅓ cup sugar
1 tablespoons baking powder
⅓ teaspoon salt
¾ cup milk
½ cup sour cream or plain yogurt
2 eggs
6 tablespoons melted butter, cooled slightly

Greens:
2 large bunches of greens—collards, kohlrabi, beet, mustard, chard
2 tablespoons of mild olive oil
1 1/2 cups finely chopped onion
1 large clove garlic, chopped
3 cups water
1 tablespoons apple cider or white wine vinegar
2 pinches sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons smoked salt, plus more to taste
Hot sauce, to taste
3 strips smoked bacon

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 9-inch-square baking pan with nonstick cooking spray or melted butter. Whisk the dry ingredients together in a large bowl until well combined.
2. In another bowl, whisk the milk, sour cream, eggs, and melted butter together until blended. Add the wet ingredients to the dry ingredients and stir with a wooden spoon until just blended. Spread the mixture into prepared pan. Bake for 40 minutes, or until the edges are golden brown and a knife inserted in the center comes out clean.
3. While the cornbread bakes, prepare the greens. Wash the greens in a sink full of cool water. Tear the leaves away from their tough ribs in the center of each leaf. Compost the tough ribs. Stack the leaves into manageable piles, roll them up tightly, and thinly slice into a chiffonade with a chef's knife. Put in a colander to drain further.
4. Heat the oil in a large pot over medium-high heat. Add the onion and cook until translucent, 4 minutes. Add the garlic and cook until fragrant, 30 seconds. Add the greens, water, vinegar, sugar, and smoked salt. Bring to a simmer, cover, and cook until tender, 30 minutes. Season with hot sauce and additional smoked salt to taste. Keep warm over low heat.
5. Place the bacon on a dinner plate, cover with a paper towel and microwave until the bacon is crispy, about 2 1/2 minutes. Chop the bacon and return it to the plate with any of its accumulated fat.
6. Vegetarian: Transfer about 1/6 th of the greens and "pot liquor" (cooking liquid) to a serving bowl, cover and keep warm. (If you are serving more than 1 vegetarian, set aside more greens.)
7. Add the bacon and bacon fat to the pot with the remaining greens and bring to a boil. Cook for 1 minute. Serve both batches of greens with the warm cornbread.

Ma Haw (Thai Minced Pork and Shrimp Relish)

2009-05-10T10:35:00.000-07:00

I am proud to announce that I am a guest writer on Rasa Malaysia this week. Rasa Malaysia is a beautiful blog/website dedicated to my favorite things: Southeast Asian food, travel and above all food porn of the Donna Hay/Delicious Magazine variety. Check out her site and my recipe for Ma Haw (Thai Minced Pork and Shrimp Relish) and leave a comment!

Pasta and Meatballs or Eatballs

2009-05-05T10:33:00.001-07:00

Ahoy Foodies!

There are days when the water never stops pouring from the sky and the idea of sloshing out to the grocery store sends shivers through my cardigan-wearing self. That is always when I badly need a familiar casseroley-type dish for dinner, but going out to the market to get ingredients for said meal is just too much to ask. Not when it's raining sideways. So last night, I took the lead of every recession/depression era wife before me and I opened the cupboard (and freezer) and peered deep within to find the makings of a meal.

Of course, I found the omnipresent box of short pasta twists and a jar of Amy's Family Marinara. Next, I dug into our pullout freezer drawer (which is the dumbest refrigerator design ever, by the way) and found a wad of Italian pork sausage sealed in a ziplock from god-knows-when. So I thought "meatballs, that's what I need!" and since sausage is as good as ground pork and beef, it was going to be a pasta 'n' meatballs night.

But what would Mr. Tofu have? There was a package of Morning Star breakfast sausage patties in the freezer. But breakfast patties on pasta? That didn't sound so good. I set aside the patties and decided to figure out something for him later. I made my Italian pork sausage meatballs with a bit of egg, homemade breadcrumbs, cheese, parsley, and a little ketchup. Lovely.

But as long as I was improvising, why not use the veggie sausage patties in the same way? I crumbled them and mixed them up with the same ingredients as the meatballs. And you know what? They were good. Not "proudly serve these to your Sicilian grandmother- good", but since my grandmother is Polish and she wasn't coming to dinner anyway, it wasn't a problem. My vegetarian loved his "eatballs," as he called them, I got my meatball fix, the freezer and pantry are now a tiny bit roomier, and I didn't have to go out in the spring storm. Good deal. Good meal.

Meatballs and Eatballs with Penne
Serves 4

For the Meatballs/Eatballs:
2/3 cup fresh breadcrumbs
2 tablespoons plain yogurt or milk
6 ounces bulk Italian sausage
4 1/2 ounces Morningstar vegetarian breakfast sausage patties (4 small disc shaped patties), crumbled
2 tablespoons ketchup
5 tablespoons grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese
1 beaten egg
3 tablespoons minced parsley
3 pinches Italian seasoning (I like Penzey's Spices)
A few grinds of black pepper
2 tablespoons olive oil

For the Pasta Bake:
8 ounces fusili or penne pasta
2 1/2 cups Amy's Family Marinara
6 ounces fresh mozzarella (about 1 ball), torn into small pieces

Combine the breadcrumbs and yogurt in a small bowl. Stir to combine and let sit for 10 minutes.
Place the Italian sausage in a medium mixing bowl. Add half of the breadcrumb mixture, 1 tablespoon of the ketchup, 3 tablespoons of the cheese, half of the egg, half of the parsley, 1 pinch of the Italian seasoning and a few grinds of pepper. Squish with your hands until well combined. Form mixture into unshelled walnut-size balls, place on a dinner plate, and set aside. You should have about 10.
Wash hands thoroughly. In another medium bowl, combine the crumbled vegetarian sausage patties and the remaining breadcrumb mixture, 1 tablespoon ketchup, 2 tablespoons cheese, remaining egg, parsley, 2 pinches Italian seasoning, and a few grinds of pepper. Squish with hands to combine and form into "eatballs" that are slightly smaller than the meatballs; you should have about 10.
Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil while cooking meatballs. Heat 1 tablespoon of oil in a small non-stick skillet over medium heat. When the oil is hot, add the "eatballs" and cook until browned on all sides, watch carefully and reduce heat if they begin to burn. Place "eatballs" on a small plate.
Return skillet to medium heat, add remaining tablespoon of oil. When the oil is hot, add the meatballs and cook until they are browned on all sides and cooked through, about 10 minutes.
Cook the pasta until al dente, drain. Heat marinara in a microwave-save measuring cup or bowl until hot. Divide the pasta among 4 oven-save baking dishes and top with the tomato sauce.
Preheat the broiler. Divide the meatballs among 2 baking dishes, nestling them into the sauce and pasta. Top with half of the cheese and place on the left side of a baking sheet. Nestle the "eatballs" in the remaining baking dishes in the same way, top with remaining cheese and place on the ride side of the baking sheet. Broil until the cheese is melted and bubbly.

Hazelnut Cocoa Oatmeal

2009-04-10T11:28:00.001-07:00

Ahoy Foodies!

Will the wicked winds and icy raindrops ever cease? The slow arrival of spring is particularly painful for me because we recently adopted a new dog, a retired racing greyhound named Mini. Or should I say, Princess Mini? Princess wakes early, like any monarch should, and whines until she is fed, walked, and duly petted. So lately, I have been looking for breakfasts that will warm me up after our early morning jaunts through the wind and rain. Oh the dreadful wind and rain.

Thus, I lugged out the O-L-D Crockpot my mother-in-law gave me and have been making over-night oatmeal. Mix oatmeal, water, a little brown sugar, cinnamon and a pinch of salt in an old slow cooker, plug it in right before bed and a healthy hot breakfast will be waiting when you get back from morning walkies. How virtuous, eh?

But I have a confession to make. I think eating plain oatmeal is as about as exciting as going for walks at 7 a.m. in the rain. So, this morning I decided to jazz my oatmeal up a bit. I peered into my overstuffed cupboard and low and behold, an enticing can of Ghirardelli's hazelnut hot cocoa mix was looking me square in the eye. Hmmm....oatmeal+sugary hot cocoa mix. It's not as eye-crossingly sweet as Count Chocula, but man, it hits the spot early in the morning. And the heart-healthy fiber in the oatmeal and protein in the triticale (a rye-oat hybrid available from Bob's Red Mill) makes me feel like one of those "early bird gets the worm/my body is my temple-types". So it's a win-win.

One note of caution: the old harvest brown Crockpots of days of yore run much cooler than the new fangled stainless steel slow cookers out there. Blame it on our litigious society, but most companies have changed their temperature ranges in the interest of "food safety." I tried this recipe on the low setting of a new slow cooker, only to find a smoking black shell of goop the next morning. I recommend either cooking oatmeal overnight in an old Crockpot, or cooking it in a new model slow cooker on low for only a few hours. Get to know your cooker before you cook anything unattended.

Coco Triticale-Oatmeal
Serves many

Nonstick cooking spray
2 cups thick cut oats
1 cup triticale flakes
8 cups water
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 cup milk or plain soy milk
1/4 cup Ghirardelli's Chocolate Hazelnut Hot Cocoa mix, plus more for serving

Spray the inside of the Crockpot insert with cooking spray. Combine the oats, triticale, water, cinnamon, and vanilla in the crock, cover and switch the cooker on to "low". Cook for 7 to 8 hours, until tender. Do not lift lid until the end of cooking time. Stir in the sugar and soy milk. Add about 1/4 cup of the hot cocoa mix and stir to combine. Serve, sprinkled with additional hot cocoa mix.

Irish Lamb Stew with Guinness, My Goodness

2009-03-12T17:17:00.000-07:00

Ahoy Foodies!

Facebook has a funny way of tapping into the consciousness of a wide swath of folks. I insouciantly mentioned in my status bar that I was "Guinness Irish stew and grandma's beer and cheddar bread" and I got a slew of comments from friends and relations who were drooling over the very idea of such simple fare. Must have something to do with the upcoming holiday celebrating one Magonus Saccauts Patricius, son of an official working for the Romans in Britain in the 5th century.

Good Ol' St. Patrick was brought to Ireland as a slave by a group of marauding pirate types in 416 AD. Contrary to popular belief, he didn't exactly bring Christianity to Ireland, but he did make it much more popular. As for driving the snakes out of Ireland? Well, that's probably myth. But, he did herd sheep, so he would probably appreciate this lamb stew recipe.

My grandmother, one Helen Manning, nee Pickett, not only made a mean Irish stew, she also made an insanely easy and delicious beer and cheddar bread that goes very well with stew. No need to go out the overcrowded pubs with all the other "Irish for a day" types and drink watery green beer this Tuesday. Stay home, crack open a stout and dig into this little bite of Irish soul instead.

Helen Pickett's Cheddar Beer Bread
Makes 2 small 4x8-inch loaves or 12 muffins

3 cups all-purpose flour
3 tablespoons sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
3/4 teaspoon salt
12 ounces Harp beer
1/4 cup minced green onions
3/4 cup grated extra-sharp cheddar cheese

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Spray two 4x8-inch loaf pans or 12 muffin wells with non-stick cooking spray.

Whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt together in a large mixing bowl. Add the beer, chives, and 1/2 cup of cheddar and beat batter, always stirring in one direction, until smooth. Do NOT overbeat it.

Put the batter in the pans or muffin wells, sprinkle remaining cheese on top and bake until tops are golden brown and a skewer inserted in the center comes out clean, about 45 minutes to 1 hour for loaves, 35 minutes for muffins.

Remove bread from oven and let it cool on rack for 10 minutes before removing from pans, then allow bread to cool for at least 30 minutes more before serving; it is best when left overnight, the oniony flavors bloom with time.

Manning's Irish Pub Guinness Irish Stew
Serves 6

3 pounds boneless lamb shoulder or leg, cut into 1-inch pieces
Salt and freshly ground pepper
1 cup flour
4 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 large onion, chopped
3 medium carrots, peeled
2 cups Guinness stout
1 bay leaf
2 tablespoons minced herbs (thyme, rosemary, marjoram)
1 tablespoon tomato paste
3 cups beef or chicken stock
2 medium Yukon gold potatoes, peeled and quartered
2 tablespoons olive oil
3 parsnips, peeled and cut into 2-inch lengths
Salt and freshly ground pepper
1 to 3 tablespoons brown sugar

Heat the half of the oil in a large sauté pan over medium high heat. Working in batches, season a big handful of meat with salt and pepper and dredge it in the flour. Shake off excess flour and brown meat in sauté pan until browned on 2 sides, 7 minutes. Transfer browned meat to a large Dutch oven or pressure cooker* with tongs and continue browning remaining meat, adding oil if necessary, and adjusting heat if flour begins to burn.

Chop 1 carrot finely. Add more oil to pan, if necessary, and add the onions and chopped carrot. Saute until beginning to brown. Add 1/2 cup beer and bring to a boil, scraping up browned bits. Put mixture in pot with lamb. Add the remaining Guinness, bay leaf, herbs, tomato paste, and enough stock to cover the meat. Bring to a simmer over medium low and cover. Cook until the meat is nearly tender, about 45 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 450 º F and place a heavy-duty pan in the oven. Thickly slice the remaining carrots. Toss the carrots and parsnips with olive oil, salt, and pepper. Open the oven, add the vegetables to the hot pan in an even layer, and roast until tender and beginning to brown, 15 to 20 minutes.
Add the potatoes and roasted carrots and parsnips to the stew and simmer stew uncovered until potatoes are tender when pierced with a fork and stew has thickened, about 15 minutes.

Season the stew with salt and pepper and brown sugar, if needed.

Comfort Thy Name Is Pots De Creme

2009-03-03T12:16:00.000-08:00

Ahoy Foodies!

There are rare times in a foodie's life when the connection between their stomach and their brain does not work. Times when things are crazy, sad or stressful enough to make a foodie not want to eat. In the past few weeks, I've been there. My best friend, sister, and teacher who just happens to have been the softest, smartest dog in the world died rather suddenly. And the sadness filled me up for days.

Fortunately, grief really is cured with time, and I've started thinking about being in the kitchen again, and bit by bit I am eating again. One of the first things I thought of was soothing, smooth chocolate pot de cremes. If you've never had one, think of it as a French pudding, only much silkier and sexier than American pudding from a box. After a few weeks of not cooking at all, something about the feel of my favorite chef's knife in my hand and the methodical "clunk" of chopping chocolate was better than any therapy. The actual cooking was comforting, a balm my tired heart needed badly. And the cinnamon-tinged chocolate pots? Well, try the recipe yourself and let me know how you feel about them. I know I've stopped crying, and that's pretty good for now, considering the circumstances.

Alice B. Toklas-Manning 1997-2009
Rest in Peace

Chocolate Pots de Creme
makes 8 4-ounce portions

1 cup milk
1 cup cream
1/4 cup sugar
1 cinnamon stick
2 pinches table salt
8 ounces milk chocolate (I use Callebaut)
5 ounces bittersweet chocolate (I use Callebaut)
5 egg yolks

1. Combine the milk, cream, sugar, cinnamon stick, and salt in a heavy bottomed saucepan. Bring to a simmer over medium-high heat, stirring to make sure the milk isn't burning on the bottom of the pan. Cook until sugar has just dissolved and milk mixture is hot to the touch. Remove from heat and allow mixture to steep for 10 minutes.
2. Chop the chocolate until pieces are no larger than a pea and place in a mixing bowl with a spout. Beat the egg yolks in another bowl. Remove the cinnamon stick from the saucepan and discard. Transfer half of the milk mixture to the bowl with yolks and whisk to combine. Pour mixture back into the saucepan with the remaining milk and cook over medium low heat, stirring with a rubber spatula, until the mixture has thickened and coats the spatula, about 4 minutes. Watch carefully and do not simmer or the mixture will curdle.
3. Pour the contents of the saucepan over the chocolate and let the mixture sit for 5 minutes. Whisk until smooth and pour into 8 four-ounce ramekins. Chill until cool, about 2 hours. Cover tightly with plastic wrap and chill until cold. Serve within 3 days.

My Pantry Overfloweth

2009-01-29T15:08:00.000-08:00

My Pantry Overfloweth

Ahoy foodies!

Yesterday I was standing in front of my overflowing pantry and remarked to my husband that we didn't have anything to eat. Sure, we had lots of ingredients….storage bins full of rice , cans of beans, and every conceivable shape of pasta known to man, but what to do with all of it? Just as I said that, blammo! A can of garbanzo beans came hurtling down from the top shelf towards my head, nearly giving me a shiner. Thus I was inspired to make a this salad, which in turn was inspired by a similar salad I ordered during my college days from Paisan's in Madison, Wisconsin.

I daresay that this "nothing to eat but my cupboard is full" syndrome is common for many of us. It's not that we don't have anything to eat; it's just that we lack inspiration, time, or energy to cook what we do have. All of us should be so lucky.

But some of us are not so lucky. I'm sure you've heard about how the economic downturn has put a terrible strain on food banks across our nation. More and more folks are forced to turn to emergency food pantry networks like The Oregon Food Bank to help feed their families. I have pledged to participate in a Blog For Food program in the month of February to help raise funds to feed those of us who don't know abundance right now. Please find it in your abundant heart to click on the logo below and be sure to manually enter 'blog for food' in the tribute section of the donation form so we can track our progress. Give a lot or a little. Anything helps. If you'd like to donate actual food, please rustle up some of your non-perishable pantry items and drop them off at the pub Saraveza, 1004 N. Killingsworth St, Portland, 503-206-4252. And have a fine "oat soda" while you are there.

Garbanzo Bean Antipasti Salad
Makes 4 servings

I make some of this salad without salami so that my vegetarian husband can enjoy it, too. If you've got a similar mixed-diet situation, follow the guidelines in the instructions below. If you are a fully omnivorous family, feel free to make the whole thing with salami. If you're a vegetarian household, forgo the salami altogether. The recipe is very flexible.

One 15-ounce can garbanzo beans, rinsed and drained
3 ounces part-skim mozzarella cheese, 1/4-inch dice (3/4 cup)
1/2 cup roughly chopped jarred roasted red pepper
1/2 cup finely chopped green pepper
1/2 cup finely chopped fennel bulb
1/2 cup finely sliced red onion
2 teaspoons balsamic vinegar
1/4 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
Diced salami or summer sausage

Combine the beans, mozzarella, peppers, fennel, and onions in a serving bowl.
Combine the vinegar and Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese in a small mixing bowl. Slowly whisk the oil into the vinegar-cheese mixture. Add to the salad, season with salt and pepper and toss to combine.
Put as much as you would like to remain vegetarian in a separate bowl.
For every serving of salad that you would like to be for the omnivores, add 2 tablespoons of diced salami.

A Weakness for Designer Citrus, Instead of Shoes

2009-01-14T14:46:00.001-08:00

I paused in front of a beautiful display of Cara Cara oranges this week. The somewhat exotic citrus, sometimes called "red navel" because of their reddish-pink flesh, were a good dollar or more per pound than the less flashy navel oranges stacked next to them. Should I or shouldn't I buy them?

And then it occurred to me, some women buy designer shoes and have no shame about that. What is wrong with buying designer produce? It's better for your health than shoes that pinch and cause bunions, and besides, I was in the mood for something virtuous and green salads just aren't as appealing during these cold months. So I picked up a few and put them in my basket.

The fennel that was stacked up across the aisle was looking particularly plump and pearly, so I snapped some of that up, too. The result of my little weakness is this recipe for a crisp, fresh salad that features the lush, not-too-sweet flavor of Cara Cara oranges and the snappy yet mild flavor of very thinly cut fennel.

If you have never cut the peel and pith away from an orange, give it a try. It isn't hard, it just takes a sharp knife and a few practice cuts to get the hang of angling the knife to cut away the peel and white pith without cutting the precious fruit, as shown here.

Cara Cara Orange and Fennel Salad
Serves 4

2 Cara Cara oranges
1 small, plump fennel bulb, with leaves
2 teaspoon champagne vinegar or white wine vinegar
1 teaspoon honey
2 tablespoons mild olive oil
1 pinch fleur de sel
2 grinds black pepper

Zest 1 of the oranges over a mixing bowl. With a sharp paring knife, cut the top and bottom of the oranges so you have a flat surface to set them on. Cut away the peel and white pith bits all around orange. Cut the orange into 1/2-inch thick rounds, then cut the rounds in half, arrange the fruit around the edges of 4 salad plates.

Shave the fennel with a mandolin into very thin slices; roughly chop them if needed to make them bite-sized. You will need about 4 cups of loosely packed, shaved fennel. Cut the feathery leaves away from top of fennel stalks and chop them roughly.

Whisk the orange zest, vinegar, honey and olive oil together in the mixing bowl. Add the fennel and fennel leaves, salt and pepper and toss to coat the fennel with dressing. Mound mixture in center of salad plates. Serve with a chilled Vouvray.

Beans and Rice and Hoppin John

2009-01-05T23:36:00.000-08:00

Ahoy foodies!
Happy New Year!

It is indeed a new year, so instead of my old Google newsletter, I am switching to blog posts.
New Year's day, I made my usual batch of hoppin' john (black eyed peas) and collards, as I always do. I first read about this Louisiana tradition that is supposed to bring you luck and "green backs" in the wonderful book The Seductions of Rice by Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid. And boy did I rejoiced upon reading it!

It had always seemed to me that there was a lack of food associated with New Years, save perhaps PeptoBismol. Thus, I have been making red beans and rice (I don't much like black eyed peas) and a mess of greens every year on New Year's day as a borrowed tradition from one of my favorite places on Earth. This year, I shared the meal with friends Britt and Josh. As we sat down to eat, I inquired where Britt had grown up and almost dropped my cornbread muffin in my champagne when she said, "New Orleans." I would have been much more nervous had I known where she were from!

Fortunately the food gods were smiling down on my little linoleum kitchen and the whole meal turned out quite well. So well, in fact, I thought I might post my first blog with some of my recipes from the evening instead of sending out the usual Google newsletter. That way more people might enjoy my occasional missives. I humbly ask your patience, since I am new to this blogging thing. Please leave comments and let me know what you think!

New Year's Day Red Beans and Rice
serves 6 as a side dish
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 1/2 cups finely chopped onion
1/2 cup finely chopped celery
1/2 cup finely chopped red bell pepper
1 tablespoon finely chopped garlic
1 1/2 cups long grain rice
2 tablespoons salt-free Cajun seasoning (I like Penzeys.com)
3 1/2 cups water
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 cans red beans, drained and rinsed
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1/4 cup apple cider vinegar
Salt and freshly ground pepper

1. In a medium saucepan, 1 tablespoon of oil over medium heat. Add 1/2 cup of the onions and saute until translucent, 4 minutes. Add the beans, tomato paste, vineagar and 1/2 cup water and bring to a gentle simmer. Cover.
2. Heat 2 tablespoons olive oil in a large lidded sautepan over medium heat. Add the remaining onions, celery and bell pepper and saute until the onion begins to brown. Add the garlic, rice and Cajun seasoning and cook 1 minute, stirring constantly. 2. Add remaining 3 cups of the water and salt and bring to a simmer. Cover and simmer without stirring until rice is tender and liquid is absorbed, 18 minutes.
3. Season beans with salt and pepper to taste...adding hot sauce if you like. Transfer the rice to a large serving bowl and make a hole in the center of the rice. Pour the beans into the center of the serving bowl and serve with greens, cornbread muffins and cold cold beer.

Banana Bourbon Bread Pudding
Serves 6
5 large eggs
8 tablespoons sugar
2 cups 2% milk
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 baguette, cut into 1/2-inch slices
2 tablespoons demerara sugar
4 ounces butter 3/4 cup brown sugar (not packed)
2 bananas 1/4 cup good Bourbon (from your husband's stash, shh don't tell)

1. Preheat oven to 350. Spray a 8-inch square baking pan with non-stick cooking spray. Combine the eggs, sugar, milk and cinnamon in a medium bowl with a whisk.
2. Place 2 layers (about half the bread) in the baking pan. Pour half of the egg mixture over bread, allow mixture to sit for ten minutes to give the bread time to absorb the liquid. Cover with remaining bread and custard and sprinkle with demerara sugar and bake until a knife inserted in the center comes out with no liquid egg clinging to it, about 40 minutes.
3. Melt the butter in a small saute pan over medium heat. Add the brown sugar and stir until smooth. Slice the bananas and add them to the sugar mixture. Add the bourbon. Ignite carefully with a kitchen lighter. When flames subside, take sauce off of heat.
4. Cut the bread pudding into squares and serve with banana sauce spooned over the top.