Not Derby Pie » good for you

Mushroom Pea Curry

rivka — Sun, 08 Jan 2012 20:30:53 +0000

It’s a week after New Years, and I’m talking about vegetables. Could I be more predictable?

Yes, it’s that time of year when everyone you know has committed to hit the gym 3 days a week, quit cursing, and eat less meat. Personal experience tells me that while everyone clamors to steal my spot at spin class for a few weeks after the holidays, by mid-February, I’ve got my bike back (even if I have to call before 6 to reserve it – and yes, it’s that worth the early wake-up: Dave is my overenthusiastic spinning instructor who hasn’t bought a record since “Walking on Sunshine,” and I love him for it.)

I’ve made resolutions before. A couple Augusts ago, I spent an inspiring day with my friend Cathy (known to the interwebs as Mrs. Wheelbarrow), and felt so fired up by all the things we’d made that I spontaneously made a list of Kitchen Resolutions. You know what? I’ve done all but two – I’m pretty proud of that.

Still, when it comes to traditional New Years resolutions, I’m more of a tweaker, preferring incremental changes to whole-hog lifestyle makeovers. While eating minimal meat was how I was raised, it’s also a lifestyle choice I’ve consciously adopted. I try to avoid meat and poultry from animals not raised sustainably, which means most of the meat served at large functions and in typical restaurants is off-limits. I also keep a kosher home, and there’s no way around the fact that kosher sustainable meat is incredibly expensive; I buy it only a few times each year. As such, I’m always on the lookout for interesting vegetarian dishes. This time of year, with all those Meatless Monday resolution-makers, I’ve got plenty of company.

A few weeks back, before climbing onboard for two family vacations (more about those later), a slew of holiday parties, and really more cookies than I feel comfortable counting, we made Indian food for dinner. I steamed basmati rice with saffron. I grilled up some impossibly smooth, silky avocado chapatis. We made Jen’s Curryflouwer Surprise. And then there was this: mushroom and pea curry from the queen of Indian cooking, Madhur Jaffrey. It’s the best curry I’ve made to date.

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Brussels Sprouts with Caraway Seeds

rivka — Fri, 18 Nov 2011 15:58:36 +0000

Ohh, brussels sprouts. The unsung hero of the Thanksgiving table. Have your turkey, eat as many sweet potatoes as you’d like; when the maple syrup is dripping down your chin, the marshmallows bursting from your jowls, and the cranberry sauce shmeared bright red across your plate, you will have a moment – everyone has a moment – when the sweetness of it all, the sheer quantity of sugar, exhausts you. At that moment, you’ll reach for the bowl of brussels sprouts, grateful that something on the table that’s purely savory. Thank goodness for brussels sprouts.

here’s the thing about sprouts recipes, though. Lots involve that very maple syrup that coats your yams. Or apples. Or pears (guilty as charged). Those are delicious – I’m not criticizing! – but if you take your turkey in a sweet direction (here’s one recipe I’m particularly excited about that looks pretty sweet), you’ll want a foil for all that sugar. So if I were making Tday dinner this year, I’d go as simple as it gets. Just some olive oil, salt and pepper – and the secret star ingredient: caraway seeds.

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Beef Stew with Vadouvan

rivka — Mon, 24 Oct 2011 15:54:49 +0000

I didn’t believe it was possible to make a flavorful beef stew without beef stock, but this recipe proved me wrong. An unassuming combination of cheap stew meat, green beans, tomatoes, and spices come together on the stove and cook low and slow, turning into something distinctly more than the sum of its parts. The green beans melt into lusciousness while, miraculously, maintaining their texture through hours of cooking. And the tomatoes become a complex, silky sauce that coats the beef and does wonders for a bowl of hot rice.

I adapted this stew from a Food52 recipe that, quite frankly, needed no adapting. It calls for coriander and cumin, which I used in moderation, and which are quite lovely. However, I also added plenty of vadouvan, an intriguing blend combining many of the spices in curry – cumin, tumeric, mustard seeds – with more French spices like shallots and nutmeg. It’s positively seductive, and it works magic on this stew.

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Curried Cauliflower Chickpea Salad

rivka — Mon, 17 Oct 2011 15:52:23 +0000

You might — as I did — assume that any recipe written by the likes of Thomas Keller is completely out of reach for us mere mortals. Yes, he of the Best Restaurant in New York publishes books, with recipes in them. I have one of these books, and it isn’t even the crazy-complicated one. It’s Ad Hoc, the most approachable of his books, which documents the food from his family-style restaurant in Yountville. I’ve read it through several times; it’s a beautiful volume. It’s found a permanent home on our coffee table. Unfortunately, I’ve been too flat-out intimidated to actually make his food. The recipes look simple enough – farro with butternut squash, summer vegetable gratin, etc – but when you dig deeper, every recipe subtly calls for like eight other recipes. I was a bit put off.

You probably think I’m being lazy, or weak, or something. After all, better women have cooked every recipe from his high-end cookbook without breaking a sweat. (Okay, maybe a little sweat.) But I am not so bold. I confess, I tire at the site of long, involved recipes, especially when they’re ultimately meant to be eaten as a weeknight dinner. I believe there’s plenty of time to cook good food at home, even on weeknights, but multi-step recipes require either lots of time, or lots of foresight. These days, I have neither. But after this weekend, I do have a newfound enthusiasm and can-do spirit: I’m cooking (slightly adapted) Keller, and you can too.

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My Israeli Salad

rivka — Mon, 12 Sep 2011 17:07:20 +0000

If you ask D about my eating habits, she’ll not hesitate a moment before telling you that they’re strange. Among what she deems my more odd tendencies is my affinity for salad in the morning. She – and most everyone else – like starting the day with oatmeal, yogurt, pancakes. (I do, too. Not sure how else to explain this, this, this, and, you know, this whole category.) But I’m also quite content to make breakfast from chopped vegetables, some avocado, a squeeze of lemon, and a hunk of feta cheese.

That’s what I did while living in Israel. If I wasn’t running out the door with a bottle of drinkable goat’s milk yogurt in hand, I was frequently making this salad in the mornings. Frankly, I was making a version of this salad nearly three times a day.

Classic Israeli salad doesn’t have feta or avocado. It’s just tomatoes, cucumber, parsley, lemon, and salt. That’s good, too – but this is better. It’s more luxurious, and more filling. Serve it with pita and some hummus or labneh, and you’ve got a complete meal. For years, this has been my Israeli salad. I’ll happily stuff it into a falafel sandwich, just like real Israeli salad, but I’ll also pile it on wheat toast, taking things in a slightly different (but still delicious) direction.

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Zucchini and Snap Peas with Sesame Oil

rivka — Wed, 29 Jun 2011 18:21:07 +0000

In some sense, it’s hard to come up with anything insightful to say about a dish containing four ingredients, one of which is salt and the other three of which are in this post’s title. On the other hand, one taste had me going on and on about how simple, how delicious, it all was. It’s a dish of contradictions: complex flavor from very few ingredients, a celebration of the bounty of summer with none of the fuss involved in, say, sour cherry pie.

We’re talking about zucchini and snap peas, two of summer’s greatest-hit vegetables. If you’ve seen those very small zucchini at the market and wondered what to do with them, this is the perfect recipe for showing off their shape. (If you can’t find baby zucchini, regular zucchini sliced into thick coins will work just fine.) I’ve spent many summers sauteing zucchini coins in butter; never once did I consider ditching the butter in favor of water. (Ditching butter? Would I ever? No.) But this is an exception: when you’re dealing with summer’s freshest vegetables, at the peak of the season, a little salted water is all you need.

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Pescado a la Veracruzana (Fish, Veracruz Style)

rivka — Fri, 10 Jun 2011 13:33:45 +0000

I grew up in a dairy household. This fact always elicits some “huh”s, lotsa “really?”s and even a few “ugh!”s but that’s the way it was, and I actually didn’t mind it, mostly. About two times a year, I’d really crave meat – but the only real option was takeout from Royal Dragon, the local kosher Chinese joint. It was always eaten on paper, always lukewarm. I taught myself pretty quickly to be satisfied without it.

At Friday night dinner, most of our crowd served chicken, meatballs, brisket. We usually had fish. Salmon teriyaki, tuna with mango salsa, flounder with lemon herb vinaigrette. (Gosh, can you tell I grew up in the nineties?)

If these fish dishes made occasional appearances on our Shabbat table, there was one that was so regular in its appearances, and so beloved, it was practically a part of the family. That dish is Huachinango a la Veracruzana. My mom’s version originated in an unassuming little cookbook called “Latin American Cooking.” It’s a scrawny little volume, doesn’t look like much. The recipes in it are simple and straightforward, and in my totally-not-expert opinion, they seem authentic.

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Gujarati Mango Soup

rivka — Fri, 27 May 2011 14:49:56 +0000

Initially posted on The Jew and the Carrot: www.jcarrot.org.

Walk into any Jewish household on a Friday night, and you’ll have an instant window into that family’s food legacy. The Syrian table is piled high with ka’aks, zucchinis and eggplants stuffed with lamb and beef, beautiful molded rice with blanched almonds, and my favorite, lahmacun, those wonderful flatbreads topped with tamarind-and-tomato drenched ground meat. The Eastern Europeans have lokshen and cabbage, noodle kugel, gefilte fish, and of course, cholent. But come over to my house, and you might be confused: we’ll start with, say, a Moroccan soup called harira. The pièce de résistance, if I’m lucky, is huachinango a la Veracruzana, my favorite preparation of red snapper in a Mexican tomato sauce with onions, olives, currants, hot peppers, and cinnamon. A side of the Indian eggplant curry baingan bartha might round out the meal, and for dessert, my mother’s homemade chocolate croissants. If you’re following along, that makes one American Jew, born and raised in Washington, DC, with relatives from across Eastern Europe, who, along with her mother, is building a cooking legacy on Indian curry, Mexican fish, Moroccan soup, and French pastry.

I don’t come from a strong cooking tradition. It’s possible my great grandmothers slaved over some top-notch borscht, or — in the case of the piece of my family that’s been in the US for seven generations — some excellent apple pie. But I wouldn’t know. My grandmother, who grew up in Chicago, didn’t cook much at all. My Bubby, who grew up in New York and has spent most of her life in Richmond, VA, used to make an excellent Thanksgiving dinner, but her cooking didn’t have a particular perspective or core list of key ingredients.

Color me jealous: I’ve always wanted to come from one of those families with a strong culinary tradition. I’ve longed for native staples – the sorts of ingredients you always have on hand in multiple forms and in massive quantities, that find their way into everything: the Italians’ olive oil and tomatoes; the Indians’ garlic, ginger, and chilies; and so on.

So we weren’t bequeathed a strong culinary heritage by our relatives or our culture; that hasn’t stopped us from building our own. My mother has spent years accruing knowledge of different cultures’ cuisines, acquiring a taste for spice, learning to achieve that balance of spicy, sour, salty, and sweet that makes food — of any origin — great. And ever since I learned to cook, I’ve been trying to follow in her footsteps. Yes, we’re creating our own culinary legacy. Our legacy uses lemon in copious quantities; it doesn’t skimp on the chile; it favors things with pools of zesty tomato-based sauces to be sopped up with good bread; and it always includes something sweet to finish things off.

But there’s more. We love olives, capers, and anchovies, individually or all together in a tapenade that’d make a cook in Provence swoon. And we love Indian flavors; we’ve spent many a meal tasting curries two, three, four times in a row, to decipher their ingredients one by one. As I served an Indian-spiced chilled mango soup to my guests on Friday night — its pale orange surface flecked with black mustard seeds and buoying a dollop of spicy green chutney — I felt connected to a cooking heritage. The people may not be my own people, but the legacy of Indian cooking — the boldness with flavors, the embrace of real, sweat-inducing spice, the mixing of hot and cold together in the same dish — is one I have come to love, and to take as my own. Not being born into a strong cooking tradition may be a blessing in disguise, after all.

Gujarati Mango Soup with Green Chutney
Adapted from a recipe in Amanda Hesser’s The New York Times Essential Cookbook

After initially making this soup, I was concerned it would be cloying, even in small doses. I’d added some lime juice, but it still tasted quite sweet. On a whim, I made this green chutney (below), and its fresh, green heat complements the soup perfectly.

2 tablespoons chickpea flour
1/8 teaspoon ground turmeric
3/4 teaspoon ground cumin
3/4 teaspoon ground coriander
1/2 cup plain whole milk yogurt (Greek is best)
3 cups canned mango pulp or mashed fresh mango pulp (1 mango yields between 3/4 and 1 cup of pulp)
1 1/4 teaspoons salt
1/2 teaspoon sugar (may need more if using fresh mangos)
1 jalapeno pepper, chopped (I used all the seeds. If you prefer less spice, omit seeds and membrane)
2 tablespoons peanut or corn oil
Generous pinch ground asafoetida
1/2 teaspoon whole brown mustard seeds
1/2 teaspoon whole cumin seeds
2 whole hot dried red chilies
1/8 teaspoon whole fenugreek seeds
10 fresh curry leaves (optional)
Juice of 1 lime

Put the chickpea flour, turmeric, and ground cumin in a bowl. Fill a measuring cup with 1/2 cup of water, and add a couple tablespoons to the flour mixture, stirring carefully until the flour is a smooth paste with no clumps.

Add more water very slowly, ensuring an even consistency as you stir.

Once enough water has been added that the chickpea flour has been fully incorporated into the liquid with no lumps, add the rest of the water and stir to combine. Whisk in yogurt, mango, and 2 more cups water. Add salt, sugar, and fresh chilies. Mix well.

Put oil in a heavy-bottomed medium pot over medium heat. When oil is very hot, add the asafoetida, and then — in quick succession — the mustard seeds, cumin seeds, dried chilies, fenugreek seeds, and curry leaves (if using). Have a splatter screen on hand: the mustard seeds will pop almost immediately after being added.

As soon as you have added the above ingredients, remove from heat and add mango mixture. Stir to combine, return to medium heat, and simmer for 5 minutes, stirring. Then remove from heat, cover, and allow to steep for 30 minutes.

At this point, you can either reheat the soup to serve warm, or do as I did, and refrigerate it to be served cold. Either way, strain the soup through a coarse sieve, then spoon some of the smaller seeds from the strainer back into the soup. Immediately before serving, stir the lime juice into the soup.

Serve soup in small bowls, with a spoonful of the chutney in each.

Spicy Green Chutney
Adapted from a recipe by Madhur Jaffrey

2 tablespoons lemon or lime juice (lime is preferable)
1 small tomato, diced
3/4 teaspoon salt
3 fresh hot green chilies, such as bird’s eye or jalapeno (can start with 2 and add to taste)
2/3 cup fresh chopped cilantro
1/3 cup fresh chopped mint
1/2 cup grated coconut, fresh or frozen and defrosted

This chutney can be made rustic in a mortar and pestle, or smooth in a blender.

Combine 3 tablespoons water, lime juice, tomatoes, salt, and chilies. Mash or blend until combined or smooth.

Add cilantro and mint; mash together or blend until smooth.

Finally, add coconut and blend or mix more, until chutney is fully mixed or completely smooth. Serve cold.

Chutney will keep in the refrigerator for a few days, but will keep for months in the freezer.

Many of the ingredients in each of these recipes are available online at Kalustyans.com.

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Bulgur with Asparagus and Preserved Lemon Dressing

rivka — Thu, 12 May 2011 15:42:09 +0000

This is the latest my Weekday Lunch series, where I share recipes suited to home or office.

[Sheepishly:] Remember me?

Sorry it’s been so long since I’ve posted something fresh. I’ve been too busy at work to cook, and unless y’all wanted to read about the take-out pad thai I ate for dinner all of last week, I didn’t have much to share.

But now work has calmed down, and my new-found freedom coincides nicely with some of the most awesomely beautiful days DC’s had in a while. Sun-plus-breeze is something DC gets only about 4 days a year, and I’m determined to be outside for all of them.

Last Sunday got me to my first farmers’ market in a long while. I picked up some beautiful asparagus – bunches and bunches; people, I can’t control myself – as well as some ramps, green garlic, and heavy cream, which my favorite dairy stand just started carrying. It’d be a great food week even if you didn’t compare to the last couple, but in light of those dim days full of takeout, I’m high on fresh produce.

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Simplest Asparagus with Fresh Peas

rivka — Wed, 04 May 2011 13:10:45 +0000

From the archives, just in time for my favorite vegetable to hit the market. Enjoy!

The markets are back open, the cherry blossoms are in full bloom, and I can almost forgive the swarms of tourists and the row of port-o-potties that totally block the view along the tidal basin, because spring has sprung! Thrills.

After a long winter of stews and soups, rice dishes and noodle bowls, I crave the fresh simplicity of spring produce. When a Sunday at the market sends me home with asparagus, fresh shelling peas, rhubarb, and (cross your fingers!) ramps, I try to prepare meals in a no-frills manner, letting the vegetables speak for themselves. Why kill fresh peas with a gloppy sauce? Why bury asparagus in soup or risotto? Leave those more involved, less spare recipes for another time. These first spring vegetables should be celebrated, I tell you.

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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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Curried Kohlrabi and Apple Slaw

rivka — Wed, 15 Dec 2010 15:00:10 +0000

Every year, sometime in late November, we turn on our heat, move the sweaters to the top drawer, dig up our tights and fleece-lined slippers, …and stop eating salads.

It’s silly, really. Once the cold sets in, and my cravings for fresh, red tomatoes are a faint mystery, all I can think about is stew and soup, tea and cider. Might a salad go perfectly with my black bean chili? Why yes, yes it would. Do I make one? No, no I don’t. The chill kills my appetite for fresh leaves, replaces it with a deep-belly hunger for soy-marinated kale and spicy, savory pasta dishes like this one. But I’m right on cue. Around December, I suddenly remember winter vegetable slaw, and everything changes.

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Green Beans with Horseradish-Mustard Vinaigrette

rivka — Wed, 17 Nov 2010 15:58:51 +0000

This is the first of a series of posts about great sides for Thanksgiving and year-round — stay tuned for more as we approach the big day!

For my money, this is the quintessential side. Flavor-wise, it’s totally in keeping with Thanksgiving tastes. The horseradish helps cut all that sweet, fatty Tday food, and the mustard reinforces for a one-two punch of spice. And at a meal where salad is the wallflower, green beans are more formidable company for that big turkey and the boat full of gravy occupying everyone’s attention.

If that’s not enough to lure you, other benefits include its ease and speed of preparation (it takes 10 minutes flat) and its willingness to hang out for a few days before serving. Really, what more can you ask for?

I make these green beans year round, but they’re especially great on Tday. Go forth and eat.

Green Beans with Horseradish-Mustard Vinaigrette
serves 4 as a side

1 pound green beans
1 tablespoon spicy whole-grain mustard
1 tablespoon prepared horseradish (I make mine by blending horseradish root with vinegar)
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1/3 cup olive oil
salt and pepper
1/2 cup sliced almonds

Preheat oven to 350º. Spread almonds in a single layer and toast until golden, about 10 minutes. Watch them carefully so they don’t burn.

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Fill a large bowl with ice cubes and water. Working in batches, cook beans in boiling water just until cooked but still crisp, about 2 minutes per batch. Transfer cooked beans to bowl of ice water to “shock” them and stop them from cooking further. Continue cooking and shocking process with remaining batches of beans. Transfer beans to separate bowl and chill. You’ll be serving the beans at room temperature, so chill only enough that they’re no longer hot.

Meanwhile, prepare vinaigrette. Mix horseradish, mustard, red wine vinegar, and lemon juice. Add oil in steady stream while whisking, until all oil has been added and vinaigrette is emulsified.

Transfer green beans to a serving platter. Drizzle vinaigrette over beans, top with toasted almonds, and serve at room temperature.

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Peach Tomato Gazpacho

rivka — Fri, 17 Sep 2010 13:36:05 +0000

Ok y’all, I’m a bit late posting this, and you’ll have to forgive me. But then – and I mean immediately; do not pass go, do not wait for September to drift into fall – you must get off the couch and make this soup.

Just last week, the dog days of summer seemed a permanent fixture. Now, as I’m walking to the farmers’ market, I find myself rubbing my hands together, picking up that pace a bit, and reaching for….a cardigan. Fall’s crept up on me again. Every year, I bemoan the end of tomatoes and nectarines, my shortsighted lack of urgency in eating as many of those beautiful beefsteaks and heirlooms as possible. Now I’m making a mad dash for those tomatoes, eating a peach after lunch every day and one in the evening as well, trying to cram as much of the rapidly depleting summer produce down my craw as time will allow.

My fridge is only so large; not, apparently, large enough; those 5 pounds of peaches that I bought last week have softened, ripened, and softened some more. Last night, I came home to some peaches practically begging to be eaten. Ditto the beautiful red tomatoes, which, seemingly suddenly, after a short stay on my counter (never store tomatoes in the fridge; it ruins them), were near-overripe.

I didn’t have quite enough tomatoes to make a sauce-making project worthwhile. As for the peaches, in the past week, I’d made two cakes and a crostada with them and some nectarines. I needed a change of pace.

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Kimchi

rivka — Sun, 12 Sep 2010 21:41:20 +0000

Sometimes, a post writes itself. As I was piling the big heap of pickled cabbage into my largest mason jar, I thought of all the times I’d pigged out on Kimchi in the past, all those times I’d been absolutely sure there was no way to make this stuff at home. I remembered the moment I’d received David Chang’s Momofuku cookbook, how excited I was to discover that there was a recipe for kimchi — a very easy, very doable recipe, involving no more than ten minutes of active prep time. I recalled how few recipes on this site are inspired by East Asia, how frustrated that’s made me over the years, considering how prominently East Asian flavors figure into my home cooking and, to an even greater extent, my eating out. And I knew that as soon as work calmed down and Rosh Hashana had passed, I’d be telling you about this one-bowl dish that’s quickly become a staple in my kitchen.

Like lacto-fermented pickles, the things that make kimchi so delicious are (mostly) environmental. Exposure to air and time turn the mixture of cabbage, chili, fish sauce, salt, and sugar into something much more intriguing than the individual components might suggest. Some of the kimchi I’ve had at restaurants has been overly pungent or funky, too sharply salty or sour, without proper balance. My favorite kimchi in the DC metro area, from the Annandale restaurant Ye Chon, is very good, but it sometimes lacks that hint of sweetness that balances the sour, salty, and spicy flavors and keeps your chopsticks coming back for more. Chang’s kimchi gets that balance just right.

The most time-intensive part of this recipe is the shopping. If you don’t already have fish sauce, you’ll need to buy some. Don’t be seduced by the tiny bottles they sell at Whole Foods; to make this properly, you’ll need the stuff that comes in the big bottle (a bottle usually has between 3-6 cups worth). Yes, it’s another thing to store in the fridge, and I get that that’s a turn-off. And yes, I’m aware that fish sauce can smell like dirty socks. Have you already clicked away? No? I promise that kimchi reins in the funk of the fish sauce, and that the result will smell nothing like the locker room. My favorite fish sauce brands are Squid and Three Crabs, but anything you find at Hmart or an Asian grocer will be totally fine.

Another key ingredient is Korean chili powder, also called Kochukaru. I went to Hmart (the Asian grocery) in search of something by that name, and saw only pounds and pounds of “chili powder.” Turns out, all the chili powder in the Korean aisle at Hmart is kochukaru. If you ask, the ladies behind the register will tell you it’s what they use to make kimchi. You want the coarsely ground stuff. The last special ingredient is jarred salted shrimp, which I didn’t use (I keep a kosher home, which means no shellfish). My kimchi was still delicious.

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Summer Squash Couscous with Sultanas, Pistachios, and Mint

rivka — Tue, 10 Aug 2010 14:15:39 +0000

My newest hero? The Internet Cooking Princess. Have you seen her blog? I hope you’ll clicking over there and check it out. The retro look is lovely, the recipes are top-notch, and her voice is funny and fresh. Also: she made up this couscous salad recipe, and it has become my food of summer.

I took a first look at this recipe and thought, yep — this is totally something I would make. Hook, line and sinker, I was sold. But examining the recipe more closely, I noticed all sorts of little touches that — how do you say? — I’d never have thought to do.

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Taco Night Coleslaw

rivka — Wed, 21 Jul 2010 14:00:16 +0000

Taco night is a perennial favorite. It’s an easy meal to prepare, most components can be prepared well in advance, and if you make it for a dinner party, you’ll be feasting on leftovers for days. When I say “taco night,” of course, I’m referring to that generic category of weeknight suppers, including but not limited to tacos, fajitas, burritos, and anything else involving tortillas, fillings, and toppings of your choice.

In case you’re at a loss for where to start, here’s my go-to iteration of Tex-Mex dinner: I serve warm flour tortillas, refried beans, sauteed peppers and onions, cabbage slaw with lime and chile, and salsa, guacamole, and queso fresco to top it all off. It’s a regular feast.

And please, don’t let me cramp your style: the possibilities aren’t limited to beans and whatnot. If you’re not a fan of the legumes, pan-fry some chicken, fish, or beef slices over high heat until charred, squeeze a lime juice and sprinkle some salt and pepper, and you’ve got yourself a taco or fajita filling.

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Cucumber-Avocado Soup

rivka — Fri, 04 Jun 2010 13:02:16 +0000

No food-friendly home is without its strange culinary rituals, and mine is no exception. Just ask a recent house guest, who during her 3-day stay caught me in the kitchen before 7 am in wet hair and a bathrobe on two separate occasions, cooking not eggs and toast as the normal people do, but strawberry-chili jam and walnut chocolate chip cookies. I like making elaborate things early in the morning; I’m a total weirdo.

Take another odd ritual in chez NDP: when summer rolls around, I start awkwardly hoarding empty yogurt tubs, filling them as quickly as possible with all sorts of cold summer soups: white gazpacho and chilled corn soup and more. Why I can’t use tupperware like the rest of earthlings, I don’t know. All I know is that cold soup ladled from recycled yogurt tubs on a hot and humid summer day makes me grin big.

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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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Spinach Bourekas

rivka — Thu, 04 Feb 2010 14:24:24 +0000

At some point last year, I fell off the puff pastry cliff. It all started with this onion-date tart, one of the best and easiest recipes I’ve ever written. I made it once, twice, three times, and more; I couldn’t stop. I’d tweak a thing or two every time: I’d add mushrooms, swap the goat cheese for feta, add some roasted red peppers, etc. The tart never failed to please, so I just didn’t stop making it.

From there, I branched out to other similar tarts, like this one with zucchini and olives. Why hadn’t I thought of this sooner? Why had it taken so long to realize that when you pile delicious stuff on a buttery piece of dough and bake it off, the results are…delicious?

Just when I thought I’d had my revelation, D had had just about enough. She finally confessed that she hated all these tarts — these big pieces of flaky dough meant to pose as entrees — and that if I could stop making them, forever, that’dbegreatthanks. I was bummed: had I reached the end of puff pastry heaven so quickly? Without it, what else would I make? There was NOTHING else to make! Nothing but puff pastry! AACK!

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Down and Dirty Pasta e Cecci

rivka — Thu, 28 Jan 2010 14:00:01 +0000

Anything that has the words “down and dirty” in the title is something I will, sooner or later, make. “Down and dirty” suggests a rough-and-tumble version of the refined original, something you’re more likely to eat on your front stoop than in a dining room. When I hear down and dirty, I see myself in cutoff jean shorts and one of those ribbed white tank tops, sitting outside on a balmy summer day. There are mosquitos in the air, bangs in my face. I’m eating from a clay bowl I threw in the pottery studio down the street. When lunchtime rolls around, I notice some chickpeas in the cabinet, so I decide to throw them in with some chili, anchovies, and pasta, and call it lunch. Down and dirty lunch, that is.

Surely you can understand how, when I saw a recipe for “down and dirty pasta e cecci” on Food52′s website (via Jennifer Steinhauser of NYT, via her friend fisheri — that’s his username, not his real name — oh, the confusion!), I simply had to make it. Mind you, I didn’t even know what “cecci” were. I don’t speak Italian. But down and dirty pasta is something that best be coming out of my kitchen, like, pronto.

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Moroccan Salmon with Curried Yogurt

rivka — Mon, 25 Jan 2010 14:00:33 +0000

Though it doesn’t appear very often on this site, fish — salmon in particular — is a staple in the NDP kitchen. I like it because it’s a substantial cornerstone of a meal without being as heavy as meat often is. I frequently host lunch on Saturdays, and I almost always cook for these lunches in advance; salmon can be served cold with a dipping sauce, obviating the need to carefully par-bake it before reheating the next day to serve. Also, it’s delicious.

Last year, I frequently cooked fish “en papillote,” each filet wrapped with care in its own little parcel of parchment paper. It’s a very healthful way of cooking fish, in its own juices and little else. Sometimes I’d add slivers of thai bird chillies or slices of peach, but the method was always the same. This year, I’m planning to broil my fish more often. That little spot at the bottom of my oven doesn’t get enough airtime, and considering its ability to make sugar into caramel and turn anything that beautiful shade of brown, it really should.

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Lynne Rossetto Kasper’s Thai Cabbage Salad with Cashews and Chili-Coconut Dressing

rivka — Fri, 22 Jan 2010 14:54:34 +0000

Not everyday is as productive as last Friday. In about 2 hours, I made a fantastic salad, discovered a new cooking technique, and finally learned how to achieve that elusive sweet-salty-tangy-spicy balance in a Thai vinaigrette. It’s all thanks to Lynn Rossetto Kasper. As if I’m surprised.

I am a huge fan of Lynn Rossetto Kasper. I’m a loyal listener to her “The Splendid Table” podcast, and I absolutely loved her pithy and clever “How to Eat Supper” podcasts, which she co-hosted with TST producer Sally Swift (until recently, when they suddenly stopped coming out…) So I’m sort of embarrassed to admit that it took me until last week to sign up for Lynn’s “Weeknight Kitchen” newsletter. Now maybe it’s too soon to pass judgement, seeing as I’ve only gotten two issues. But this is Lynn Rossetto Kasper. Every recipe is a run-to-your-kitchen recipe. As expected, just one day after the email landed in my inbox, I was at the counter, surrounded by heaps of green cabbage.

The recipe in last week’s edition was for a Thai cabbage salad with tofu, cashews, and pineapple. D was quick to point out that I cut my pineapple slices so large as to intimidate my guests (sorry, ya’ll! Hope the yellow didn’t scare you away) so in the future, I’ll make my pineapple more….welcoming. But aside from that, I found this salad delightful. It’s got really well-layered flavor: the bitter freshness of cabbage, the tangy sweetness of pineapple, a generous handful of cashews, scallions and herbs, and a biting vinaigrette rounded out with fish sauce (one of Lynn’s favorite ingredients: it’s got tons of umami, or glutamate, which helps give that extra something to…well, almost anything.)

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Graham Crackers

rivka — Thu, 14 Jan 2010 13:00:13 +0000

D’s stepmom, Terri, has an absolute weakness for graham crackers. She says they’re the one thing she absolutely can’t keep in the house, because once she opens the package, she’ll eat every last one. I learned this on our recent trip to Israel, and was pleased to be able to reply that in my bag, I just so happened to have two homemade graham crackers that I’d packed as a plane snack. Naturally, her eyes bulged. I bounded up the stairs and grabbed them immediately.

It had all started innocently enough: having given in several times the previous week to sugary, buttery shortbread and chocolate chip cookies and really so much more, I was determined to bake a snack that would satisfy my sweet tooth without pushing me over the edge. That whole “new year, new habits” thing has nothing to do with it, promise.

Graham crackers were the perfect choice. (They’re called crackers — how bad could they be?) I made a batch a couple days before we left; I gave a few away as holiday presents, and the rest I played around with. Some got a one-sided dunking in chocolate, others became sandwiches.

The cookies were just perfect. They were addictively crunchy, and the addition of whole wheat flour gave them a rustic, graham-y quality. And don’t forget the generous dusting of cinnamon sugar to finish them off.

Now Terri wasn’t all that enthused by the graham crackers, because the particular pair I’d brought were sandwiching a thick layer of intensely brown caramel, which overpowered the rather subtle flavor of the graham crackers. I liked ‘em just fine, but I probably won’t make them again. Graham crackers are meant to be simple, the kind of thing you munch alongside a steaming cup of tea. They satisfy a sweet craving just perfectly, no caramel or chocolate needed.

Graham Crackers
adapted ever so slightly from The Washington Post

For the graham crackers

9 tablespoons plus 1 teaspoon unsalted butter, at room temperature
3/4 cup plus 1 tablespoon sugar
3/4 cup plus 1 tablespoon flour, plus more for rolling
1 1/3 cups whole-wheat flour
4 teaspoons baking powder
3/4 teaspoon salt
6 tablespoons whole or low-fat buttermilk or milk

For the topping (optional)

1 cup sugar
1 tablespoon ground cinnamon

Combine the butter and sugar in the bowl of a stand mixer or hand-held electric mixer. Beat on medium speed until light.

Combine the flours, baking powder and salt on a sheet of parchment paper or wax paper.

Reduce the speed to low; add the flour mixture, then the buttermilk, in several increments, ending with the flour; beat to form a soft dough. Divide the mixture in half, then wrap each portion in plastic wrap. Refrigerate for 1 hour or until well chilled.

For the topping (if using): Combine the sugar and cinnamon in a bowl.

Position oven racks in the upper and lower thirds of the oven; preheat to 325 degrees. Line 2 rimmed baking sheets with parchment paper.

Lightly flour a work surface. Working with 1/2 portion at a time (keeping the others chilled), lightly flour the top of the dough. Roll out to a rectangle with a thickness of slightly less than 1/4 inch. Use cookie cutters to cut into shapes, or use a sharp knife and a ruler to cut the dough into 2-by-3-inch rectangles. Alternatively, use a scalloped cutter to give your cookies a wavy edge. (I did this on batch number 2.) Prick each cookie two or three times with a fork, and place the unbaked crackers on the baking sheets, spaced 1/4 inch apart. Sprinkle evenly with the topping, if using.

Bake for 6 to 8 minutes, then rotate the baking sheets top to bottom and front to back. Bake for 6 to 9 minutes, until golden brown and baked through. Let cool on the baking sheets before serving or storing.

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Crispy Kale Chips

rivka — Fri, 08 Jan 2010 02:35:43 +0000

Hello there readers, and hello 2010! I’m back from Israel and hope you enjoyed the dispatches from abroad. In truth, there’s so much more to tell: a dear friend took D and me on a fabulous tour of the Old City’s Christian Quarter, where we ate amazingly fresh hummus, climbed down to secret underground cisterns, and visited a tucked-away Austrian hospice for excellent cappucinos and Jerusalem’s best apple streudel. And that was just one morning!

But now we’re back to the grind, and besides, you must be tired of my rants about my travels. You come here for recipes, and I aim to please. So let’s talk about kale chips, shall we?

I think I first read about crispy kale in the late Gourmet Mag. The recipe was as simple as they come — kale, olive oil, salt, pepper — and accompanying it were stunning photos of long, evergreen-colored leaves shooting out of a tall glass. Gourmet said the kale was the perfect cocktail party food, and looking at the pictures, I had to agree. I could envision these beautiful vases of kale chips placed on a long table, giving height to the usual array of flat cookie platters and cheese plates. Yum.

One evening, I had a bunch of kale to use up and decided to give the recipe a go. If it was a success, I figured, I’d make it at my next dinner party; the beautiful chips were certain to impress.

But then I ate one.

Can we discuss the fact that my entire mouth, like every single tooth, had green flecks all about? And flecks is an understatement. I might as well have colored my smile with green marker, it was that bad. Cocktail party food my #$@*^%!!! Kale chips are absolutely delicious — they’re crispy, and salty, and perfectly peppery, utterly addictive in short — but they’re something to be eaten at home alone, or with someone who really, really likes you. Either way, be prepared to laugh.

Don’t let me green teeth scare you away completely, though: these kale chips truly are delicious. If any of you have made New Year’s resolutions to eat more vegetables, consider this recipe a belated holiday gift. You can easily polish off an entire batch of kale this way.

Kale Chips
adapted from Gourmet

These chips are delicious just so, but they really pop with a last-minute squeeze of lemon, if you have it handy.

1 bunch kale, cleaned and dried, center stems removed
olive oil
salt
pepper
wedge of lemon, optional

Put the kale in a large plastic bag, drizzle about 1/8 cup olive oil inside, and shake and massage to combine. Add more oil to the bag as needed until all leaves are coated in the oil. Spread kale leaves in a single layer on as many baking sheets as you need, and sprinkle generously with salt and pepper. Bake at 300 for 20-25 minutes, until kale is crispy all over. Cooking time depends on age and dryness of kale, so watch carefully and remove when every piece is crispy. Serve immediately, and squeeze lemon overtop just before serving, if desired.

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Brussels Sprouts with Sriracha, Honey, and Lime

rivka — Mon, 21 Dec 2009 20:59:27 +0000

When the New Yorker lands in my mailbox each Tuesday, the first thing I read is the weekly restaurant write-up, Tables for Two. It’s short and sweet, and usually contains a brief description of one or two stand-out dishes. Every once in a while, I hear one of the descriptions and think, that sounds like something I should try to make. Even more rarely than that, I actually get off my derriere and try to make one of the recipes. This is one of those times.

The idea came from The Vanderbilt, a restaurant in Prospect Heights. According to the New Yorker, “the best dish might be the roasted Brussels sprouts, dressed with sriracha, lime, and honey, each bite a perfect combination of sweet, spicy, and tart.” They really did sound perfect, and given a) how simple the ingredient list sounded and b) the fact that I happened to have all four aformentioned ingredients in my house, I decided to give it a go. What better use of a snow day than turning dish descriptions into great food?

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Brussels Sprouts with “Bacon” and Pears

rivka — Mon, 07 Dec 2009 01:15:24 +0000

Yet another installment of my Weekday Lunch series, where I share recipes suited for home or the office.

Last Wednesday night, a colleague of mine had a pre-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving party. The idea is brilliant. Since most of us spend Tday with anyone from parents and siblings to in-laws and cousins twice removed, might as well take the night before to be with friends and surrogate family members, and to toast the holiday in style. And that’s just what we did. We ate butter chicken (spicy!) and Brussels sprouts with apples and the most trashy-chic tater tot casserole; we pigged out on pecan bars (from yours truly) and bread pudding and phenomenal ricotta cheesecake; and we washed it all down with lots and lots of bourbon. There truly is no better way to usher in Thanksgiving.

The next day, having landed in Detroit to spend the weekend with D’s family, those Brussels sprouts were still on my mind. They were perfectly caramelized, much softer in the middle than I usually make them, and speckled with little chunks of roasted apple, which provided the perfect sweet, tangy contrast to the smoky and just-barely-bitter sprouts.

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Broccoli with Capers and Olives, Two Ways

rivka — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 13:43:44 +0000

Finally, the next chapter of “Weekday Lunch,” where I offer recipes for food that fits in tupperware and warms in the office microwave.

This dish happened completely by accident. D had decided to order a pizza for dinner, and I decided to do something else, seeing as it would have been my fourth pizza meal of the week. (Ugh.) I did a quick scan of the fridge and saw a bag of nice-looking young broccoli that I’d picked up at the weekend farmers’ market. I also had the last of a tub of greek olives that I’d recently replaced with a new tub and wanted to use up, and the end of a jar of summer’s tomato sauce. There was about 1/4 of a box of macaroni left in the cupboard, so I figured I’d throw the last little bits of each of these to make a nice pasta dinner.

I started by finely chopping a shallot and heating a tab of butter in a large, shallow pan over medium-low heat. When the shallot was translucent and fragrant but not brown, I added about 1/2 teaspoon of red chili flakes and 2 cups of broccoli. I knew I planned to cook the broccoli just until al dente, but I wanted to use the stems as well as the florets, so I sliced the stems pretty finely — about 1/3-1/2-inch thick — so that they’d cook pretty quickly. I added a hefty pinch of salt and tossed the pan a couple times to combine.

Soon after adding the broccoli, I tossed in what was left of the olives, probably about 1/2 cup worth. I also added about a tablespoon of capers. At this point, the broccoli was heating up and had turned a vibrant shade of green. I wanted to preserve this color, so I added a very little bit of water from the pasta, which had already started to cook. Non-pasta water would have been fine as well, but it helps to have the water be hot, so that it doesn’t slow down the cooking.

After about five minutes, the broccoli was almost perfect; still that beautiful green shade, mostly cooked but still with a bite. I ended up adding several ladlefuls of my tomato sauce, and eventually some hot pasta, to make this dinner. But before tomatoes ever hit the pan, I looked down at the broccoli with its briny accompaniments and thought, gosh, this’d make a fantastic side. So there you have it; broccoli with capers and olives. I’d probably squeeze a bit of lemon if I were serving this alone; hitting it with some acidity would compliment the vegetal and salty flavors. I could see it served atop israeli couscous, or as an accompaniment to chicken. It was also pretty great mixed with tomato sauce and tossed with the end of the box of macaroni. Just sayin’.

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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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Pickles!

rivka — Fri, 25 Sep 2009 22:30:48 +0000

Folks, I’m finding it hard to contain my excitement about NDP’s second-ever guest post. Guess who wrote it? MY MOM!

That’s right: in the post below, NDP Ima tells you all about easy-to-make, hard-to-stop-eating pickles. You’ll see from her intro paragraph where I got my taste buds. These pickles are salty, tangy, and really bright from the addition of fresh dill. So read up — then go make some pickles!

I am really not a salt lover. I don’t use much when I cook, and in restaurants great food that’s well-seasoned is often too salty for my taste. I don’t care for chips or french fries, and I prefer nuts spicy or au naturel. Nonetheless, I do love briny salty things – olives, capers, and sour pickles. So when I was leaving town for a long weekend and had a lot of small cucumbers that wouldn’t last until my return, I decided to try my hand at some pickles. I wanted spicy, garlicky, dill pickles that would make themselves in the refrigerator while I was gone. I remembered the ones a family friend used to make with cucumbers from his garden and my dad’s. He didn’t use shortcuts, though – he put his pickles in huge crocks of brine and alum in the basement for weeks.

I cut the cukes into thick, chunky slices and placed them in a quart jar with pickling spices and garlic. I didn’t have any fresh dill, so my first batch just had dill seed from the pickling spice, but it still tasted authentic. I prepared the vinegar brine and filled the jar, leaving it upside down on the counter overnight. The next morning, before rushing to the airport, I put the jar in the frig. When I returned four nights later, the pickles were done to perfection!
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Salmon with Herb Butter and Various Roasted Vegetables

rivka — Sun, 13 Sep 2009 20:01:05 +0000

D and I had people over Friday night. As of Thursday, I not only had done no cooking, I hadn’t even figured out my menu. Now, I’m not one to plan these things all too far in advance — but 24 hours is not much time to plan, shop, and make food for a dinner party. Not impossible, but not ideal.

When I’m cutting it close to the wire, I tend to keep it as simple as possible. I picked up a bunch of salmon fillets and all the good-looking vegetables that TJs had to offer. Without much time to contemplate interesting recipes and a lingering fear of making the whole house smell like fish, I wrapped each piece of salmon individually in parchment paper and tucked a bit of herb butter inside. The herb butter infuses the salmon while it steams, and the end result is both healthy, flavorful, and much less potent. No fish smell whatsoever in the house as of Saturday morning.

I made a vinaigrette with the herb butter, some capers, and lots of lemon and lime, and served it alongside the fish. In retrospect, I should have just made the vinaigrette first and skipped the herb butter step entirely; that’s the recipe I provide below. It’s a simple presentation that almost always pleases.

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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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Smoky Corn Salad

rivka — Mon, 31 Aug 2009 02:42:28 +0000

So sorry that posts have been so few and far between (and so short) lately. I’m doing my best to offer some great summer suggestions between work and work — bear with me; just two more weeks of this insanity, and I’ll be back on track.

Meanwhile, hopefully you’re taking advantage of the last of summer’s produce more than I am. If you find yourself swimming in corn, this smoky number is a great variation on the corn salad theme. It combines raw corn that’s charred in a smoking castiron pan, poblanos that are cooked over an open flame to remove the skins and intensify their flavor, a bit of red onion, and of course, some of those delightfully plump and round cherry tomatoes that are so good this time of year. The method is so simple it’s a joke: just char everything in the castiron pan all together, and add the tomatoes just before serving. It’s just the way to take advantage of summer’s abundance. Have a plate in my honor, and once I crawl out from under this rock, I’ll be back in the kitchen in no time.

Smoky Corn Salad

3 ears of corn, husks and fibers removed
1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
1/4 of a red onion, diced
2 poblano peppers
1/2 a jalapeno, diced, optional
1/4 tsp. smoked spanish paprika
olive oil
salt
pepper
1 lime

Roast poblanos over an open flame, turning to blister skin on all sides. When fully blistered, turn off heat and transfer peppers to a paper bag or roll inside tinfoil. let steam for 5 minutes, then run under water to remove skins. Chop roughly and set aside.

Heat castiron or heavy stainless steel pan over high heat. Remove corn from cob, and combine with chopped onions and jalapeno, if using. Add 1 tablespoon olive oil to pan and immediately add corn mixture. Toss to coat, then let sit for a 30 seconds at a time just to develop a real char on the kernels. Add smoked paprika, and add salt to taste. Keep tossing and charring, tossing and charring, until there are enough brown spots to give some serious smoky flavor. Remove from heat, add tomatoes, and toss to combine. Transfer to a plate, and squeeze 1 fresh lime overtop. Serve warm or at room temperature.

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Not So Potato-y Salad

rivka — Sun, 09 Aug 2009 08:42:11 +0000

From a vege-mostly-tarian’s perspective, spring and summer are the seasons to beat. Fresh fruit and vegetables are available in abundance, and the variety, especially in summer, is simply unmatched. I make at least one salad a day; using anything from the usual lettuce and Israeli cucumbers to radishes to carrots to tomatoes and nectarines, mushrooms and garlic scapes and beets and even raw kale (my newest addition), I rarely repeat ingredients two days in a row.

It’s in this light that barbeque food confuses the hell out of me; why, when there are so many beautiful fruits and vegetables available, do we resort to coleslaws and potato salads that are literally choking on my gloppy, quivering, nemesis, the devil named Mayo? Those thick, white dressings are a “no, thanks” for me, but if we’re going to use them, why not when we’re on our 20th batch of kale and need to get creative about masking the taste of winter? I simply don’t get the desire to coat delicious summer vegetables in all that goop. …And the Mayo gripes resume.

While I almost always serve a leafy green salad with meals these days, I did buy some really beautiful tiny tomatoes at the Foggy Bottom market last week, which gave me an occasion to reconsider the merits of potato salad. I’m not a huge potato person, but I get the appeal of having a side dish that’s got some starch and substance but isn’t the same old rice or other grain. However, instead of putting the potatoes front and center, I decided to make room for other vegetables to share the limelight. Happily, the market provided many options. I settled on some pattypan, small summer squash that are shaped somewhat like a flying saucer, as well as some nice-looking green beans.

After boiling, shocking, and slicing the potatoes, I sliced and blanched the zucchini. I left the green beans raw, for crunch, and I’m glad I did — they provided a much-needed contrast to the softer vegetables. I coated the salad in a light, tangy, slightly spicy shallot-mustard vinaigrette, which complemented the slight bitterness of the zucchini and gave otherwise boring potatoes some real character. All in all, this is the type of potato salad I’d actually go for: it highlights summer produce instead of masking it, and its tangy flavors will make a great addition to any barbeque.

Not So Potato-y Salad

1 pound small (like, really small) red and yellow potatoes
2 long summer squash (yellow or green), sliced into 1/2-inch slices
1 pound green beans, halved
2 shallots, diced finely
2 teaspoons coarse dijon mustard
1 teaspoon honey
1/4 cup sherry or white wine vinegar
1/8 cup olive oil
1 teaspoon walnut oil, optional
salt and pepper

Boil potatoes in 4 cups water until soft but not mushy, about 10 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, remove potatoes and transfer to serving bowl. Let cool 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, blanch squash slices in potato water about 2 minutes, just until soft. Drain and run under cold water for a couple seconds to stop cooking. Transfer to serving bowl.

Slice potatoes into rounds, and transfer to serving bowl. Add green beans and toss to mix.

In a small bowl or dressing jar, combine all remaining ingredients except oil. Pour oil in a slow stream, whisking to combine. If using jar, shake vigorously to emulsify. Add dressing to salad and toss about 10 minutes before serving. Serve at room temperature.

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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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Maple Walnut Oatmeal with Peaches

rivka — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 22:54:55 +0000

My breakfast habits usually vary from season to season. I tend to alternate between Terri and Kendall’s go-to oatmeal recipe (oats, water, agave syrup, wheat germ, and flax seeds) and toast with an egg and fake bacon during the winter. During summertime, though, it’s all about yogurt. There are few things I love more than yogurt — especially that uber tart and rich stuff that I make at home — and I eat it very, very often during the hot months. Until this week. See, I bought a little container of good organic yogurt and a gallon of organic whole milk, stepped up on a stool to pull down my yogurt maker from its above-the-fridge hiding place, and set out to make some yogurt, but for some reason, the batch emerged looking nothing like yogurt and everything like watery curds. My big yogurtFAIL kind of killed my buzz. That’s when I remembered the half tub of oatmeal leftover from wintertime, sitting on the fridge all by its lonesome. So I threw some in the microwave and called it a morning.

But then I decided, as long as I’m breaking my breakfast routine, I may as well go nuts. I remembered something a friend once told me, about how oatmeal can actually be a thoroughly luxurious food. Channeling her mention of luxury, I added a generous tab of butter I got at the farmers’ market last week to my oats and water. After heating the oatmeal through, I tossed in some fresh cut peaches, a glug or two of really good milk from the market, a teaspoon or so of maple syrup, and — wait for it — just a slight drizzle of walnut oil. The result was simply divine. The walnut oil played up the nutty sweetness of the maple syrup, while the subtly sweet richness of the butter and milk provided contrast for those perfectly bright peach slices. I don’t usually do double-flips over oatmeal, but this is one recipe that’ll have me reaching for that tub of oats, even when there’s edible yogurt in the fridge.
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Sardine and Fava Bean Bruschetta

rivka — Fri, 03 Jul 2009 20:05:47 +0000

I can’t remember if I’ve ever written a love song to favas on this blog. I mean, I’ve written about them, but I probably haven’t sung their praises as much as they deserve. Starting in late May, I bother the farmers at my local market every Sunday, trying to subtly nudge them to pick their favas as soon as they’re ready so I can dig in. The first few weeks, I’m met with transparently frustrated replies of “they’re not ready, lady!” but around the second week in June, out they come. From them on, you’ll find me and my tote bags by the fava bin. That’s right.

Favas come double-wrapped, so to speak; they’re tucked in a waxy coating that’s nestled inside a pod. To eat favas, you pop open the pods, scoop out and blanch the beans, and then remove the outer shell. Work intensive? Yea, but you won’t find me complainin’. Favas are sweet and green and, with a little salt and not much else, the delicious essence of early summer.

While I usually just toss my favas in a salad or mix them with some pasta and other vegetables, I also really like fava bean spread. Mine is smooth enough to spread but still quite chunky, and laced with a whole lot of garlic and a squeeze of lemon. If I don’t finish it all before using it, I’ll spread it on a baguette and eat it just so. Or, if I’m really feelin’ it, I’ll top my bruschetta with some vinegar-and-oil-cured sardine fillets. The idea came to me from an Epicurious recipe for cannellini and sardine bruschetta. I love cannellini, but I don’t stock my pantry with dry or canned beans when fresh ones are so readily available during the summer, so I subbed in favas for the cannellini the recipe called for. The combination worked perfectly: the headiness of the garlicy fava spread stood up well to the sardines, which added just the right amount of richness and tang. Toasted baguette, more than a vehicle, was crunchy and light, a fine contrast for the favas and sardines perched atop it. I finished off the bruschetta simply, with a bit of olive oil and a grind of the pepper mill. It didn’t need much else.
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Pesto Streudel and Panzanella Salad

rivka — Wed, 17 Jun 2009 13:41:12 +0000

Now that it’s summer, my counters are teeming with beautiful red tomatoes and my fridge is packed with brightly-colored produce of all sorts: radishes, favas, beets, strawberries, you name it. It’s a welcome change from the endless supply of potatoes, yams, potatoes, and kale, oh, the kale. Thank goodness I’ve got some red back in my life!

Of course, with beets and radishes come a whole new type of greens — the kind attached to the stems of the beets and the radishes, of course. Both are too often overlooked — especially radish greens, for which I’ve never seen a recipe. Until now.

Here’s the thing. Pesto? It doesn’t just have to be basil in there. Stick in some cilantro and call it chimichurri or — better yet — send some radish greens under the knife and start to enjoy what too often ends up in the disposal (or, in my case, the compost bin. Yay!)

Radish greens are best used within a couple days of buying or picking them, so they’re a bit more finicky than basil. But they’re spicy and a little bitter like arugula, and quite flavorful. They’re also almost always attached to the radishes you buy, so why not use them? I’ve blended them up with walnuts and pinenuts, and they pair beautifully with both. But I’ve got a lingering curiosity about how they’d play with pecans, so if you try it, lemme know.
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Wheatberry Salad with Cranberries, Feta, and Mint

rivka — Tue, 02 Jun 2009 01:32:34 +0000

Yet another installment of my weekday lunch series; you can never have enough recipes for midday workplace eats.

I don’t have anything to share about this recipe that’s particularly exciting. It’s just another rendition of my standard grain+bean+berry+herb salad formula. But I realized as I made this salad that it was my first time making wheatberries. At least, I’m pretty sure it was my first time — in any event, it definitely won’t be my last. Wheatberries are pretty underrated, so much so that when I served them last Friday night, most everyone around the table asked what they were. “Wheat,” I replied. No one got it; “What part of the wheat? Like, they’re really just wheat? Are they some sort of berries that grow off the wheat crop?” No, I replied, it’s really just wheat. Funny that we don’t know what the food we eat most often actually looks like, but that’s a story for another time.

Wheatberries are sweet and nutty, with a nice solid texture. They’re probably super versatile; I can envision them in a variety of salads, soups, and stews. Writing that line, I just remembered that I’ve actually used wheatberries before, when making the Sephardic version of cholent, the rib-sticking stew made on Friday and cooked at a low temperature through the night. Unlike the Eastern European recipe of barley, beans, potatoes, beef, and eggs, the Sephardic version, called “Hamin,” is made with wheatberries, chickpeas, and dates in addition to the beef, chicken, and other leftovers. The wheatberries are cooked inside cheesecloth wrapper within the dish, so they can be piled separately onto the plate as a bed for the rest of the goodies.
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Pickled Cauliflower

rivka — Thu, 28 May 2009 11:46:47 +0000

I absolutely love sour things. I’ve been known to suck on a lemon slice once in a while, just for kicks (though my dentist scolded me for doing it, so I reluctantly put the habit to rest). When it comes to pickles, I’m a full-sour kinda gal. None of that dill or bread-n-butter stuff; I like’em super super sour. I’m into cucumber pickles, but I can’t say that they’re my favorite — not by a long shot. No, my absolute favorite pickle is a pickled green tomato, especially if it’s from Guss’ Pickles on the Lower East Side. My first time at Guss’ was on an 8th grade class trip, when we stopped there very briefly on our way back from grabbing knishes, bialys, deli, and other LES specialties. I remember watching friends get themselves just one pickle, or two. When I looked deep into the plastic tub in front of me and saw green tomato quarters, bobbing up and down in the brine, I knew that’s what I had to have. Sadly, Guss didn’t sell the tomatoes by the single back then — only by the pound. Obviously, I bought myself a pound of pickled green tomatoes. Reluctant to waste, I ate them all. Boy were they good.

Not to dismiss cukes, but compared to the tomatoes and other exotic pickled things, they’re kind of ordinary. I can promise you that this cauliflower recipe is anything but. I originally published this recipe in an article I did for My Jewish Learning on Israeli Independence Day, but these sour, cardamom-spiked florets are great year-round.

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Bulgur with Black Eyed Peas, Spinach and Dates

rivka — Thu, 14 May 2009 19:44:00 +0000

Yet another installment of my weekday lunch series. You can never have enough work-lunch-friendly dishes, now can you?

I work on the ninth floor of my firm’s office building. There are lots of conference rooms on our floor, and when a lunch meeting yields leftovers, they usually make their way into the ninth floor kitchen, which happens to be right across from my cubicle. When we hear the clomp-clomp of high heels in the kitchen and the rustling of plastic trays and wrap paper, we know it’s going to be good. Within seconds, my entire pod will have descended on the kitchen, scavenging for the best wrap, the freshest-looking corner of the spinach salad, the last piece of baklava. After poking around for ourselves, we’ll shoot out an email to our friends down the hall alerting them to the free food bonanza. We’re that nice.

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Rigatoni with Broccoli Rabe

rivka — Tue, 12 May 2009 11:09:15 +0000

If you’re a regular reader of this blog, you know by now that I’m a self proclaimed ingredient-adder. I’ve got issues leaving things simple: I find myself constantly tempted to tinker, to add just one more spice or sauce or vegetable or seed or something. I’ve been working on it, folks, really I have, but it ain’t easy.

As much as I’m inclined to clean out my pantry into a recipe, there are certain recipes that are not to be futzed with. One of those recipes is Marcella Hazan’s pasta with broccoli rabe. Hazan is a legendary Italian cook and cookbook author. Her directions are so very precise, her knowledge and expertise so colossal, I’d be crazy to fiddle with her ingredients or proportions.
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Quinoa Salad with Tofu, Beets, and Avocado

rivka — Wed, 06 May 2009 18:35:58 +0000

This is another installment of my “weekday lunch” series, where I offer suggestions for dishes that can hang out in your tupperware til 12:30 rolls around. For other weekday lunch options, see my weekday lunch archive page.

Here’s a super-easy salad that holds up very well in the tupperware container. It came together late one night when the contents of my fridge were scarce and I needed lunch for the next day. Red quinoa — available at Whole Foods and other similar stores, both in packages and in the bulk section — is a wholesome and nutritious grain, actually a berry, that takes about 15 minutes to steam. I cooked some quinoa (about 1 cup raw), chopped up two small beets I’d roasted earlier in the week, sliced up one avocado and one small block of teriyaki-marinated baked tofu, tossed them all together, and drizzled some rice vinaigrette over the salad (recipe below). It doesn’t get much easier than that. The bonus upside to bringing quinoa for lunch is that, unlike other grains, quinoa holds its shape and crunch very well even in the fridge overnight and in tupperware, and doesn’t tend to clump together or get sticky.

If you’re in a rush, this is really a perfect salad to throw together. And as always, feel free to improvise my recipe, adjusting for the contents of your fridge. I could imagine adding greens, red bell peppers, edamame, perhaps some raisins, even almonds or other sliced nuts for crunch. Get to it!

Rice Wine Vinaigrette

1 tsp. finely grated ginger or 1/2 tsp. powdered ginger
4 Tbsp. rice wine vinegar
1 tsp. sugar
1 tsp. soy sauce
1/2 Tbsp. lemon juice
3 Tbsp. olive oil
1 Tbsp. sesame oil

Combine all ingredients except for oil, and whisk vigorously. Add oil in a steady stream, whisking all the while, until well combined. Drizzle several Tbsp. of the dressing over the salad and toss to coat. Serve cool or at room temperature.
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Cherry Almond Biscotti

rivka — Mon, 04 May 2009 02:57:02 +0000

Two wrist-slaps for me: I made these so long ago, I can’t even remember when at this point. And I was oh-so-sure I blogged about them. But you know what? I didn’t. I realized this yesterday, when I was poking around a great blog I recently discovered (which, in coincidence of coincidences, belongs to an acquaintance of mine from college), and came across a post about biscotti that’s so good, it begs not to be dipped in chocolate. “I make those, too!” I thought, at which point I started poking around my own little blog for any mention of what are, without a doubt, my favorite biscotti ever. Nothing.

My goldfish-memory aside, I’ll now remedy that situation. These biscotti are truly the best I’ve ever made. They’ve got a healthy handful of dried cherries, chopped home-toasted almonds, and just the right amounts of cinnamon and sugar to make them subtly sweet and spicy, not overly so. You know what else? They’re mighty good for you, in the not-bad-for-you kind of way.
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Miso Chicken with Braised Fennel

rivka — Thu, 30 Apr 2009 13:32:36 +0000

Boneless chicken breasts are one of those things I cope with for the sake of my relationship. If I had my way, you’d never see them in my fridge or freezer: I find them flavorless and boring (unless breaded and fried — no complaints about homemade chicken fingers from this lady). But D loves those chicken breasts — especially when coated in cornflakes and eaten with applesauce — so once in a while, I throw some on the stove or in the oven and call it dinner. I try to make ‘em interesting, though I should mention that in doing so, I’ve ruined several perfectly boring but fine chicken breasts with bad-tasting sauce. Tonight, however, was one of those nights when the boneless chicken breasts found themselves on both of our plates, topped with a sauce that was pretty darn delicious, and I thanked my lucky stars that I’d given D yet another chicken fix while making something that I also enjoyed eating.

My recipe is loosely based on a recipe I saw on epicurious, originally published in SELF Magazine, for a miso-marinated chicken. I made the marinade called for in the recipe but found it pretty flat, so I added some more things. The result was something I can recommend unequivocally; it was sweet but not overly so, salty in the wonderful way that miso and soy sauce are, tangy from rice wine vinegar, and zippy from fresh ginger and wasabi. The breasts were well-browned (I like’em with a hefty crust) and the sauce was properly reduced so as to be thick and drizzly. Also, I used homemade chicken stock, which really did make a bit of a difference.
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Strawberry Avocado Salad

rivka — Mon, 06 Apr 2009 15:13:50 +0000

Not exactly a recipe, but this was a part of my Sunday morning breakfast last week and I couldn’t resist sharing it. It’s a sign of the warmer days that are (I hope!) just around the corner, and it’s a healthy and filling alternative to my usual morning grind. It’s also dead simple to make. So what are you waiting for?

Strawberry Avocado Salad

1 lb. pea shoots, arugula, or other nice-looking salad greens
1 pint strawberries, washed and sliced
2 avocados, sliced
champagne vinaigrette or other mild vinaigrette

Transfer the greens to a big salad bowl, and salt and pepper them. Distribute strawberry and avocado slices overtop. Drizzle the vinaigrette around the sides of the salad bowl, (in other words, dress the bowl, not the salad) and toss the salad around to coat very thinly with the dressing.

Serve with some crusty baguette, some good cheese, or even a bowl of good organic yogurt.

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Vegetarian Passover Main Dishes

rivka — Wed, 01 Apr 2009 16:06:52 +0000

See the notes before each recipe for ways to make recipe non-dairy.

One week from today, Jews will celebrate the holiday of Passover, in which we tell the story of our enslavement in Egypt, our eventual exodus from slavery, and our future wandering in the desert and entering of the land of Israel. As tradition has it, the Jews left Egypt in the wee hours of the morning, and thus did not have a chance to let their daily bread dough rise before baking it. As a result, during the whole holiday of Passover, we are not supposed to eat any leavened product of any kind. Once flour and water come in contact, they must be cooked and ready to eat no more than 18 minutes later. That’s where matzah comes into play: it’s “bread” that is made and baked in record speed, and it’s a staple during the course of the holiday (even if it’s totally flavorless and not so kind on the stomach).

Faced with a prohibition on eating any bread, cake, muffins, and other good carbs, many folks make Passover into a meatfest. Not in this house, though: I grew up in a pescetarian household, and Passover was no exception. As you might imagine, this made good Passover cooking a challenge. If you can’t use any flour in what you cook — including non-wheat flour — what do you make as a main dish?

In the past couple weeks, I’ve gotten more than a few questions from people who are vegetarians or are hosting vegetarians over Passover and are at a loss for what to serve. While I won’t say that I don’t miss flour on Passover — because I do, and I get very, very excited for my annual pizza trip after the holiday ends — I will say that there are a lot of great ideas for Passover-friendly vegetarian mains, things that are truly delicious and will take the edge off Passover prohibition.
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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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Yam, Zucchini, and Chickpea Salad

rivka — Tue, 03 Feb 2009 03:23:46 +0000

I’m definitely a bag-luncher. While I enjoy the occasional salad-bar salad or panini, I find that bringing my lunch to work is often healthier and more cost-efficient than the alternative. Especially since I work in Georgetown, where lunch joints are pretty high-end, and (as you all surely know) I’m not the biggest fan of Subway, bag lunches are my speed.

As someone who routinely brings my lunch to work, and I’m always on the lookout for recipes that are simple to make, easy to nuke or tasty at room temperature, and pack in servings of carbs, vegetables, and protein. Needless to say, there are plenty of these recipes floating around the blogosphere, which has given me ample opportunity to experiment.
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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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Another Caponata Recipe

rivka — Fri, 23 Jan 2009 03:26:18 +0000

I know I’ve posted caponata on the blog before, but it’s such a go-to recipe that I’m not surprised to see it up here again. Caponata is easy to make, very flavorful, and a true crowd-pleaser, even among the most carnivorous eaters. I made it this time as my contribution to a potluck lunch at work in honor of a colleague’s last day, and was quite surprised by how popular it was with the meat-lovin crowd. I promised them I’d post the recipe, so even though I’ve already got a caponata recipe on the blog, here’s one more.
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Cocoa Pear Crisps

rivka — Wed, 14 Jan 2009 19:24:39 +0000

It’s not every day that a half-eaten fruit turns into something truly out-of-this-world. I suppose I should thank the odd confluence of events that brought about these treasures: one, I bought a mandoline last week. After reading oodles of reviews about the best mandolines on the market, I learned that the two cheapest models (the Benriner and the OXO) are actually the best. My waffling back and forth about whether the 75 bucks was worth it was for nothing: I threw restraint out the window and got my new toy guilt-free. That’s one.

Two, Sarina and Robbie had iron chef night this weekend. Each of us picked a course, they revealed the secret ingredient, and we had a couple hours to make a dish featuring that ingredient and bring it over for show and tell. Is it screamingly obvious that there’s nothing I’d rather do on Saturday night than play iron chef? I was thrilled. And the secret ingredient was cocoa. Awesome.

Three, iron chef awesomeness notwithstanding, my fridge was pretty empty this weekend. Having come down with an ugly cold last week, I didn’t do much cooking at all — and this weekend, we were off the hook again, so my supply was limited, which meant I needed to get pretty creative for the competition.

Four, I took a sliced pear to work, and had only eaten half of it — so I had three and a half pears, the half of which was desperately in need of being used. After poking around in vain on Martha and Epicurious for some good pear recipes, I found one for pear chips. They were meant to be sliced paper-thin, sprinkled with a ginger-cinnamon-sugar mixture, and baked/dried in a very low oven until golden and crispy. What would happen, I wonder, if I added some cocoa to the mix? I’ll tell you what — pure magic.

Truth be told, I went cocoa-happy. I wanted the chocolate flavor to be assertive, despite its supporting role. I added 2 Tbsp of it, and I’m glad I did. Pears and cocoa get along marvelously, and the final product was tangy and spicy and a bit rich and bitter from the cocoa, not to mention perfectly crisp and crunchy. Is your mouth watering, too?

I should mention that I also added galangal, a lovely spice I got from Penzeys earlier this year. It’s similar to ginger, prominent in Thai cuisine, and has spicy notes but is also an assertively fruity flavor. It’s truly something special. If you have it, definitely use it here. If you’ve got a mandoline, you MUST try this recipe. If not, get yourself to amazon and have a mandoline for the price of dinner tonight. It’s kinda totally worth it.

Cocoa Pear Crisps
adapted from Epicurious

1 tablespoon sugar
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon galangal, optional
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
2 tablespoons cocoa
20 paper-thin pear slices (from 1 pear)

Preheat oven to 275°F. Mix sugar and spices in small bowl. Place pear slices on rack set over baking sheet. Alternatively, place slices on silpat-lined baking sheet. Sprinkle with spiced sugar. Bake until almost dry, about 1 hour. I flip the slices half way through to ensure even baking. Cool on rack or sheet. Store airtight up to 2 days.

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Winter Salad with Pears and Manchego, My Catering Debut

rivka — Mon, 08 Dec 2008 02:56:59 +0000

Catering? Moi? Uh, NO. Not exactly. I’m flighty, forgetful, and a host of other wonderful things that don’t mix with catering. And yet, today, my mom and I cooked and served brunch to a party of 8 at their home. The brunch was an item that my mom had offered in a silent auction at work; I’m a sucker for all things food-related, so when mom enlisted my help, I happily agreed.

Can I tell you how utterly shocked I am that brunch today went PERFECTLY? I mean, without a hitch. Not a single issue. Nothing forgotten, undercooked, overcooked, gross-tasting; everything plated on time, ready to go, delicious. I’m in awe of my beginner’s luck. In awe, I tell you.

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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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Cauliflower Soup

rivka — Sat, 01 Nov 2008 22:59:47 +0000

Keeping kosher has its fair share of… challenges. Never have I cooked a meat dish that has any sort of dairy product, be it cream or even butter. When I make meat for dinner, dessert can’t have butter in it. I don’t use shortening, which makes things rather difficult. Butter aside, one great sacrifice of kosher cooking is not being able to use pancetta. Now I can’t say for sure that it’s actually a sacrifice — after all, I’ve never actually had pancetta — but I think it’s safe to say that it’s one of the most oft-used flavorings for vegetables, soups, and stews of all kinds.

When I came across a beautiful cauliflower at the farmers market a couple weeks ago, I knew I’d be experimenting with cauliflower soup recipes. I came home and began poking around my cookbooks and recipe sites in search of promising combinations, but almost every recipe I found called for some form of pig. And I can understand why: pancetta, bacon and the like provide the perfect smoky, meaty background flavor against which the mild, creamy, fresh-tasting cauliflower really shines. I started to feel a bit handicapped — as though no amount of searching would product an all-vegetarian recipe that would have real flavor.
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Steelcut Oatmeal with Peach Compote

rivka — Sat, 25 Oct 2008 20:30:29 +0000

Is it obvious I love breakfast? Between french toast casserole, cinnamon buns, vintage breakfast biscuits, shakshuka, and even simple bites like this one, I seem to have found my obsession. In keeping with my breakfast trend, here’s another maddeningly simple morning meal option: steelcut oats.

What are steelcut oats? They’re oats, really — but unlike quick oats, which are essentially slices of oats, steelcut oats are like large crumbs. They look more like Grape Nuts than Quaker. They’re also quite firm; they don’t crumble in your hand the way quick oats can. They take about 25 minutes to cook fully, which means you need to have a bit of time to cook’em up. But if you’ve got the time, you’ll be handsomely rewarded: cooked steelcut oats are like a thicker, homier version of grits or polenta, with a distinctly nutty flavor and lovely pot liquor. I also add a pinch of salt to the water for contrast, and a daub of butter at the end, a la Mandy, because it makes breakfast more luxurious. In my humble opinion, oatmeal is best topped with a splash of milk or half and half, and either a dollop of jam or a spoonful of fresh fruit compote. In this case, I used my very last summer peach to make a lovely quick compote that went perfectly with the oatmeal.
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The Simplest Breakfast

rivka — Sun, 21 Sep 2008 18:12:51 +0000

Lazy Sunday morning here in localsville. Since localseasonal September started, a Sunday morning routine has developed. I wake up, make myself a cup of coffee, drink the littlest bit of it and make D mad by letting it cool to room temp, assure her that I meant to let it sit as I stick it in the fridge for ice coffee later, and then trot over to the farmers market, lots-o-canvas-bags in tow. By the time I’m back from the market, I’m warm (it’s a bit of a hike from Dupont with all those groceries in hand) and I’m hungry. So I take out those beautiful yellow cherry tomatoes, that Keswick creamery spreadable herb cheese, those farm-fresh eggs, and that lovely, tart cows milk yogurt, and I whip us up a little breakfast. Nothing fancy — wonderful, in fact, in its sheer simplicity. These pics are from our breakfast 2 weeks ago.

Happy lazy local Sunday, everyone!

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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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Not Your Ordinary Gazpacho

rivka — Tue, 09 Sep 2008 00:29:45 +0000

I rarely title my posts with anything but the name of the recipe I’m posting — but this particular recipe is fabulous, and if I told you what it was called, I might scare you. Let’s just say it’s not your ordinary gaspacho. First off, it’s white. As you might have guessed, cucumbers are definitely at play here, and they lend a wonderful fruity freshness that’s key in offsetting…the other ingredients. Also in the mix are almonds that have been blanched, toasted, and ground, as well as rustic bread that’s been soaked in water and blended to thicken the soup. And that other ingredient, you ask? Buttermilk. Don’t freak out.

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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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LocalSeasonal Take 1: Caponata

rivka — Wed, 03 Sep 2008 02:41:24 +0000

If I may say so myself, tonight was a smashing success. A whole day into my challenge and I’m still thrilled that I took it on! On the menu this evening was kalamata olive sourdough bread from the market, homemade eggplant caponata, and greens with heirloom tomatoes, feta, and red onions that I pickled in fresh-squeezed lime juice till they turned a beautiful shade of purple.

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Easiest Broccoli Slaw (ever!)

rivka — Sat, 09 Aug 2008 03:26:51 +0000

Yes, yes, summer’s almost over (eek! I won’t say it again, I promise) — but there’s still plenty of time for you country folk to fire up your grill while we city folk peer jealously out our windows and inhale the aromas. Meanwhile, if you’re an urbanite lucky enough to get invited over to said grill-equipped home, here’s a great slaw to bring along with. I guarantee it’ll win you some fans — maybe even get you invited back. (You’ll notice that I actually just brought it for lunch one day. I promise it tastes good both outdoors and in A/C.)

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Mediterranean Orzo Salad

rivka — Sun, 13 Jul 2008 00:17:52 +0000

Well hello dear readers! Nice of you to join me here, at this oft-neglected blog of mine. Work has taken a turn for the busier, and I’ve not been posting as much as I’d like. The craziness will likely continue through the end of the month, but then I’m home free and will post much more! Meanwhile, thanks for hangin’ in there. And you’ll be handsomely rewarded for your patience — I have a couple of smashingly delicious recipes in the queue.

As you may have noticed, it’s pretty smokin’ hot these days. For those of us city folks without a porch, grilling isn’t much of an option, but nonetheless, I try to minimize indoor cooking as much as possible during summer months. This orzo salad requires no oven time, and just around 20 minutes of stovetop cooking. It can also be tweaked in any number of ways; as usual, the recipe I provide here is entirely a function of what was in my fridge when I made it, and you should listen to your fridge’s innards just as carefully.
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Tzatziki

rivka — Sat, 28 Jun 2008 21:08:46 +0000

My wonderful mom reminded me that when we first made this, we also grated in 2 pickling cucumbers. I completely forgot to put them in the recipe here! Correction appended.
Have you ever seen a recipe here at NDP that called for mayonnaise? No, I don’t think so. Definitely not. That’s because I hate hate hate mayo with, well, a passion. It makes my stomach turn just to think about it! Yuck. The grossness of mayo notwithstanding, at least 95.5% of all dip recipes list mayo as an ingredient — incomprehensible, if you ask me. Why not pass up the mayo for some yogurt? Or sour cream, if that’s your thing? Why ruin a perfectly good dip with mayo? Disagree if you must — I get that mayonnaise is one of America’s favorite condiments. Just not one of mine.

(end rant.)
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Sweet-Tart-Crunchy Skirt Steak Salad

rivka — Mon, 23 Jun 2008 00:11:46 +0000

If you haven’t noticed, we at NDP eat almost all vegetarian food. Meat and poultry rarely make their way into our weekly diet, and I personally couldn’t be happier. I can’t say the same for my co-habitant, but who makes the food? I do. That’s right.
An important distinction: I am NOT a vegetarian. No, no, no. That would never be. Every once in a while, I really, just really really need some meat. When that happens, I like to humor D with a little beefy deliciousness.

I’ve been seeing skirt steak everywhere lately, from other blogs to Top Chef and beyond. It’s a summer favorite because it cooks up in minutes, and it’s lovely on salad. It also happens to be particularly flavorful, which can’t hurt. We picked some up on our way home this afternoon, and my usual patient self decided to make it right away. I’d tagged an epicurious recipe for skirt steak with wine sauce, which I imagine was intended to serve as a main dish, but as I had a hankering for spinach salad tonight, I plopped the saucy steak on top of a bed of leaves.

Not to sound like a broken record, but you can make a thousand variations of the salad I made tonight. In fact, I’ve probably made spinach salad at least 30 different ways during my measly 25 years. Granted, not all varieties would go well with wine-flavored skirt steak, but lots would. I happened to have some plump dried cherries that D’s mom sent me a while back, as well as my favorite “crunchy mix” consisting of sesame seeds, sliced almonds, and raw crushed-up ramen noodles that I’d toasted. I threw both of those in with the spinach, dressed it all with some balsamic vinegar, olive oil, and a few drops of pomegranate syrup, and laid slices of steak on top. So long as your skirt steak isn’t loaded with fat and connective tissue as mine was, I guarantee you’ll have a delicious dinner.

Sweet-Tart-Crunchy Skirt Steak Salad

1 1/2 lb skirt steak, cut into 4 pieces
3/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
3/4 cup dry red wine
4 fresh thyme sprigs
1 Turkish or 1/2 California bay leaf
1 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce

Pat steak dry and sprinkle all over with salt and pepper. Heat oil in a 12-inch heavy skillet over moderately high heat until hot but not smoking, then cook steaks, turning over once, 5 to 7 minutes total for medium-rare. Transfer to a platter.

Pour off fat from skillet, then add wine, thyme, bay leaf, sugar, and Worcestershire sauce and bring to a boil, scraping up brown bits. Continue to boil until reduced by half, about 3 minutes. Add any meat juices on platter, then remove from heat and discard bay leaf and thyme. Slice steaks thinly, drizzle with pan sauce, and serve.

Sweet-Tangy-Crunchy Spinach Salad

3/4 cups loosely packed spinach
1/2 cup dried cherries (or substitute cranberries, raisins, black currants, etc)
1/8 cup sesame seeds
1/4 cup sliced and/or slivered almonds
1/2 cup ramen noodles, raw and crushed

2 Tbsp good olive oil
4 Tbsp balsamic vinegar
1 Tbsp pomegranate syrup
salt and pepper to taste

In a 350-degree oven, toast noodles, almonds and sesame seeds until golden brown, about 15-20 minutes. Let cool completely. Aside from that, you know the drill — combine the dressing ingredients; drizzle over the salad ingredients; eat.

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Chilled Leek and Pea Soup with Mint

rivka — Sat, 07 Jun 2008 02:01:02 +0000

Summer doesn’t take its time in DC. Blink, and before you know it, it’s dripping down your back, glowing on your face, sticking the jeans you shouldn’t have worn today to the back of your legs. Yep, awesome. In prepping for Washington’s summer-o-sweat, I’ve been reminding myself to breathe deeply and contemplating ways to limit stove and oven use. But you can only eat so many salads before the sheer sight of baby greens makes you scream. The solution? Make now, eat later, chill in-between.

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Broccoli with Pine Nuts and Raisins

rivka — Sun, 06 Apr 2008 20:44:06 +0000

Ever have a total jonesin’ to make something that you had not intention of eating for a couple days? No, of course not. You’re not crazy. Maybe it was the urge to blog that got me cooking this weekend, backwards as that sounds…but for whatever reason, I found myself chopping garlic, toasting pine nuts, and steaming broccoli and raisins, knowing full well that I was going out to dinner last night, out to a brunch baby-naming this morning, and … well, out to dinner again tonight. The broccoli is still sitting in my fridge, save for the little bits I’ve been sneaking here and there. And now you all know what I’ll be taking for lunch tomorrow.
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Whole Wheat Leek and Onion Tart

rivka — Thu, 20 Mar 2008 12:33:53 +0000

File this under “unexpectedly delicious.” When I developed the recipe for this tart, I purposefully avoided making the center quiche-like. I wanted a cheesy filling laced with caramelized leeks and onions; a quiche, eggy and milky, is a whole different thing. That said, eggs make things hold together and puff a bit in the oven, so I was concerned that my eggless tart filling would be dense and soggy, and might even disintegrate once sliced. Not so, my friends, not so. This was truly an unanticipated success, and perhaps the best thing on my dinner table last Friday night.
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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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Teriyaki Tofu with Brussels Sprouts and Soba

rivka — Wed, 20 Feb 2008 16:43:34 +0000

I’ve been on a tofu hiatus lately. Its estrogen-mimicking qualities had me a little nervous, and I hadn’t been craving it much anyway, so I took a tofu timeout. Then I was at the whole foods near work and some baked pressed tofu caught my eye. I can’t remember the brand, but it’s the kind that comes in thai, teriyaki, and lemon-pepper flavors. I usually buy regular organic extra firm tofu, and do the pressing and marinating myself. But don’t kid yourself — that process takes time. Ideally, you’d put the tofu in a bowl, cover it with a paper towel, rest a heavy can on top, and let the liquid drain out over at least half an hour. Then you’d marinate the tofu for half an hour more, replacing the plain liquid with flavor. But whole foods, the blessing that it is, carries ready-made-and-marinated tofu for only eighty times the price! Actually, this stuff was under 2 bucks — not bad at all.

With the tofu flavored and ready to go, I was able to make this entire meal, start to finish, in 23 minutes. People, that’s faster than our not-so-favorite thirty-minute-meal star. And it was delicious to boot! Even D thought so.
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It’s Frittata Time

rivka — Thu, 14 Feb 2008 15:57:48 +0000

D and I were in New York over New Years, and our hostess, Meryl, made a lovely pajama brunch. (Let’s face it; what else do you really want to do on New Years day besides lounge around in your pjs eating great food with friends? Yea — it was pretty fabulous.) Meryl picked out the recipes in advance, and she and I did most of the cooking that morning. Now, if it’s not clear from reading this blog, I’m a darn lazy cook. I mess up recipes all the time, burn things almost chronically, and rarely even read through a recipe before reaching into the flour jar. Meryl=exactly the opposite; she couldn’t have read through the recipe more, or have been more exacting in her measurements. It was slightly hysterical. But dare I say our different approaches yielded some pretty excellent food? All morning long, people swooned over the frittata, which really couldn’t have been easier to make. The recipe originally came from Real Simple magazine, and basically had you mix a whole boatload of eggs with spinach, tomatoes, onions and feta cheese, pour it into an oiled pyrex pan, and bake for 40 minutes until firm. Real simple, indeed — and real delicious.
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Baked Stuffed Eggplant

rivka — Fri, 08 Feb 2008 03:45:21 +0000

This week, I was in North Carolina for work. I stayed in the coastal plains of NC, in an all-American town. By all-American, I mean the only things to eat were carbs and packaged food, and the most popular restaurants were Wendy’s, Popeye’s, Arby’s, and other restaurants whose names are people. Get the drift? Needless to say, I was thrilled to touch down on the runway in the nation’s capital, my mouth watering at the thought of cooking up some freakin’ vegetables for dinner.

I was going to blog about cookies tonight, but the sheer thought of butter and sugar makes me shudder with memories of my daily intake earlier this week. (Though, to NC’s credit, it’s not every day that a waffle costs $2.65, a side of grits sets you back 35 cents (!), and breakfast for two with tip comes to 8 bucks.) In short, I can’t think about sweet stuff right now, so I’ll tell you instead about the stuffed eggplants I made this past Sunday.
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Brussels Sprouts (Yes, Brussels Sprouts!)

rivka — Wed, 30 Jan 2008 19:33:27 +0000

Here’s a lesson in spousal communication. If you suspect that your significant other doesn’t like a particular food, do yourself a huge favor: just ask. If you don’t, you mind wind up like me. In the almost three years that D and I have been together, I never once have made brussels sprouts. I just assumed that D would hate those mini green balls of healthful deliciousness. People, how wrong I was.

A couple weeks back, D and I went to an absolutely fantastic dinner at Bryce and Matt’s. Bryce is a vegetarian, and a great cook, so dinner was an all-out vegetable and fake meat fest. Having grown up in a vegetarian house, I was in a form of heaven much reminiscent of my childhood. I was, however, slightly concerned about D, who favors meat. But to my surprise, D asked me to get Bryce’s fake meat pie recipe. I asked if I should make it with real meat, and D said, “Just make it exactly the way Bryce makes it. Don’t do any of your little alterations or substitutions or anything.” Ok then.

But that’s neither here nor there…the point is, after that dinner, D asked for brussels sprouts. Yep! That’s right. I mean, twist my arm why don’t you. I guess I’ll make ‘em.
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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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