Not Derby Pie » comfort food

Butterscotch Pudding

rivka — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 00:34:46 +0000

2011, over already? Jeez.

It was a big year, 2011. Perhaps not as epic as 2010 (marriage!), but 2011 saw our first anniversary (with drinks at the W and dinner at Palena – lucky us!) and, in the same month, the purchase of our first home (an awesome condo with plenty of open space, a dream kitchen, and a deck…have I really not shown you pictures yet? Wristslap! We’ll solve that soon.)

D started a new job this year, and I’ve been busier than ever at mine. More direct reports, more travel, and generally more responsibiity have all thrown something of a wrench in my grand plan to post more in 2011. You see, I’ve got so much to share with you; all sorts of little tips and tricks, entertaining ideas, and tasty morsels I ate in restaurants and tried to recreate at home. I want to share them all with you. But time was scarce in 2011, so some of those tips, tricks, ideas, and recipes – well, they’re still lodged in a far corn of my brain, waiting patiently for 2012.

Some of our cooking, eating, drinking, and food-coma-ranting did actually make it to this space, though. There were bourbon pecan bars and ginger brownies that will make you swoon, I guarantee it; Easy green beans with pesto vinaigrette that I’ve made, oh, 20 times since first posting about them; and of course, my favorite fish dish ever, which took me only 5 years to finally share with you – Veracruz-style snapper. With a new year on the horizon, I’m ready as ever to find more memorable food – and to share it with all of you.

So let’s get the new year off to an auspicious start, shall we?

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Leek Latkes with Herbed Yogurt

rivka — Thu, 22 Dec 2011 14:50:14 +0000

By now you know that my mom was the primary cook in our house. She made us dinner almost every night. Still, my dad does have a few signature dishes that he’d make occasionally, which I really loved as a kid. One was apple pan dowdy. Another was matzah brei. And the third — the marvelous third — was latkes.

My father’s latkes are the best. They’re lacy and delicate, well-seasoned, and unshyly fried to a (sometimes deliciously burnt) crisp, just the way I like them. I’ve made them his way several times over the years. I’ve also tried my hand at my mom’s equally good sweet potato latkes, and have — as she sometimes does — mixed some zucchini into my pancakes. All varieties are worth making, now aren’t they?

Hanukkah provides an annual excuse to blithely and guiltlessly fry things. Never one to squander such an opportunity, this year I decided to experiment in the fried-root-vegetable-pancake department. No potato latkes for us this time around; the wringing and sieving and squeezing what appears to be an endless stream of liquid from those tubers simply got the best of me. Instead, I turned to the book that now sits front and center on my new cookbook shelf: that’d be Plenty, the newish book from Tel Avivi/Brit Yotam Ottolenghi. It’s like this book was written just for me: eggplant, pomegranates, tomatoes, feta, and yogurt are just about everywhere. And everything I’ve read about this book suggests that it’s ideal when used as a starting point, a resource for improvisational cooking. That’s just my speed.

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Twice-Baked Sweet Potatoes

rivka — Wed, 23 Nov 2011 16:59:53 +0000

I’m back, in the nick of time, with one last side dish to grace your Thanksgiving table (because really, can you ever have enough sides?) By now, you’re probably squared away with your stuffing, your Turkey, and those pies. So here’s an idea for what to do with all those sweet potatoes. I wouldn’t call it a traditional dish, but it’s certainly a play on tradition.

I’ve always loved twice-baked potatoes, with their crisp skin and just enough potato inside to cushion the cheesy filling. So why not twice-bake sweet potatoes? Yes, their flesh is less starchy, and their skins are harder to crisp up. But when you succeed — and you will succeed – you will reap the rewards of hot, sweet, crunchy, soft, sweet ‘taters like you’ve never had’em before.

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In the Small Kitchen: Noodles with Peanut Sauce

rivka — Tue, 31 May 2011 14:36:29 +0000

When a package arrived at my office earlier this week, I could hardly wait to tear it open. Inside was this gem:

Cara Eisenpress and Phoebe Lapine, the lovely ladies behind Big Girls, Small Kitchen, recently came out with a cookbook, and people? It is beautiful. The book charts Phoebe and Cara’s first year of cooking “in the real world,” offering recipes, tips, hosting ideas, and more for the just-out-of-college crowd. I can’t think of a better gift for new grads.

Naturally, the night it arrived, I read In the Small Kitchen cover to cover. The book is organized by occasion, rather than by type of recipe, which is surprisingly utilitarian: finger-food and drinks are grouped together in the cocktail parties section, while grainy salads and sandwiches can be found in the very comprehensive section on potlucking. Thinking back to my years as a recent college grad, I’m pretty sure the ladies cover basically everything I wanted to know at that time: how to host a good party, get drunk, and eat enough good food to keep down the liquor.

But this book isn’t just for the post-college crowd. Over the past couple years, I’ve cooked many of Phoebe and Cara’s recipes — mostly from Food52, where we met, but also several from their blog. From secret ingredient beef stew tochicken tagine and more, these ladies know how to cook. They write thoughtful, funny recipes, and their book puts that talent on display.

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Party Wings

rivka — Mon, 28 Mar 2011 00:08:34 +0000

I may seem delicate, with my ginger-infused biscuits and meyer lemon streusel muffins, and you know what? Maybe I am. But boy, do I love a good chicken wing. Whether battered and fried or sauced and crisped, great wings have become something of an interest. The crunchy skin and juicy meat, the sheer mess of it all, allures me.

I make wings on the rarest of occasions, so I get quite picky about which recipes to try. Last time, I made David Chang’s Momofuku wings. They might have been the best chicken wings I’ve ever made. But they also were the most work-intensive wings I’ve ever made, requiring all manner of pots and pans and way too much time. Frankly, they were too complex to post.

Back to the drawing board I went, in search of savory, juicy, flavorful wings without so much effort. I found one from none other than Cathy Barrow, aka Mrs. Wheelbarrow, a core member and anchor of the DC Food52 crowd and one of my favorite new friends. Cathy has a fantastic blog, and is also at the helm of Charcutepalooza, a yearlong charcuterie-making project. Needless to say, she’s a force.

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Mujaddara with Yogurt Sauce

rivka — Sat, 01 Jan 2011 15:28:30 +0000

Happy New Year!

In anticipation of my first post in 2011, I looked back at my last posts in 2009 and my first in 2010, to jolt my memory about where I was and what I was doing the last time I rang in a new year. Turns out, I was in Israel. Lucky me. I’m stateside this year, which, if you factor in the 12 hours I won’t spend on a flight to get there, ain’t half bad. We brought in 2011 with cocktails (lychee martinis, bourbon gingerale, the fancy stuff!) and appetizers (all sorts of delicious: we’re talking lahmajoun, deli sliders, chicken wontons, coconut corn fritters, the works). I’m chasing the debauchery and excess of December 31st with a healthy, wholesome 1/1/11. This here is a recipe even the most stern-faced New Years resolution-makers will be able to enjoy.

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Marcella Hazan’s Pasta with Eggplant Sauce

rivka — Sun, 26 Dec 2010 17:48:36 +0000

For most of you, this weekend was chock full of great food. I may not have had Christmas dinner, but I had a southern feast of fried chicken, pulled smoked beef, and collards that rivals the best Chinese takeout of my storied Jewish-Christmas past. Still, as I think back on the past couple weeks of eating, I tell you this with little hesitation: long fusilli with Marcella Hazan’s Tomato-Eggplant sauce is the single best food item I’ve eaten in weeks.

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Mozzarella in Carrozza

rivka — Wed, 01 Dec 2010 16:03:06 +0000

For food lovers, Hanukkah is an eight-day period in which to justify that guilty pleasure, deep-fried food. Latkes and sufganiyot (jelly donuts) might be the most traditional Hanukkah fare, but they are the tip of the iceberg when it comes to things improved by a hot oil bath.

The reason we eat fried foods on Hanukkah is well-known, if not entirely logical. Because a one-day supply of oil kept the menorah in the Temple lit for eight full days, we have the tradition of consuming as much oil as we can, in remembrance of the miracle. So let’s fry some stuff, shall we?

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Spiced Chicken and Rice

rivka — Fri, 12 Nov 2010 15:22:34 +0000

I know the big T is just under two weeks away, and I get why everyone’s talking cranberry relish and turkey like it’s their job. But we’ve all gotta eat between now and then, and this is one damn good way to get nourished.

Last week, we had the first cold weekend in DC. Now my immune system is starting to feel like the Little Engine that Could. I’m teetering on the brink of a mighty cold, and no amount of OJ or echinacea or (ick) Emergen-C has helped. Not to mention, somehow I didn’t get the email about the free flu shot clinic at work, so I’m totally exposed to the best of winter’s illness smorgasbord. Surely, I’m not alone in my unfortunate predicament. (Right?)

I’m starting to think fighting the cold is overrated. Let’s face it: I’m going to get sick sooner or later. And when I do, I’m going to to curl up on the couch, wrap myself in the sweatshirt-blanket, and tuck into a deep bowl of something warm and comforting. My will to not get sick may also be diminished by the fact that, lastweekend, I made the best chicken and rice I’ve ever had. If I’ve gotta go down, I’d like to do so over a bowl of this stuff.

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Two Bruschette for Spring

rivka — Thu, 17 Jun 2010 14:33:54 +0000

While I’ve usually thought of May as the true spring-to-summer transition month, these days, June seems to be taking on that role. One day the weather’s as hot and sticky as boiling caramel, the next it’s as cold and damp as the dish towel. But the erratic weather carries with it the promise of vegetable bounty. I may be mourning the end of asparagus season (how did I not realize until now that asparagus are the best vegetable on earth?) but I’m ramping up for my full-blown annual tomato courtship. And it’s just tomatoes that roll around in June — peas, snap and shelling varieties, have finally made their debut. Few things make me happier than bright green peas and tender, juicy tomatoes: there, I’ve exposed myself in all my nerdiness.

Over the past few years, I’ve settled into something of a routine when it comes to tomatoes and peas. I love tomatoes raw in salad, or simply sliced with a little flaky salt and olive oil. I get thrills from popping peas out of their pods and into blanching water, or tossing them with asparagus into pasta primavera. These bruschette are every bit a part of that routine. The tomato bruschetta occupies that middle ground between unadulterated raw tomato slices and a good, rich, labored tomato sauce, concentrating the flavor of the tomato without sacrificing its essential texture. Ditto the pea bruschetta, which celebrates the freshness of the peas’ by adding complementary flavors, but retaining their plump firmness. I suppose by now it’s pretty clear: I’m totally hooked on pea and tomato bruschette.

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Smothered Cabbage Risotto

rivka — Fri, 02 Apr 2010 00:51:01 +0000

Among the oft-neglected cookbooks on my shelf is a big, light green volume called Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking. It’s by Marcella Hazan, the justly venerated Italian cookbook writer notorious for her particularity, her precision, and her deep understanding of proper Italian cuisine. While the recipes reflect that precision (you can practically hear her preemptively chiding you for matching pasta with the wrong sauce), some of them are really quite simple. Case in point: smothered cabbage. A whole head of cabbage is shredded thinly, then braised low and slow with olive oil, onion and garlic, salt and pepper, and a shake of red wine vinegar. To say it’s simple is to understate it a bit.

If you have extra cabbage (though really, why would you? I made a double recipe so I wouldn’t be forced to choose), Hazan offers a modest recipe for Rice and Smothered Cabbage Soup. It’s basically chicken broth, rice, the cabbage, and a dusting of permigiano reggiano cheese. A one-pot wonder.

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Beets with Fennel, Orange, and Walnuts

rivka — Mon, 01 Mar 2010 14:05:56 +0000

It’d be unfair if I didn’t confess to you that as I try to write about beets and fennel and orange and walnuts, I’m watching Lydia Bastianich add home-cured mackerel to cannelini bean bruschetta and red onion salad, and all I can think about is how delicious that oily, vinegary cured fish must taste. Holy dear, I need to turn this off.

Where were we? Ah, yes. Beets.

By now you know it’s winter here, I certainly don’t need to tell you that. And surely you’re also aware that I’m having a bit of a fennel moment. But stay with me for a second. Fennel is crunchy and bright, the perfect antidote to February (not that I have anything against my birthday month, but holy bejeezus, it’s cold out there!). Fennel’s also a lovely addition to roasted beets, helping them feel less like a mid-winter consolation prize and more like an antidote to that cold weather. Ditto oranges, one of the few fruits that not only is readily available all winter long, but actually hits its peak right around this time. (Granted, they’re shipped in from Florida and elsewhere, but until you find me a job and an apartment squarely in California, I’m stuck with airplane citrus.) Put those flavors together on a plate, along with some toasted walnuts, and you’ve got yourself a nice looking winter salad.

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Ginger Fried Rice

rivka — Sun, 21 Feb 2010 18:34:58 +0000

It’s a rare day that I get to make lunch for myself at home. When I do, I tend to steer clear of the fancy in favor of those simple things that simply don’t work in my office toaster. Especially in winter, when I put a premium on warm, cozy meals and crusty, toasty bread, I feel especially lucky on those rare occasions that I can make a pot of something or other, pour it straight from the stove to my plate, and eat it piping hot.

Quite often, lunch at home amounts to a bowl of leftover soup, topped with some grated cheese and browned under the broiler, that I eat alternately with a big ole’ spoon and thick slice of toasted bread for dunking. But it’s not always soup that wins my vote when I’m home. Sometimes I prefer something I can really sink my teeth into, like a big bowl of long fusilli, my new favorite pasta. But other times, it’s neither soup nor pasta that does it. It’s something simpler, more elemental. It’s rice.

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Soup of Fresh Shelling Beans and Sorrel

rivka — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 18:04:40 +0000

Is it Monday? I’m pretty sure it’s Monday. The last two weeks have been a blur of sniffles, tissues, and gallons (I mean it) of chai. I came down with a cold just around the start of the month. Chalk it up to a late recovery from August’s crunch time at work. I took a couple of days on the couch to recover, and when it started to fade, I headed back to the office. But the cold wasn’t finished yet, and by trying to rush it, I only invited it to extend its stay. Sure enough, it hung around, bringing a sinus infection to the party, and before I knew it, two weeks passed. Well now I’m better, but in anticipation of the many unwelcome colds sure to pay visits this summer, I’ll share a godsend of a recipe with you. It’s for a soup so simple, yet so restorative, that I probably wouldn’t have made it through the past half-month without it.

One morning when I was feeling unusually chipper, I shelled some fresh cranberry beans and threw them in a pot. I added a couple teaspoons of olive oil, half an onion chopped, 2 whole cloves of garlic, water, and, about 20 minutes in, a big bunch of sorrel leaves (NOT the stems, which, I learned the hard way, separate into sharp spindles that are incredibly NOT fun to eat, especially when glands are swollen. Ouch.) I let the whole thing boil away for 25 minutes total; by then, the beans were pretty soft but not mushy, the sorrel was fully cooked, and the broth was incredibly fragrant and a bit tart from the sorrel.

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Crostini of All Sorts

rivka — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 17:23:31 +0000

During a recent stop at the bookstore on my street, Idle Time Books (which, btw, had a cameo in A Few Good Men), I was thumbing through cookbook author Deborah Madison’s latest book, What We Eat When We Eat Alone, which she co-wrote with her artist-partner Patrick McFarlin. WWEWWEA (liberally abbreviating the long title here…) is a funny and shockingly intimate account of the ways in which, in the absence of others, food becomes our animated companion. It’s a book that draws you in, and before I knew it, I had plopped down on the floor to dig in, and was reading about pouring sardine juice onto cottage cheese and eating it on one foot at the open refrigerator. I laughed out loud as I thought about similar moments I’ve had, grabbing a bite standing up while I peer into the fridge for my next little nibble.

In the spirit of celebrating this wonderful little book, I’ll tell you about one thing I invariably eat lots of when it’s just me in the house: crostini.

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Carrot-Zucchini Bread

rivka — Fri, 02 Oct 2009 00:30:26 +0000

This is the kind of recipe I live for. It reminds me of those really good bran muffins you find at local coffee shops, with the nutty, wholesome flavors and tops that crust around the edges and never are perfectly round. It’s got a more well-defined crumb than carrot kugel, but it’s not as sweet as carrot cake, and grated zucchini lends it sophistication. Not that this is a snobby loaf — just the opposite. It takes about 5 minutes to mix together, and the 80-minute baking time lets you actually get something else done while you wait. I brought it to our pre-Yom Kippur meal on Sunday afternoon, but it’d make a phenomenal breakfast or afternoon snack.

special thanks to reader Catherine for pointing out that I failed to mention the eggs in the ingredient list. Sorry everyone! Three eggs.

Carrot Bread
adapted loosely from Bon Appetit

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup white whole wheat flour
1 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking soda
1/4 tsp. baking powder
1/2 cup brown sugar
3/4 cup cane sugar
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1/4 cup applesauce
3 eggs
2 cups grated carrot
1 cup grated zucchini

Preheat oven to 350°F. Butter and flour 9x5x3-inch loaf pan. Sift first 6 ingredients into medium bowl. Beat sugar, oil, eggs, applesauce, and vanilla to blend in large bowl. Mix in zucchini and carrot. Add dry ingredients and stir well.

Transfer batter to prepared pan. Bake until tester inserted into center comes out clean, about 1 hour 20 minutes. Cool bread in pan on rack 15 minutes. Cut around bread to loosen. Turn out onto rack and cool completely. (Can be prepared 1 day ahead. Wrap in foil and let stand at room temperature.)

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Granola with Tahini

rivka — Wed, 09 Sep 2009 16:25:52 +0000

Ahh lovely readers, I’ve missed you! I’ve been posting sporadically at best for the past month, because work has been absolutely insane and I haven’t had time to even enter the kitchen, let alone write about it. That last post on zucchini soup was my lame attempt to give you reading material while I was at work, so as not to abandon you completely — but I unwittingly passed along a post from last year, just before my Alaska cruise, and let you all think I was headed on a fabulous vacation. Not so! I spent Labor Day…..well, laboring. At the office. Until very late. But now all that should be behind me because we signed off on our research yesterday, and all that’s left to do is write the accompanying speech. I’m hoping today is the beginning of my re-entry into my favorite room of the apartment. Cross your fingers for me, will you?

Busy times at the office need to end with something restorative. Sometimes it’s a big bowl of pho, with its etherial broth and slurp-tastic noodles. Other times it’s a piece of good toast with some homemade jam. This morning, the first in a month that I haven’t had to start a 15-hour day at 8:30 am, I made my own granola.

I once was in the habit of making granola every week. It’s a good thing to have around for breakfast in the morning, and it pairs great with that super-tart yogurt in the fridge. But lately there’s been no time for such simple pleasures, and breakfast has consisted mostly of whatever I grabbed the night before at Trader Joe’s. Needless to say, I was more than ready to put my own labor hours back into the food I eat.

My usual granola has almond butter, which I find creates clumps better than water or oil and whose flavor doubles down on the granola’s nutty flavor. This morning, though, I was out of almond butter, so I went with tahini (sesame butter), which has a similar texture, instead. To balance the flavor of tahini, which can be overwhelming if not used sparingly, I added a splash of walnut oil, as well as a bit of chopped crystallized ginger, which paired well with the sesame flavor and gave a little punch. A generous pinch of cinnamon and a whisper of cloves brought the granola squarely into fall’s territory, which I suppose is appropriate, given that the weather is dreary and it’s dark when I wake up these days.

I was still concerned that the tahini might overwhelm, but it totally doesn’t: because the granola cooks until golden, the other flavors in there — almonds, oats, ginger, cherries, raisins — get a chance to toast and intensify, bringing the sesame flavor into balance. I LOVE this batch and plan on making another one, some other not-super-early morning.

Hope you all had great weekends, and I look forward to seeing you around here more regularly!

Granola with Tahini

2 1/2 cups oats
1/3 cup maple syrup
1/4 cup tahini
1 Tbsp walnut oil, optional
2/3 cup pepitas (pumpkin seeds), either salted or unsalted, depending on preference
2/3 cup sliced almonds
2/3 cup chopped pecans
2/3 cup raisins, cranberries, or other dried berry (I like half raisins, half cherries)
2 Tbsp chopped crystallized ginger
1/2 tsp salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon cloves

Preheat oven to 325.

In a small bowl, mix syrup, tahini, oil if using, salt, and cinnamon until incorporated. In a large bowl, mix all remaining ingredients until well-distributed. Drizzle the syrup-tahini mixture overtop, stirring with a fork until all dry bits are at least slightly wet and clumps have started to form.

Spread granola on a large rimmed baking sheet in a thin layer and bake at 325 for 10-12 minutes. Remove from oven, stir with a fork to move pieces from edge to center and from top to bottom. Make sure pieces that have started to brown are in the center and well-surrounded. Return to oven and bake 10-12 more minutes, until golden brown throughout. Granola will not be crunchy when it leaves the oven; don’t worry — it’ll crisp up as it cools. Once cool, transfer to air-tight container; granola will keep this way for up to 1 month.

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Tamarind-Cherry Meatballs

rivka — Thu, 06 Aug 2009 12:23:24 +0000

Short post today, but I wanted to offer a recipe that puts the tamarind puree I recently posted to good use. These meatballs are really a cinch to make; they’re studded with rich, nutty pine nuts, and the sweet-tart sauce, with fresh and dried sour cherries and plenty of tamarind, is downright addictive. The recipe is a combination/adaptation of two recipes, both from Aromas of Aleppo, that beautiful Syrian Jewish cookbook I mentioned in my post on tamarind puree.

Sour cherries are done for the season here in DC; if they’re over in your area as well, you can substitute frozen sour cherries, available at some grocery stores, or replace the fresh ones with more dried cherries, and add a bit of extra apple cider or wine or even water to compensate for smaller amount of cherry juice.

I served these with saffron rice, which provided both flavor and color contrast to the meatballs. The combination was perfect, and I highly recommend it.

Sour Cherry Meatballs
adapted from Aromas of Aleppo

1 pounds ground beef, preferably NOT lean (if lean, add a couple Tbsp. olive oil)
1/2 cup chopped pinenuts
a couple sprigs of parsley, leaves removed and chopped
1 1/2 teaspoons allspice, divided
3 onions, diced
1 pound sour cherries or 2 cans/jars pitted cherries, including liquid (NOT pie filling!)
3 tablespoons tamarind puree
juice of 1 lemon
1 tablespoon sugar
1 cup red wine
1/2 cup crushed tomatoes
3 tablespoons vegetable or olive oil, divided

Combine beef, pine nuts, parsley, and 1/2 teaspoon allspice in a medium mixing bowl. Using a fork and a light hand, break up ground beef and incorporate other ingredients; do not overmix or press too hard, as you want beef to stay light and airy.

In a medium saucepan, saute meatballs in 2 tablespoons olive or vegetable oil over medium heat, until lightly browned, turning gently to brown on all sides. Remove meatballs and set aside.

Using the same saucepan, saute the onions in the remaining tablespoon oil over medium heat until translucent, about 5 minutes. Add liquid from cherries (if fresh, use 1/2 cup water or apple cider instead), lemon juice, tamarind puree, red wine, 1 teaspoon allspice, and crushed tomatoes. Stir to combine; bring to a boil. Add meatballs and cherries back into the pan. Cover, reduce heat to low, and simmer for 1 hour, or until sauce has thickened.

Serve hot, either over pita or over saffron rice.

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Perfect Blueberry Buttermilk Hotcakes

rivka — Fri, 31 Jul 2009 01:41:54 +0000

The NDP kitchen is swimming in blueberries. They were a mere $1.25 a pint at today’s market, so I couldn’t resist buying just ~~a few~~ 5. I ate half a pint on the way back from the market, because they’re so sweet! And I’m a grown up so I can! So there! I’ll freeze 2 of the pints, and the other 2 (er, 1 1/2) will work their way into salads and crisps and maybe even some hand pies. After trying Sarah’s bourbon peach and sour cherry hand pies at our office bakeoff, I’m dying to try my hand at making them. I’m pretty sure her recipe was from Deb at Smitten Kitchen, and no surprise there — the crust was perfectly flaky, and the sprinkling of rock-sugar on top of the not-really-sweet crust made all the difference. And those cherries! I’m still mourning the end of sour cherry season, so you’ll have to bear with my whining. If anyone sees sour cherries this week, pullease leave a tip on the blog about where one can find them.

But I digress. Because here I go, planning where all my blueberries will find themselves, when in truth I’ve already put 1/4 pint toward a very noble cause: perfect blueberry hotcakes. I don’t make pancakes often, so when I do, I tend toward the luxurious end of the pancake spectrum. My go-to recipe calls for 6 Tbsp. of melted butter that are then incorporated into buttermilk and egg yolks for a tangy, rich batter. Whipped egg whites are folded in just before cooking to lift the batter and make the hotcakes uber-light, and fresh blueberries lend color and zing that contrast perfectly with the sweet, sloshy puddles of maple syrup. These hotcakes were the antidote to my very busy week. If Friday night partying isn’t your way to ring in another weekend, let these be the sign that Saturday is finally here.

Perfect Blueberry Buttermilk Hotcakes
adapted from Beltane Ranch, via Food and Wine

serves 4-6

Ingredients
1 1/2 cups unbleached flour — I use half whole wheat
2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
2 cups buttermilk
6 Tbsp. unsalted butter, melted and cooled
2 large eggs, separated and at room temperature
1/4 pint fresh blueberries
maple syrup

In a medium bowl, mix flour, baking soda and salt. Set aside.

In a large bowl, whisk together buttermilk and egg yolks. Add butter and stir until well incorporated. Add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients and stir just until combined. Add blueberries and fold into batter to incorporate.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment or in a medium bowl using a hand mixer, whip egg whites until stiff peaks form. Using a rubber spatula, fold in egg whites gently, and stir just until combined.

Heat a lightly buttered castiron or heavy stainless steel skillet over moderately low heat. Using a ladle or a 1/4-cup measure, put two-three pancakes in the pan.

Let hotcakes cook for about two minutes, or until top begins to set around the edges.
Flip and cook 1 minute longer, then transfer to a 280-degree oven to keep warm while you cook the rest of these beauties.

Serve with good maple syrup and a big appetite.
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Summer Succotash

rivka — Tue, 28 Jul 2009 14:20:55 +0000

Round next of my weekday lunch series, where I post about dishes that’ll put PB&J to shame.

I love the flavor of buttery, salty, corn on the cob. I love it even more now that I’ve discovered the sweetest corn ever, from Toigo Orchards. Toigo sets up shop at the Dupont farmers’ market; their corn has apparently won “best at the market” several years in a row. The last time I bought it, I was told it was picked the day before; it doesn’t get much fresher than that. And having tried other ears, they really don’t compare. Some are too starchy, and others have a thick, almost leathery skin around the kernel, whereas Toigo’s ears are sweet, the thin-skinned kernels practically bursting with juice.

Having bought quite a few ears last week, I was searching for new things to do with them come week’s end. For dinner on Friday night, I served this succotash dish — a very simple play on that classic Southern staple. It’s got the flavor of sweet, salty cob corn but with just a drizzle of olive oil instead of the usual butter. I bulked up the succotash with some chopped green beans, which I left on the raw side, and panfried zucchini, which I essentially seared in a smoking but oil-less castiron pan, then allowed to soften in the serving bowl. The succotash gets a boost from freshly-squeezed lemon juice and a bit of the lemon’s zest, but other than that, olive oil, salt, and pepper are its only seasoning. When the produce is this good, you don’t want to doctor it up much more than that.

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Classic Mac and Cheese

rivka — Fri, 19 Jun 2009 12:39:18 +0000

As you all know by now, D’s made lots of culinary concessions for the sake of our relationship. In the four-plus years we’ve been together, she’s become someone who appreciates good food far more than I ever thought she would. So this past week, I felt inspired to acknowledge that by taking a couple of steps in her direction and finally trying my hand at macaroni and cheese.

I’ve been meaning to make mac and cheese for quite some time. After seeing Ina Garten make it several months ago on her FN show, Barefoot Contessa, I knew it wouldn’t be difficult to make. Then I saw that show rerun like four or five times (ok, Ina, I get it!) and decided to give it a go. The method is simple: heat flour and butter to make a roux. Add milk and mix to combine, then continue stirring until the milk is thickened. Add lots of cheese, stir until it melts, then incorporate cooked and drained macaroni. Optional step: transfer macaroni to a gratin, add some very optional tomato slices, top with buttered bread crumbs, and broil until bread crumbs are golden and crunchy.

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Spaghetti with Ramps

rivka — Sun, 19 Apr 2009 16:58:39 +0000

Hello out there! Sorry to have abandoned ship for the past week — due to Passover, I’ve been subsisting on a strange diet of matzah, farmers cheese, avocado, and salad. Not exactly the stuff worthy of a blog post. Most people would rather clean their bathroom than volunteer to host a dinner party the day after Passover ends, but moi? I’ve been itching to get back in the kitchen something serious. So yesterday, I did just that. I cooked up dinner for some of D’s law school friends and relished every minute of my time with my dishes, my kitchenaid, and best of all — FLOUR.

As if eating carbs again weren’t cause enough for celebration, have you looked outside? It’s Spring! The cherry blossoms here in DC are in full bloom (many are already past their bloom, which means the grass is blanketed in pink) and the weather this weekend has been just gorgeous — a perfect 76 and sunny today, in fact. I couldn’t be happier about the weather; so you better believe last night’s menu took full advantage not only of the end of the holiday, but of the start of my favorite season.

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The Makings of a Middle Eastern Lunch

rivka — Thu, 12 Mar 2009 02:51:27 +0000

Hard to believe it’s already Thursday and another Saturday is nearly upon us. I’m still thinking about last weekend’s 75-degree weather and super-chill Mediterranean style lunch. A trip to NYC will prevent me from repeating that meal this Saturday, but if I could, I would, in half a heartbeat. It’s the obvious way straight to my heart: breads, spreads, salad, and a glass of wine. Easy to please, no?

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Rice Paper Rolls

rivka — Fri, 06 Mar 2009 12:13:09 +0000

Lunch makes or breaks my day. If it’s good, I cruise through the whole afternoon on the contents of my midday tupperware, don’t get really hungry again til about 4 or 5, and by then, I can pop a couple almonds, some honey wheat pretzels, or a piece of the dark chocolate bar I stash in my first drawer (don’t tell), any of which will easily hold me over until dinner. If it’s bad, I’m hungry at 1:30 and every minute thereafter, until my next real meal. I’m fidgety and tired, fussy and hungry. The upshot? If lunch is bad, the day is, like, the total opposite of awesome.

It’s with this in mind that I’ve launched my impromptu Good Things for Lunch campaign. You know, the one that brought you zucchini tart, and edamame cabbage salad, and yam and chickpea salad too. What’s next, you ask? Good things.
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Friday Freakout #1: Where’s my local falafel joint?

rivka — Fri, 27 Feb 2009 19:03:25 +0000

In the interest of diversifying this blog beyond my standard “photo with recipe” formula, I’m instituting a new feature called Friday Freakout. No explanation needed, right?

Having recently returned from Israel, falafel is on the mind more than usual. Walk down the streets of Jerusalem with me for a moment: you won’t make it a block without passing at least one falafel/hummus/shawarma joint — more likely 2. Some are truly falafel stands, where all orders are to go, salad bar is DIY or done in a jiffy by the man behind the counter (trust me, you’ve never seen hands move so quickly). Others are hummusiot — hummus is what’s for dinner, served on its own or with any number of topings, ranging from tehina and chickpeas to sauteed mushrooms or even meat. Lastly, you’ve got the do-it-all places that have shawarma, falafel in pita or laffa (the big peasant-bread wraps), and hummus platters. And like I said, they’re everywhere.

So why is it that there’s no really, really good middle eastern food spot within walking distance of my house? To sharpen the gripe: there are three hummus/falafel/shawarma places within two blocks of my pad. The two best ones (Amsterdam Falafel and Old City Cafe) are decent, the third one (Shawarma spot) is really horrible — like, effervescent hummus and bug-in-plate horrible. AmFal and OCC are fine, and they do the trick in a pinch: their falafel is crispy and pretty flavorful, their salatin (salads) are varied and some are pretty ok, but nothing out of this world — and their hummus simply isn’t so good. Last time I checked, hummus makes or breaks the whole sandwich.

The real joke here is that considering how many options are around me, I’m relatively lucky: outside of Adams Morgan, the hummus-falafel-shawarma food group is pretty endangered.

And that’s not to mention the severe lack of other middle eastern food in the area: labneh (tangy, thick yogurt with a hint of salt), kubbeh hamousta (sour Yemenite soup with zucchini, sorel, and meat-filled dumplings) and good, not-overly-sweet baklavah are nowhere in sight. grr.

That concludes this installment of Friday Freakout. Do you live in DC and know of good ME food joints? Are you brewing over the lack of this food in another city? Comments, people, comments.

Now that the mood is off my chest, happy Friday and a wonderful weekend to all!

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Best Cauliflower EVER

rivka — Wed, 28 Jan 2009 14:43:48 +0000

Before you get annoyed that the title of this post is dramatic without being descriptive, consider the following: this recipe has 6 ingredients, including salt. It takes 25 minutes start to finish and is easily the most delicious cauliflower dish I I’ve ever had ever ever. Ever. Better to tell the world how wonderful it is than to try to name what can only be described as good, yes?

Now then, let me tell you about cauliflower with capers and sherry vinegar. That’s all that’s in this — save for a drizzle or two of olive oil and a sprinkle of salt — but it’s good, lip-smackingly good. No surprise that it comes from the king of simple, Mark Bittman, and his wonderful bible “How to Cook Everything Vegetarian.” Having cooked from it and read many chapters straight through, I think I can safely say that it’s the best $23.10 you can spend in the cookbook section. Check it out here.

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Menu for Hope Raffle Results

rivka — Fri, 16 Jan 2009 14:54:27 +0000

Well, Menu for Hope was quite a success! Over $60,000 raised for the UN World Food Program in Lesotho…very impressive, especially considering the rough times.

To see if you won one of the many fantastic prizes, head over to www.chezpim.com for the complete list of winners.

Also, if you’re the lucky lady who won my Big Ole Box of Sweets (UE07), shoot me an email — Rivka(at)Notderbypie(dot)com — and I’ll be happy to discuss allergies, preferences, timing, etc. Very excited!

Congrats to all the winners and I hope everyone has a lovely weekend!

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Beans in Broth with Caramelized Sweet Potato

rivka — Fri, 09 Jan 2009 03:17:21 +0000

Have I told you about Rancho Gordo? Having read too many articles about the joys of dried beans, I teamed up with my officemate and we ordered a shipment. Now, under my counter, I’ve got a healthy supply of them, including rio zape, tepari, mayocoba, garbanzo, and borlotti.

I’ve always loved beans. (It’s tough not to when you grow up in a vegetarian house.) And I won’t lie: nothing beats the convenience of canned beans. If you won’t take it from me, take it from Adam: I couldn’t agree more that in a pinch, canned kidney bean chili or canned garbanzo bean hummus tastes just great. But canned beans are on the mushy side, and they taste like salt. If I can spare the time and manage the advance prep, it’s wonderful to bite into toothsome beans for dinner — and nothing beats controlling your own seasoning.

Like I said, dried beans can’t be made in a flash. They need to be soaked overnight, rinsed, and then simmered for at least a couple hours to achieve optimum texture. If you can manage the time, though, you’ll see that dried beans have better texture and distinctive flavor, even when prepared uber-simply. Last night’s dinner is a case in point.

Yesterday was a super cold day; I knew I’d want something warm and comforting for dinner, but I didn’t want to use any meat products, so my frozen beef-broth cubes were out of the question. I’d put some beans in soaking water that morning, so that was a start. My normal inclination would be to dump the kitchen sink in a pot and hope it turned out well, but I’ve been thinking a lot about the value of restraint when seasoning food. Sometimes, the simplest dishes are the tastiest. How would my beans taste if instead of seasoning them with beef broth and 20 spices, I used water and 5? I decided that now was the time to try a minimalist bean dish.

On my way home, I did a quick mental-survey of my kitchen and remembered a lonely sweet potato in the bowl on the dining room table. As soon as I got home, I turned the oven to 350, wrapped the sweet potato (skin on) in old foil and tossed it in. I’d leave it there until the beans were done; by then, it’d be nice and caramelized, with a custard-like texture.

Meanwhile, I took 1 cup of soaked tepari beans (small, like cannellini) out of the fridge, drained them, and rinsed them a couple times. In a medium pot, I sauteed 2 chopped shallots in 2 Tbsp. of olive oil. To that, I added 1/2 tsp. coriander seeds, 1/2 tsp. smoked paprika, 1/2 tsp. aleppo pepper (chili flakes would work), a pinch of saffron, and 1 bay leaf. I stirred all this around for a couple minutes, then added the beans, stirred to coat with the seasoning, and added 3 cups of water. I turned the heat down to medium-low, and left the beans to simmer, covered, for about 2 hours, adding more water as necessary. In two hours’ time, the spices mingled, and the beans released some of their own flavor as well. There was plenty of extra liquid, which formed a lovely pot liquor scented with coriander, smoked paprika, and, well…beans. I poured some into a bowl, added half of the sweet potato with its wonderful caramel-brown skin, got myself a spoon, curled up on the couch, and went to heaven. Amazing.

Beans in Broth with Caramelized Sweet Potato

(As I said, this recipe is simple, but truly amazing. So amazing, in fact, that I failed to take a picture of the finished dish. You’ll have to let your imagination kick in here.)

1 sweet potato
1 cup tepari or other small white beans
2 shallots, chopped
1/2 tsp. aleppo pepper
1/2 tsp. smoked paprika
1/2 tsp. coriander seeds
pinch saffron threads
1 bay leaf
3 cups water

Wrap sweet potato, skin-on, in foil and toss in the oven. Turn on to 350 or 400 degrees (we’re flexible), and just let it rip. Give it at least an hour; the longer, the better. I left mine in for about 2 hours and 15 minutes, and it was as soft as custard.

Pre-soak beans overnight or for at least 3 hours in water that covers them by at least an inch.
Drain and rinse; set aside.

In medium pot, saute 2 chopped shallots in 2 Tbsp. of olive oil. Add 1/2 tsp. coriander seeds, 1/2 tsp. smoked paprika, 1/2 tsp. aleppo pepper (chili flakes would work), and 1 bay leaf. Stir to incorporate, then add the beans, stirred to coat with the seasoning, and add 3 cups of water. Turn the heat down to medium-low, and leave the beans to simmer, covered, for about 2 hours, adding more water as necessary.

When beans are fork-tender but not mushy, pour a serving into a bowl with some of the bean broth, and add half the cooked sweet potato. If desired, top with grated parmesan cheese (though I didn’t).

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Apricot-Stuffed French Toast

rivka — Fri, 19 Dec 2008 13:08:25 +0000

The third installment of “what’s for [catered] brunch?” begins with a tip on cooking for a crowd. When cooking for a crowd — especially if it’s folks you don’t know personally — I always try to size up the guests during the menu-planning stage, so that I can be sure I’m cooking dishes that’ll go over well, even if I don’t care much for them. When Rocco DiSpirito was on Top Chef a couple weeks back, he announced (inappropriately, if you ask me) that he loves bacon; every chef but one presented a bacon dish. The chef that didn’t actually made something that sounded pretty tasty, but he lost because Rocco likes bacon. Also: my friend Julia regularly cooks chicken when she hosts lunch, even though she’s veg, because her guests like chicken and she aims to please. It makes sense: cook for the crowd, not necessarily for yourself.

While I don’t always follow this rule, I tend to stick with it when I don’t know the people I’m cooking for, as with the catered brunch from a few weeks back. And since I know that most people love creamy, gooey things, I opted for a (relatively) easy stuffed french toast recipe from Martha. It’s basically thick slices of french toast that are stuffed with a mixture of apricot jam and cream cheese. Not my cup of tea, nor my mom’s, but boy was it the crowd favorite. As usual, we made some key adjustments after tasting the filling, because we found the combo of cream cheese and apricot jam somewhat flat and lacking in character. A generous confetti of lemon zest and a fair sprinkle of lemon juice made all the difference. We made enough that there were three for each person; five courses notwithstanding, people did the job and polished off nearly all the french toast. Watching the guests rave, my mom and I took one of the end pieces, put it on a plate, sliced two little bites off, and each tried it. We looked at each other, bobbed our heads in agreement that it tasted as we expected, and then laughed as we acknowledged that neither of us particularly liked it. But hey, the guests were happy. More than happy.

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Serious Barbeque Sauce

rivka — Wed, 17 Dec 2008 01:53:35 +0000

Missing your grill right about now? I sure am, and I never even had a grill. But nothing says “miss your grill” like cold, wet, winter nights.

Enter Ina Garten, my favorite Food Network dame and partner in butterlove. Her bbq sauce is the real thing, lemme tell you. By the looks of the recipe, you’d think she was joking: you’ll need nearly 10 bottles of already-processed sauces and goops to make her sauce. But when it’s done, you’ll see that she was serious all along. Laced with onions, generously spicy and perfectly sweet-tart, this sauce is way, way tastier than the sum of its (very processed) parts. Trust me.

Serious BBQ Sauce
From The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook
Makes 1 ½ quarts

1 ½ cups chopped yellow onion (1 large onion)
1 T. minced garlic (3 cloves)
½ cup vegetable oil
1 cup tomato paste (10 ounces)
1 cup cider vinegar
1 cup honey
½ cup Worcestershire sauce
1 cup Dijon mustard
½ cup soy sauce
1 cup hoisin sauce
2 T. chili powder
1 T. ground cumin
½ T. crushed red pepper flakes

In a large saucepan on low heat, sauté the onions and garlic with the vegetable oil for 10 to 15 minutes, until the onions are translucent but not browned. Add the rest of the ingredients. Simmer uncovered on low heat for 30 minutes. Use immediately or store in the fridge.

Have you bid yet? Go bid! Go! Now!

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What I did with my very last tomato

rivka — Sat, 22 Nov 2008 05:07:27 +0000

Yes, folks, it’s true: tomato season has come to a close. Back when I made this, in October, I wasn’t walking, it seemed pretty unlikely that I’d make it back to the farmers market to catch one last round of tomato madness, so I figured it was safe to assume that the tomato I ate that night was my last for the season. I’m a card-carrying member of the tomato lovers’ cult, so that’s not an easy thing to admit — but, like an old fling whose time has come to an end, I think I can walk away from this one with no regrets.

Running with that analogy for a minute: you’d like to think your last time with the fling would be the best there was to have, the best there ever would have been. But that’s never the case, is it? Usually the last time is just….fine. Such was the case with my last tomato. It wasn’t one of those specimens that could have been framed. No shiny, taut, glossy skin and jewel-like innards. Had it been perfect, I’d have eaten it raw, simply sliced with olive oil and fleur de sel. But I was already smack-dab in the middle of fall, and my tomato wasn’t so perfect. However, it was jam-packed with flavor, that I can assure you. So I prepared that last tomato in a dish that quickly became a standby this summer — a dish that’s perfect for celebrating tomatoes’ flavor even when their texture is somewhat imperfect. What’s that, you ask?

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Braised Sweet and Sour Red Cabbage

rivka — Fri, 14 Nov 2008 16:22:02 +0000

Not too long ago, I walked into my parents’ house and immediately caught wafts of the most fantastic aroma coming from (as always) the kitchen. I started sticking my fingers into each of the dishes sitting on the dining room table, eager to find the source. After trying most everything else on the table, I nonchalantly scooped up a pinch of cooked red cabbage, thinking not even a little that it might actually be the culprit. Boy, was I surprised. Divine, I tell you! And I don’t use that word all too often…but this truly is a recipe for the ages.

Turns out, it’s also dead simple; go figure. At my persistent begging, my mom passed along the recipe she’d used to make it. I tweaked it, as I am often wont to do, because when I see an ingredient in the fridge and think it might add something, I’ve no self control, not even an ounce. And while sometimes that habit ruins otherwise tasty cooking (insert gross story here), other times, I’m rewarded for my impulses. This cabbage most definitely benefited from my hyperactive ingredient-adding tendency.

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lazy boozy french toast casserole

rivka — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 18:36:21 +0000

Since having surgery on my foot, my time in the kitchen has been severely limited. It pretty much hurts to stand still for more than a few minutes, and I can’t put much pressure on the foot yet. My left foot is taking a serious hit, what with all the hopping and limping, so standing on one foot to cook complex, multi-step dishes is also not an option. With this in mind, I’ve had to curtail my everyday zeal about being in the kitchen, and limit my cooking to practical dishes requiring little to no prep.

When at last Saturday’s lunch we found ourselves with a whole extra challah, I somehow got tapped to take it home. And people, I think we all know that there are few things better than day-old challah french toast on a lazy Sunday. With that said, soon as I woke up on Sunday morning, I realized that the absolute last thing I wanted to do was hover at the stove, waiting for all those slices to soak and fry up. It just wasn’t going to happen.

Enter awesome Deb of Smitten Kitchen, and her recipe for Boozy Baked French Toast. The perfect antidote to both hunger and laziness, baked french toast allows you to enjoy this fantastic weekend breakfast without all the prep work. The result? A cross between french toast and bread pudding; not your usual crunchy-all-around slices of fried french toast, but a lovely casserole with soft, custardy innards and a crisp crust, thanks to cinnamon sugar topping.

Of course, some of us procrastinate more than others; Deb had the foresight to make her casserole overnight, giving the bread time to soak up the milk-egg mixture. I’m simply not that awesome. I woke up Sunday morning wanting French toast casserole, having done absolutely nothing the night before. But hey — I made it work. I cut the milk by a third, so there would be less liquid floating around. I also dotted the top layer with butter, to ensure that the cinnamon sugar would get crispity-crisp. My last-minute game plan totally payed off. About 40 minutes after french toast casserole entered my head, it entered my mouth. Oh-so-tasty. Maybe I’m awesome after all.

Lazy Boozy French Toast Casserole
adapted from Smitten Kitchen

1 loaf Challah bread in 1-inch slices, any kind will do
2 cups whole milk (3 if letting sit overnight)
3 eggs
3 tablespoons sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt

Your choice of flavorings: I used Deb’s recommendation of 3 tablespoons Bailey’s and 3 tablespoons Cointreau, but she also suggests Frangelico (hazelnut), Chambord (raspberry), Creme de Cassis (black currant) Grand Marnier or just a teaspoon or two of vanilla or almond extract. You can add a teaspoon of zest for a citrusy kick, add a half-cup of chopped nuts such as almond slivers or pecans between layers or on top or a similar amount of raisins or other dried fruits. And of course, let’s not forget chocolate chips for over-the-top indulgence.

1. Generously grease a 9×13-inch baking dish with salted (Deb’s fave) or unsalted butter.
2. Arrange bread in two tightly-packed layers in the pan. Cut one slice into smaller pieces to fill in gaps, especially when using braided Challah. If using a thinner-sliced bread, you might wish for more layers, though Deb finds that over three, baking can be uneven. If you are using any fillings of fruit or nuts, this is the time to get them between the layers or sprinkled atop.
3. Whisk milk, eggs, sugar, salt and booze or flavorings of your choice and pour over the bread. Sprinkle with cinnamon and sugar and dot with butter.
4. If making at night, wrap tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate. The bread will absorb all of the milk custard while you sleep.
5. Bake at 425 for 30 minutes, or until puffed and golden. This will take longer if you have additional layers.
6. Cut into generous squares and serve with maple syrup, fresh fruit, powdered sugar or all of the above.

Serves 6 as main course.

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Shana Tova!

rivka — Mon, 29 Sep 2008 16:18:26 +0000

To all those celebrating the Jewish New Year (and to all of you, regardless of whether or not this happens to be the start of a New Year for you)…

May this be a year of happiness,

a year in which we take time out to enjoy the small pleasures,

a year in which we do not hesitate to try many new things,

a year in which we find new ways to love our families, friends, and significant others,

a year in which we use our strength to help those more in need than we,

and of course, a year in which we eat wonderful, wonderful food.

Shana Tova, Bria, U’Metuka: a happy, healthy, and sweet new year!

(Also, between my recent foot surgery and the upcoming holidays, I actually missed the first anniversary of NDP!! I can promise a celebratory post after all these holidays pass and my foot heals…but for now, happy blogiversary to NDP!)

Ima’s Challah
link to recipe
On Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year, we have a custom of making the challot round, to symbolize the cycle of the year that renews on this day. Braid each loaf extra long, then, starting at one end, wrap the braid around itself, lifting the braid slightly on top of itself as you go. Tuck the end under, brush with eggwash, and bake as normal.

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Sticky, Gooey Cinnamon Buns

rivka — Wed, 24 Sep 2008 12:30:27 +0000

If you’ve gone this long without making cinnamon buns (which, shockingly, I have), it’s likely not because you’re skeptical that they’ll be worth it. What other foods smell ridiculously appetizing, even when what you smell is usually a corporate chain version loaded with high fructose corn syrup and other delicacies? No doubt they taste fantastic and are worth the effort, so that’s not the cause of hesitation. More likely, you’re just a bit daunted by the task. To me, cinnamon buns have always sounded like a very work-intensive, time-intensive project, possible only for those with half a day to devote to the task. I just figured that with a project as seemingly complex as cinnamon buns, I should hold off until I had an occasion to do them. Perhaps you did, too.

Such an occasion arrived last Sunday, when a bunch of us threw a bridal shower for our friend D, who’s getting married in November. D’s not so into the gush-gush-rip-the-wrapping-paper-ohh-ahh stuff, so when B suggested a book shower, D readily agreed. It’s really right up her alley. We pitched the shower as a chance to get D a book that belongs on every shelf, a book you especially love, or a book that you thought D would love — and, considering we got lots of oohs and ahhs and no doubles, I think it was a success!
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Summer vegetable (and fish) stew

rivka — Sat, 13 Sep 2008 15:49:37 +0000

If you’re anything like me, your fridge is swimming with zucchini and corn, your counters teeming with beautiful tomatoes. Not that I’m complaining, mind you — I wouldn’t dare, with summer produce this close to done — I’m just saying, I’ve got three bumper crops and I don’t even have a garden. What’s a girl to do?

Not fret, that’s for sure. I’ve found countless] great sources for ideas to use up the big three. Not to mention the inner-workings of my own crazy imagination…which led to this summer vegetable (and fish) stew. The fish in () because it’s optional. (Not that everything in this recipe isn’t optional — hell, you could change the stew entirely for all I care — but I’ve been told by my friends that I need to be more assertive and instructive, less “just do what you want”ish. I’m trying.) You want to know a secret? I didn’t plan on making this a fish stew at all. I planned on making braised zucchini-ratatouille dish, then pan-frying some turbot fillets and laying them nicely on top. All went as planned, until I flipped my fillets (which were doing beautifully in a generous helping of browned butter). I’d hoped for them to have a nice, crisp browned crust, but instead the grains had separated and stuck to the bottom of the pan and it didn’t look pretty at all. For your sake — so that you wouldn’t have to look at a picture of a yummy-ugly dish — I took the ratatouille, tossed it right back in the pan, and started spearing the fillets with my spatula to break them up a bit. As I finished them off in the ratatouille, they started to break down a bit, forming a nice-looking stew. I served the stew (to myself and D) with a slice of good, crusty sourdough, which proved ideal for mopping up the juices at the bottom of my bowl. What started as a mistake ended…quite nicely, if you ask me.
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Portobello Burgers

rivka — Fri, 05 Sep 2008 22:09:59 +0000

Until two nights ago, I’d never made a portobello burger. Hard to believe, I know. It’s, like, the simplest thing to make. Like, ever. And yet I somehow managed to make chocolate pretzels, potato foccacia, even Buche De Noel before getting around to this dead-simple dinner. Well, we’ve remedied that, folks, yes we have — and it certainly won’t be the last time I do it. Some facts about portobello burgers: they’re freakin’ easy. And tasty. Did I mention easy? Oh, and they’re uber-versatile. Like last night, for example, D ate hers as she would a normal burger: pickles, honey mustard, tomato, bbq sauce. I had mine like a true snob: taleggio cheese, avocado, heirloom tomato, pesto, on ciabatta bread. Delicious either way, we’ll both assure you. And really, took approximately 8 minutes to cook. I don’t have a grill or grill pan, but I used a very hot castiron pan and it did the trick.

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Greens? mouthwatering. Pictures? Not so much.

rivka — Sat, 24 May 2008 14:16:26 +0000

(After a long, long hiatus — nearly 2 weeks! — I’ve finally got a recipe for you. I recently started a new job, which, in contrast to the old one, actually necessitates my doing work. It’s been tough to adjust to a full — often overflowing — workday and still make time to blog, but I’m coming around. Thanks for continuing to read, and I promise, more great recipes are in the wings!)

Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever posted such ugly pictures (save some of my early shots, which are pretty embarrassing). My apologies if looking at them makes you lose your appetite. I didn’t even bother to put the watermark on that second one — let’s face it; no one’s going to claim to have taken that ugly pic.

But the spinach, people, the spinach. It’s absolutely delicious, and I insist that after staring for way too long at these ugly pictures, you go bother to make the spinach that’s in them. I happened to have spinach in the fridge, and stumbled upon this recipe in The New Best Recipe (aka my New Best Cookbook). It’s not my usual tune to make creamed spinach. I’m more drawn to raw salads and quick-sautees with Asian flavors than I am to heavy, Southern-style greens. However, I will certainly be making frequent exception to that rule from now on. TNBR’s creamed spinach recipe yielded a perfectly delicate green, sweet from the cream and a pinch of sugar, slightly salty, a bit spicy from the freshly-grated nutmeg, and buttery from a sauteed shallot and, well, butter. I guess it’s not hard to see how anything can be made tasty if you add sugar, salt, cream, butter, and shallots. But anyway, this spinach was pretty much a home run. I actually cut the cream in half, and it was still delicious, so if you’d be inclined, do the same.

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Vintage Breakfast Biscuits

rivka — Mon, 10 Mar 2008 18:46:43 +0000

I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that everyone loves a good buttermilk biscuit. What’s not to love? buttery rich flavor and mouthfeel, flaky texture, piping hot innards, and now I have to stop because I’m salivating. Back in Israel, D used to get super excited at the prospect of biscuits for breakfast. Now that I’ve discovered my absolute favorite buttermilk pancake recipe, biscuits get less airtime in our house, but I haven’t totally forgotten about them.
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Shakshuka

rivka — Wed, 05 Mar 2008 01:50:35 +0000

To say I love shakshuka is both a huge understatement and slightly misleading. How’s that? Well, I more than love shakshuka; it’s one of my absolute favorite breakfasts, lunches, and dinners, and hell, snacks. When D and I can’t agree on what to put in the omelet or pancakes, I just say “shakshuka?” and everyone shuts up. (Usually.)

However, I like shakshuka my way. And my way is… well, my way is delicious, but it’s not really shakshuka. Traditional shakshuka is an Israeli dish comprising sunny-side-up eggs in a spicy, onion-y tomato sauce. That’s how I make it for D, but not for me. Please don’t yell or scream or call me a fake foodie, but I don’t like runny eggs. I know they’re delicious and wonderful and life-changing for many-a-gourmet, but I’ll have my eggs rubbery as leather and burnt on the outside, thank you very much. Scoff if you must.

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Make-your-own Mexican Dinner

rivka — Mon, 21 Jan 2008 01:49:56 +0000

D and I were both very excited at the thought of turkey burgers, but you can’t make turkey burgers when the grocery store is out of turkey. hmm.

After a few moments’ hesitation about what to make my very hungry and over-studied cohabiter, I settled on mexican. Now, before you get too excited, this isn’t Diana Kennedy, from-under-the-adobe-flap Mexican (though I love Kennedy’s cookbooks, especially this one, and need to make some of her recipes soon!). This is Americanized Mexican food with just a few twists to make it more authentic. And you know what? It’s pretty damn good. Because we’re kosher, we do either the meat inside or the cheese on top. But please, don’t hold back. A little cotija cheese and sour cream never hurt anyone.

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Baked Oatmeal

rivka — Sun, 20 Jan 2008 16:58:27 +0000

By now you all know that Sunday morning breakfast is practically an institution in this house of mine. Usually, it involves some form of yeasty, delicious bread, from apricot couronne to challah french toast to the fall-favorite, spiced pumpkin bread. This morning, D and I and our house guest Eric somehow managed to sleep past the crack of dawn, and when we rolled out of bed at 10, making bread for breakfast was totally, like totally, out of the question.

Sprawled horizontally on the couch, I started thinking about recipes that take little-to-no effort. Baked rice pudding instantly came to mind: I remember marvelling at how fantastically easy it was to make such a flavorful and luscious (and not all too unhealthy!) dessert. Inspired by the laziness of my rice pudding adventure, I decided to try the same technique with oatmeal. Granted, oatmeal doesn’t require the stirring and monitoring that rice pudding does — just zap it in the microwave and voila! you’re good to go. But nuked oatmeal lacks the crust that I was so craving this morning (being without my bread and all.) Baking oatmeal would likely create a crisp exterior, which, when cracked, would yield soft, plump oats. And all it would involve was mixing everything together, transfering to a pan, and tossing in the oven. The whole thing sounded really promising.
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Saffron-Nutmeg Rice Pudding: Sugar High Friday!

rivka — Sun, 09 Dec 2007 01:24:00 +0000

Something has happened. There used to be no stopping me from gravitating straight toward the chocolate. In Baskin Robbins, I had no control over my constant need for chocolate raspberry truffle, and therefore tasted almost no other flavors for about six years. My mom could hide all the candy in the house and I wouldn’t notice, but if chocolate had a hiding place, I could find it in a flash. Lately, my long-standing chocolate obsession has taken a backseat to simpler things. Exhibit A: this little rice pudding number, featured in the latest issue of gourmet. I turned the page to the letters section, noticed the recipe for rice pudding with (gulp) nutmeg as the only flavoring (not even vanilla!) and thought, I. must. make. this. now.

So I did.

Where has all the chocolate gone? No matter. If you make this rice pudding, I guarantee you won’t miss chocolate, no, not one little bit. Nutmeg may sound “simple” when you shake it from the jar into your carrot soup (the subject of a later post…stay tuned!) But when it’s freshly grated, when it stands alone on arborio rice — with just some milk, cream and sugar to pull the pudding together — why, nothing could be more complex.

Nutmeg is a “warm” spice, at once spicy and sweet, with a real bite and a pleasant bitterness that make it irresistible. In the jar, its flavor gets somewhat muted, so grate some from a whole nutmeg whenever possible. I bought 20 whole nutmeg pieces for a buck fifty, so it shouldn’t set you back much, and it’s truly worth it.

Now, I’ll be honest: I didn’t stop at the nutmeg. After all, something as simple as rice pudding provides a golden opportunity to play around. I happened to buy a (relatively) big box of saffron a couple weeks ago, and I’ve been waiting for a chance to use it. What better than a bright yellow, saffron-nutmeg flavored rice pudding? So it was settled.

Aside from the nutmeg, what drew me to this recipe was the stirring — or lack thereof. Typically, rice pudding means hovering over the stove until your back aches, stirring the thing around and around so it doesn’t clump or stick or overcook. Needless to say, it’s a pain. But this recipe was for baked pudding: simply mix the ingredients in the ramekins themselves, stick’em on a baking sheet, and bake’em in the oven for an hour. Let’s face it — not much could be easier. And I’d be surprised if you don’t scrape your bowl clean, as I did. Saffron-Nutmeg Rice Pudding: my entry for this month’s Sugar High Friday.

Saffron-Nutmeg Rice Pudding adapted from this month’s Gourmet
serves 4.

2 cups whole milk
1/3 cup Arborio rice
8 tsp. sugar
salt
whole nutmeg
12 threads saffron
4 Tbsp. heavy cream

Preheat oven to 325 degrees, and put rack in the middle. Butter the ramekins.
Add 1/2 cup milk, 4 tsp. rice, 2 tsp. sugar, and a pinch of salt to each ramekin. Grate a bit of nutmeg over each, and put 3 threads of saffron in each. Stir well to combine, and ensure that the spices don’t float, if possible.
Put ramekins in a shallow baking pan and bake until most of the milk is absorbed and the tops are golden-brown, about 1 hour.
A skin will form on each ramekin; remove the skin.
Stir 1 Tbsp. cream into each pudding until creamy. Allow to cool, and if desired, refrigerate 30 minutes until chilled.
Enjoy — don’t forget to scrape your ramekin to the last drop.

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Challah French Toast

rivka — Wed, 30 Nov -0001 00:00:00 +0000

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Ima’s Challah (now with whole wheat instructions!)

rivka — Sat, 27 Oct 2007 15:46:00 +0000

Growing up, there was one option for challah in town: that was Shalom’s, the kosher supermarket in Wheaton, MD. Every Friday my mom would swing by Brookville supermarket and pick up two challot, which were delivered from Shalom’s that morning. The challah was truly uneventful: it was never dense enough, far too airy, not sweet or eggy, and usually even a bit crumbly. A lame excuse for challah, if you ask me.

My mother started making her own around the time I left the house, and she’s never gone back. Before she had the kitchenaid, she did it all by hand, which is actually less time-consuming and labor intensive than one might think. Now that she has the kitchenaid, challah is a snap to make.
Over the years, I’ve collected three fantastic recipes for challah. I make each with some regularity, but my mother’s recipe is a standout. First off, the basic recipe makes 2 very small challot, or 1 very large one, which is perfect for me, since I often cook for two and don’t need all that extra bread lying around. (Not that D or I would object to Sunday morning french toast….) Second, it’s just sweet enough without being cloying. Third, it’s very easy to substitute some whole wheat flour and wheat gluten for white flour, which makes for a healthier, more rustic loaf of bread. And finally, she’s my mom. Moms’ recipes are best.

A warning about this challah. Once, I was bringing challah to a meal for 17 people, and I made three loaves; traditionally, the challah is served at the beginning of the meal, while everyone’s still hungry, so it tends to go quickly. Sure enough, we sat down to dinner and within an instant, both loaves were entirely devoured. I offered to bring out the third, but everyone said they had had enough and didn’t want more. They continued to resist at my urging, so I left well enough alone. After dinner, people had moved toward the couch to schmooze, and I went into the kitchen to help clean up….and found three girls holding the third challah between them, ripping off big pieces and devouring the loaf as though dinner had never happened.

Yep, this stuff is pretty addictive. It ain’t no subwayeatfresh, but it’s close.

Ima’s Challah
makes 2 small challot; double if you’re having company
directions for a kitchenaid are in italics
see end of post for whole-wheat substitution instructions.

1/2 cup warm water
tsp. sugar
1 packet (2-1/2 tsp.) yeast

3 c. flour
tsp. salt
1/4 cup plus a few Tbsp sugar
1/3 cup vegetable oil
1/4 cup water
2 eggs

1. Put 1/2 cup warm water in a small bowl. Add the tsp. of sugar, sprinkle the yeast overtop, and leave it to proof for five minutes (just to make sure the yeast is alive).

2. Mix flour, salt, and 1/4 cup plus few Tbsp. sugar in a large bowl (or in a kitchenaid bowl fitted with the dough hook.) Stir to incorporate or blend on low speed.

3. While yeast is proofing, mix wet ingredients together.

4. Add yeast mixture to the flour; add wet ingredients to the bowl, and mix or blend on low-medium.

5. Knead the dough for about ten minutes, until everything is well incorporated. Add flour by the Tbsp, with a light hand, until dough is stretchy but not sticky. Blend on low-medium until dough comes together. Make sure flour at the very bottom of the bowl gets incorporated as well; this usually entails some incorporation by hand.)

6. Cover the dough, in its original bowl, with a moist towel. If you have to, use plastic wrap and cover loosely.

7. You have two choices for the rise: either leave the dough to rise for one hour, or (as I do) let it rise twice, for 45 minutes each, with a punch-down between rises.

8. Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

9. After the rise(s), the dough should be soft and more flexible than before. Separate dough into three (six if using a double recipe). Roll each ball into a log almost 1-foot long. Braid the logs together to create your loaf. Trick: I start in the middle and do not pinch the top ends together before starting. After I’ve braided from halfway down to the bottom of the loaf, I turn the loaf over and upside down, and braid the other half. This way, both ends look identical. Tuck the ends beneath the loaf when braiding is finished.

10. Put each loaf on its own baking sheet; brush with egg wash, if desired.

11. Bake at 375 degrees for 20-22 minutes, until challot are golden and baked through.

Serve warm or at room temperature.

**For whole wheat flour, use the same amount as white, but add one Tbsp. wheat gluten for every cup of flour. This ensures that the bread will have that same chewy but soft texture as with white flour. You can find wheat gluten at wholefoods or Trader Joes — and perhaps at your local supermarket as well. As for which whole wheat flour, my mom recommends King Arthur organic white whole wheat flour: in her words, “it gives the white bread consistency with whole wheat nutrition.”

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Chicken Cholent

rivka — Thu, 18 Oct 2007 20:58:00 +0000

I think I officially have enough blog traffic that my Jewish friends aren’t the only ones reading! This means that I actually have to explain what cholent is. (This is very exciting.)

Cholent is what Ashkenazi Jews (from Eastern Europe) used to eat every Saturday for lunch. Sephardi Jews ate something similar, but they called it “Hamin” (which means “hot stuff” in Hebrew…funny, no?) We still make this today, and to my knowledge, little has changed in terms of the basic ingredients — though every cook adds his or her special touch.

The key to cholent is cooking time. Because traditionally, no cooking is allowed on the Sabbath, people start cooking cholent by sundown Friday, and don’t touch it until they’re ready to eat it on Saturday for lunch. By Saturday afternoon, the watery, murkey pot-o-goodies is an entirely different animal: the barley has soaked up all the water and turned soft and supple; the meat (or, as here, chicken), having been braised for about 18 hours, falls off the bone unprodded. Potatoes have turned dark brown from steeping in chicken stock and whatever else is in the pot — and the marrow in the bones is creamy, flavorful and delicious. Sound appealing?

Over the years, the basics of cholent have stayed the same (meat, potatoes, barley), but the little things change from chef to chef (and, in my case, from time to time). I find that meat sits in my stomach like a brick when I eat it on Saturday afternoon, so my new thing is subsituting chicken. Sometimes I add apricots and carrots, sometimes prunes or dates. Once I even did a tagine style and included preserved lemons. As for the liquid, I frequently add chili sauce or bbq sauce, which are both pretty common — but anything will do.

The best part about cholent is that it only improves with age; leftovers are even thicker and more flavorful. I’ve included a recipe below, but that’s really not necessary, for two reasons:

a) cholent is a method, not a recipe. Just throw some protein and carbs in a pot, cover with liquid, and cook forever.

b) my actual cholent recipe is someone else’s prized posession, and it was given to me on strict condition that I never write it down, let alone pass it on. I wasn’t even allowed to transcribe it as I heard the holy words uttered; I merely had to remember it as best I could, and try to replicate the recipe according to my (very flawed, very human) memory. You may not be surprised to know that he who gave me this recipe actually called it “Torah She-B’al Peh,” or “Oral Law.”

So that’s that.

Cholent

serves lots.

1 whole chicken or many strips of flank steak

several potatoes or any kind, washed and quartered

a few cups of barley

a couple marrow bones, optional

salt and pepper

any or all of the following things and more: carrots, apricots, prunes, dates, raisins, gosh I don’t know — preserved lemons, olives, tomatoes, you name it.

Dump all this in the crock pot.

Cover with water by at least a couple inches or more.

Add any or all of the following sauces, if you wish: bbq, teriyaki, sweet chili sauce, tomato sauce, soy sauce, etc.

Turn on high until boiling, then switch to low and leave it alone until ready to eat!

I should mention one note: some people stick balls of tinfoil between the actual crock pot and the heating device in which it sits, so as to avoid the burnt crust that forms at the bottom of the pot. I like burnt, so I leave well enough alone.

Happy Cholent!

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Crisp Potato Eggplant Tart

rivka — Sat, 01 Sep 2007 14:46:58 +0000

This is a dead-simple dish that can serve as a side to a good steak, or as a vegetarian main dish. It’s not too difficult to make, and the payoff is worth the trouble.

Crisp Potato Eggplant Tart
adapted from Great American Food, by Charlie Palmer with Judith Choate

2 1/4 cups finely diced, peeled eggplant
1 teaspoon coarse salt plus more to taste
1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons safflower oil
3 tablespoons minced shallots
4 large Idaho potatoes
Pepper
1/4 cup (1/2 stick) unsalted butter

Place eggplant in a nonreactive bowl. Toss with 1 teaspoon of salt and allow to sit for 20 minutes. Remove to a clean kitchen towel and tightly twist to squeeze out all moisture. Set aside.

Heat 2 tablespoons of oil in a medium sauté pan over medium heat. Add the eggplant and shallots and sauté for about 6 minutes, or until very tender. Remove from heat and set aside.

Peel potatoes. Using a hand grater or mandoline, shred potatoes into a clean kitchen towel. Tightly twist to squeeze out as much moisture as possible.

Preheat oven to 375°F.

Heat remaining 1/4 cup of oil in a 9-inch ovenproof, nonstick sauté pan over medium heat. Using a spatula, evenly press half of the potatoes into the pan. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Spread the reserved eggplant over the top. Pat remaining potatoes evenly over the eggplant. Again, season to taste with salt and pepper. Cook for about 10 minutes, or until bottom is golden. Carefully turn and dab the crust with bits of butter. Cook for about 5 minutes, or until bottom begins to crisp. Place in the preheated oven and bake for 25 minutes, or until potatoes are cooked and tart is golden and crisp. Remove from oven and allow to rest for 5 minutes. Using a sharp serrated knife, cut into 6 wedges and serve immediately.

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