It’s Memorial Day weekend, and barbeque is king. No doubt you’ve seen more than enough burger recipes in the past 48 hours; don’t worry, that’s not what I’m sharing today. No, no. I’m here for the vegetarians and the newly-minted lessmeatarians. Let’s make sure they (um, we) are well cared for this holiday weekend. And, while there are approximately several thousand potluck-friendly vegetarian recipes, another never hurts. Because we all know Monday’s side dishes will be Tuesday’s tupperware lunch and Wednesday’s leftover dinner. So let’s make’em good, shall we?

If you make nothing else this weekend, you’ll be in great shape with this chickpea salad. It is dead simple to make, people. Embarrassingly so. I soaked and cooked fresh chickpeas, but if we’re being perfectly honest, there’s no need to go to all the fuss. Canned are absolutely fine here. And I know I often say what follows, but that’s because it’s true: this recipe is by no means set in stone. It can be altered in any number of ways, a few of which I list here. Don’t get hung up if you’re missing one or two of the ingredients. Green garlic can swap out for regular garlic, scallions for red onions, cumin seeds for the ground stuff, anardana for sumac, and now I’ll stop listing. If all you’ve got is chickpeas, cumin, feta, and lemon juice, you’re 90% of the way there. And while I’m sure tomatoes would be great in this salad the first time around, I really can’t stand them once their refrigerated, as leftovers always are, so I’ve left them out. Feel free to add them back in, if you’d like. If you’re cooking vegetarians, lessmeatarians, or plain ole’ people who can’t eat just burgers for 48 hours straight (yes, I recognize that that’s not an all-inclusive category), I guarantee this chickpea salad will please across the board.

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This isn’t the recipe I planned to share with you today. There’s a recipe for a cookie that I absolutely adore, that I was sure I posted last July. Thing is, I’ve been searching and searching for it on this site, but it seems either to have gone missing or to have never been posted. I’m still totally confused about where it’s gone, but I’m getting to the bottom of this and will post the recipe later this week…so stay tuned.

In the meantime, peas, anyone?

Fresh peas a staple of springtime, on the menus of every restaurant in the city, and when they’re really fresh, they’re amazing. But I mean really fresh. Like, 1 day old or less. Sometimes, you get a lucky batch of pods, and the peas inside are small and young enough that they never take on that starchy texture or lose their sweet, clean flavor. But generally, fresh peas are hit-or-miss if you buy ‘em more than a couple days out. That’s why this recipe calls for frozen peas (*collective sigh of relief*).

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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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There’s a little game I play as fall wanes into winter. It’s about tomatoes. In summer, when tomatoes are at their peak, I want nothing but to eat them — lots of them, all the time — in preparations as simple as can be. Don’t make me pasta with tomato sauce when bursting, juicy, raw tomatoes can be had in abundance; slice up a couple, drizzle a little olive oil on top, share a pinch of salt, and I’ll be on my way, thank you.

The fall tomatoes in these parts aren’t half-bad, either. Some farmers — Toigo, notably — do a great job with the late-season fruit. But December and January (and beyond) are murky tomato territory, where the red ones are all found beneath the fluorescent lighting of your nearest grocery store, and the farmers market tomatoes tend to be green, for frying or pickling only.

Now before you let anyone tell you that supermarket tomatoes are good for nothing, I’ve got to chime in. I’ll agree wholeheartedly that January beefsteak tomatoes are about as mealy and flavorless as they come. However, the grocery store’s cherry tomatoes are passable when you really, really need them. Furthermore, there are ways to enhance supermarket tomatoes to the point that they’re not just edible, they’re actually kinda tasty. This is one of those ways.

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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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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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Part of the fun of food blogging is that my kitchen rarely sees the exact same dish twice. Driven by the need for new content, I’m always in search of the next great recipe. I abide some serious duds along the way, but they’re a necessary evil in this business, and well worth the pain when you consider that experimentation is the only way to unearth the new best recipe.

Folks, this is the new best recipe.

The minute I started to make it, I knew it’d be something special, and frankly, I’m a little shocked that in 26 years of eating mostly vegetarian food, 8 years of cooking for myself, 5 years of being really interested in food, and over 2 years of food blogging, I never came across this sublime combination. The minute the cauliflower hit the heat, I knew I’d struck the jackpot. Consider the nutty, sweet sides of cauliflower; you can imagine how brown butter might amplify that nuttiness. It plays the perfect foil to the sweetness as well, letting it come out without overwhelming you. A hit of lemon zest at the end of cooking brightens the flavors and cuts the richness, and a quick confetti of grated Parmigiano Reggiano adds that perfect amount of salt. Seriously, this is the best tasting thing I’ve had in so, so long. I made it twice in the two weeks before Thanksgiving, and I just bought more cauliflower to make it again. It’s perfect. If you don’t trust me, you can check out this NYT recipe and be just as weirded out as I am that Julia Moskin and I had the lightbulb moment at the same time. How bizarre.

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

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

Carrot Bread
adapted loosely from Bon Appetit

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

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

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

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

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

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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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Readers Dearest,
In a few short hours, I will be heading off for an all-too-short but nonetheless-exciting week-long vacation. While this means awesomeness for me, you’re probably not as excited. Here’s something to perk up your day: the post below is about a recipe that’s delicious and easy to make, best combo ever. Also, I’ve done my best to stick a couple posts in the wings, so as to keep you entertained and sated in my absence. Keep reading — more importantly, keep cooking — and I’ll be back in no time.

You can stop reading now if you’re an onion hater. Clearly, this isn’t for you. Where were we? Ah yes, pearl onions. They’re baby onions, basically. They’re a bit larger than pearls — at least, any pearls I can afford — but they’re certainly elegant. They come in red, yellow, and white — just like large onions — and you can get all three colors mixed together at Trader Joe’s.
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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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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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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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Have I told you about Rancho Gordo? Having read too many articles about the joys of dried beans, I teamed up with my officemate and we ordered a shipment. Now, under my counter, I’ve got a healthy supply of them, including rio zape, tepari, mayocoba, garbanzo, and borlotti.

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

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

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

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

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

Beans in Broth with Caramelized Sweet Potato

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Nothing announces the end of gloomy winter and the coming of bright, bloomy Spring like ramps. Ramps resemble baby leeks, and taste like a cross between garlic and onion, only less pungent, more delicate green. Unlike leeks, ramps’ green stalks are soft and can should be eaten. They’re certainly Spring’s hot item among chefs and gourmandes, and the most ramp-obsessed folks have been known to shell out as much as 20 bucks a pound for ‘em. Now, you won’t find me telling you they’re worth that much — after all, they were once mistaken as weeds and people spent time trying to rid their gardens of them — but they are mighty tasty, and quite versatile. However, as they’re expensive, I’d use them wisely.

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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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Edamame rarely find their way into my kitchen, and I really don’t know why. They’re a perfect addition to salads, an easy and elegant appetizer, and a perfect snack, but I can’t think of the last time I bought them. No, really, I don’t think I’ve every bought them. The ones in these pictures were leftover from my birthday party. Dina, another one of the birthday girls, made this easy recipe and I’ve been trying to figure out how to recreate it ever since.
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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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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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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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Bet you never thought you’d see “healthy” and “butter” next to each other in the same sentence!

Last night, after heating up some broth for a very sick D., I moseyed back to the kitchen to figure out dinner for myself. The fridge was pretty cleaned out, save some pretty blood oranges, 6 grape tomatoes, and a bit of leftover fennel. But fear not, dear readers! A few ingredients really do go a long way. I feel a little bit like Rachael Ray when I say this, but a delicious and healthy meal really is only 30 minutes away.(...)
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In Italy, antipasti are meant to whet your appetite. (Granted, when I ate out in Italy, my appetite needs little whetting — what with all the whiffs of freshly-made pasta and roasted tomato sauce drifting from the kitchen to my table.) Nonetheless, in Italy, antipasti are simply appetizers, mere preludes to the main dish. In my house, they’re just part of the meal. After all, roasted vegetables with a splash of quality balsamic vinegar and just the right amount of good olive oil make a perfect accompaniment to whatever’s being served. In my humble opinion, they need not precede the main course — in fact, they do just fine right alongside it.(...)
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Having spent 22 Thanksgivings with my family, I’ve seen my fair share of crowded dinner tables, overstuffed tummies and packed fridges. This year will be no exception. As promised, the array of dishes that my mom and I made for Thursday’s feast is so vast, turkey simply will not be missed. We planned a menu with something for everyone (and too much for any one person) to eat. Below, I’ve outlined every step of our process, complete with shopping lists, directions, and substitutions for those with allergies or dislikes. I hope this comes intime for your prep, and as always, I’d love any and all feedback on recipes, readability, etc. Happy shopping, cooking, and eating!

SHOPPING LIST

Squash Stuffed With Red Quinoa, Pears and Cranberries

• 1 red onion
• 2 firm pears, any kind will do
• 1 stalk celery
• ¼ cup pecans
• 1 bunch fresh thyme
• 1 small container apple juice (total ½ cup)
• 1 small container vegetable broth (total 2 cups)
• 4 delicata squash, depending on size, or substitute butternut squash
• 1 box red quinoa; can substitute regular quinoa or wild rice

Jalapeno-Fruit Chutney

• 2 jalapeno chilies
• 1 package dried apricots
• 1 package cranberries
• small package crystallized ginger (total 1 Tbsp)
• white and brown sugar (total ½ cup of each)
• cloves, cinnamon, allspice, nutmeg – whichever you have

Cornbread Broccoli Rabe Strata

Note: we made half a recipe, in a square pan; we’re guessing people will love this, but they’ll only take one helping. It’s pretty rich!

• olive oil
• 1 head garlic (you’ll only need 1 clove for this)
• crushed red pepper flakes
• 1 lb. broccoli rabe, or rapini — those big leaves with what look like little broccoli florets
• 1 red pepper
• 1 small container kalamata olives (total ¼ cup)
• 1 quart whole milk
• 8 eggs
• whatever you need to make cornbread – we do from scratch, but there are easy mixes out there as well
• 1 container ricotta cheese OR farmer cheese (we did farmer cheese, and prefer it)
• 1 block gruyere cheese (6 oz. total)

Mushroom Soup

• 1 ½ lbs. mushrooms of any kind (we used a mix of white, baby bella, cremini, chanterelles and shitake. If you’re on a budget, use baby bella and cremini, which run much cheaper than chanterelles and shiitake.)
• 8 cups of broth (we bought two cartons of no-chicken broth, which was perfect)
• 5 shallots
• 2 cloves of garlic (one head of garlic will suffice for all the recipes we made)

Squash Stuffed With Red Quinoa, Pears and Cranberries
Quinoa adapted from “Cranberry Pear Wild Rice Stuffing” by Nava Atlas, chutney adapted from this recipe in delicious living magazine
Serves 8-12.

Red Quinoa:

• • 2 cups vegetable broth or no-chicken broth
  • 1 box red quinoa (approximately 2 cups)
  • 1 red onion, diced small
  • 1 celery stalk, diced small
  • 2 medium firm pears, cored and diced
  • ½ cup dried cranberries
  • ¼ cup finely chopped pecans or walnuts
  • 1 tsp. fresh thyme (can substitute ½ tsp. dried thyme)
  • ½ cup apple or pear juice
  • 4 delicata squash, or substitute butternut

Fruit Chutney:

• • 1 cup dried apricots
  • 1 ½ cups water
  • ½ tsp cinnamon
  • 1 Tbsp. crystallized ginger, chopped
  • ¼ tsp. cloves
  • ¼ tsp. allspice
  • 1 package cranberries
  • 2 jalapeno peppers

For the Quinoa:

1. Bring the broth to a simmer in a saucepan over medium heat. Stir in the quinoa and cook according to the directions on the package. (We cooked ours over medium heat for ten or so minutes, then turned off the heat and let it steam the rest of the way.)
2. Once the heat has been turned off, add the diced pears and cover the pot, allowing them to par-cook with the quinoa.
3. Meanwhile, sauté onion and celery in a couple Tbsp of olive oil over medium heat, until soft and translucent. Add thyme, and continue to sauté. (Here’s the truth: we let the onion and celery go on a bit too long, and it got a bit charred…and delicious. I highly recommend charring the onion and celery!)
4. Add the cranberries, onion/celery/thyme, pecans and apple juice to the cooked quinoa, and toss. If needed, add salt and pepper.

For the Squash:

1. Slice squash lengthwise, and remove seeds. (If you save them, you can prepare them this way.)
2. Roast squash, upside down, in a pyrex with an inch of water in the bottom. For delicate, 30 minutes is plenty; butternut need about an hour. Remove squash from the oven when you can easily pierce their flesh with a fork.
3. Fill the crevices of the squash with the red quinoa filling.

For the Fruit Chutney:

1. Bring 1 ½ cups water to a boil and pour it over the apricots in a small bowl. Leave for ten minutes; this will reconstitute the apricots. Keep the liquid when done!
2. Meanwhile, roast the jalapeno peppers under the broiler until the skin blackens and develops blisters, 10-15 minutes. (If you have a gas stove, you can char them over an open flame much more quickly.) Remove them from the oven and insert them into a brown paper bag. Allow them to steam in the bag for 5 minutes, then remove them and slide their skins off under running water. Chop them into a fine dice; they should total about 2 Tbsp.
3. Into a pot on medium heat, add apricots, jalapeno, cranberries, crystallized ginger, spices and the leftover liquid from the apricots plus enough extra water to total 1 ¼ cups. Allow all of the ingredients to simmer until cranberries start to pop and the mixture gels, about 15 minutes. Remove from the heat, and allow the chutney to set.
4. Top squash and quinoa with a dollop of the chutney, and serve some alongside as well.

Alternative recipe:
Add chickpeas to the quinoa, and mix in some salsa with the fruit chutney for a more savory topping.

Mushroom Soup
Adapted from this recipe on Epicurious

• 1 ½ lbs. assorted mushrooms
• 5 shallots, diced
• 5 cloves garlic, chopped
• 3 Tbsp. olive oil
• 6 cups broth
• salt and pepper as needed

1. Rinse or wipe mushrooms clean, then pat dry; chop roughly into two or three pieces each. Save two or three mushrooms, which you can later chop and use as a garnish.
2. Sauté shallots and garlic in olive oil until soft and translucent.
3. Add mushrooms and sauté over medium-low heat until mushrooms start to emit liquid, about 10 minutes.
4. Add half the broth, and allow to simmer for 15 minutes.
5. Remove mushrooms and shallot pieces with a slotted spoon and put into a food processor. Puree them with 1 cup of broth until smooth. Return to the pot, add the rest of the broth, and simmer 15 more minutes. Remove from heat.
6. Serve warm, with mushroom garnish.

We also made:

• pumpkin bread
• pumpkin pie (my mom did this before I arrived, but I imagine her recipe is pretty standard)
• pumpkin cheese cake (I’ll be getting this recipe soon!)

We will also be making:

• cornbread broccoli rabe strata (recipe from the New York Times; we’re making half a recipe, and baking it in a square pan.)
• sweet potatoes two ways: with marshmallows, and with lime syrup
• a greek salad
• cranberry-etrog sauce
• apple-cranberry pie
• pecan pie

If I’m forgetting anything, it’s hard to tell. See why it’s so hard to miss turkey with this thanksgiving feast?

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On last week’s episode of The Splendid Table podcast, actor and writer Michael Tucker spoke of his experience living as an American in Italy. Aside from the obvious challenges adapting to a foreign language and culture, he has learned an entirely different way of cooking since moving to the small town of Umbria. Something he said about cooking really struck me: he said that his cooking trajectory has been much like a bell curve. As he learned more about food and cooking and discovered his love for all things culinary, he acquainted himself with new, often obscure ingredients. He bought many a kitchen gadget. Basically, his cooking became more and more complicated. But being in Italy changed that. In Italy, Tucker and his wife eat mostly at home and in family-owned restaurants, where food is composed entirely of local, fresh ingredients, preparations are dead simple, and nothing is more delicious. He’s learned to focus less on how many ingredients go into a dish or how labor intensive the process is, and focus instead on using few but quality ingredients and precise but simple methods. The locals of Umbria, he says, consider these “rules” of good cooking nothing less than homage to long-time traditions.

I’m trying to go with the simple theme these days. It may not be evident from some of the recipes I’ve posted lately, which I admit are often more intricate and work-intensive than I intend. But I do usually find that simple is best; it allows me to have maximum control over what I put into my food and what it looks like when I serve it.

This was one of the dishes we served on Sunday. As I was rummaging through my vegetable drawer to make Ina Garten’s vegetable torte, I saw four cute baby yellow squash from last week’s CSA that I’d totally forgotten about. Never sure about how much food it takes to feed an army of guests, I figured I might as well use what I had. This squash antipasto is super quick to throw together, and as you can see, it looks really pretty.

Yellow Squash with Basil and Pine Nuts

four small yellow squash
good olive oil
good balsamic vinegar*
sea salt and freshly ground pepper
a handful of pine nuts
a few sprigs of fresh basil

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
2. Slice squash lengthwise into 1/4-inch slices.
3. Spread squash in a single layer on a non-stick or sprayed baking sheet. Drizzle with olive oil, and sprinkle salt and pepper overtop.
4. Roast squash for about 20 minutes, until soft and golden but not burnt.
5. Fan out squash decoratively on a small plate. Top with pine nuts and basil, another drizzle of olive oil, and several spoonfuls or balsamic vinegar.

Serve warm or at room temperature.

*a note about balsamic vinegar: I don’t have the real stuff, which can cost 50 bucks for a teeny little bottle. Instead, I buy good regular balsamic from the grocery store, several bottles at a time, and then reduce it to about a third of its original volume. Real balsamic has a syrupy texture that’s much less liquidy than what’s sold here in grocery stores, and a balsamic reduction like the one described here mimics that thickness well. Danielle from Habeas Brulee will be the first to warn you, though — when you do this, it makes your whole house smoky and vinegar-smelling, so do it when you’re home alone!

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If you’re an onion hater, this dish will convert you. Slow-roasting onions releases their natural sugars slowly without burning them, so that by the end they’re smooth, slippery and taste like caramel.

The tomatoes undergo a similar transformation: they become soft and sweet, and their flavors become incredibly concentrated.

And the fennel…well, you get the drift: soft, sweet and delicious.

The technique is simple (I feel like I’ve said that before…): roast thick slices of the veggies in a medium-hot oven for an hour or so. Instructions below are in slightly more detail, promise.

Slow-roasted onions, fennel and tomatoes
serves 4-6.
3 nice, large, red tomatoes, cut into four slices each
2 white (not yellow) onions, cut into four-five slices each
1 bulb fennel, fronds removed, cut into five-six slices each
good olive oil
salt
pepper

Preheat oven to 300 degrees.
Places the slices randomly on two cooking sheets. feel free to smoosh and squeeze them so that they all fit. It’ll only make things taste better. Plug the spout of your olive oil bottle with your finger and drizzle the oil over the vegetables. use your fingers to spread the oil so that it coats the exposed surface of the vegetables. Season liberally with salt and pepper.

Cook on 300 degrees for about an hour, flipping onions and fennel once at the halfway point. Leave the tomatoes alone as much as possible. You’ll know it’s done when onions are caramel-colored and soft and your kitchen smells ridiculously good.

To serve: layer vegetables on a white tray: onion or fennel on the bottom, then tomato, then fennel or onion.

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If you made the slow-roasted dish and have some leftovers, here’s a great way to take care of ‘em:

Quick Greek Stew

slow-roasted onion, fennel and tomato leftovers
fresh ground pepper
1/4 cup feta cheese
a few kalamata or other greek olives
fresh basil

Roughly chop onion/fennel/tomato leftovers into large pieces. Toss in a shallow sauté pan with some of their juices, about 3 minutes. Add a bit of crumbled feta cheese, a few greek olives, and a crank of the pepper mill. Cook about 2 minutes longer. Garnish with fresh basil.

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Sometimes, simple is best. I’m often inclined to throw every fancy ingredient in the pantry into whatever dish I’m making, in the hopes that a dash of truffle oil and some fancy mirin and a little chili mango and….ugh, what an awful combination!

Point is, I’ve learned that good olive oil, salt and pepper are often all you need to make something great. These potatoes are a perfect example; the tricks here aren’t in the pantry — they’re in the oven and on your watch. Think temperature and time; whenever potatoes come out too mushy or too dry or too something else, it’s because I wasn’t precise in my choices of cooking time and temperature. This recipe is sure to produce the kind of consistent results that will please you and your guests.

Easy-as-pie Roasted Potatoes
serves 4.
10 small purple, red or fingerling potatoes (I like to use a mix)
salt
pepper
good olive oil
chili powder, optional

Preheat the oven to 315 degrees.
(Can you guess the steps?)
Cut potatoes into triangular shapes.
Sprinkle liberally with salt, pepper, and chili powder, if you like.
Put your thumb over the spout in the olive oil so that it drips slowly; drizzle with restraint.
(Alternatively, toss all ingredients in a plastic bag — I don’t like this method because you lose a lot of the olive oil and spices that way.)
Put the potatoes in a shallow pan in a single layer.
Bake anywhere from 1-2 hours, until the potatoes are crunchy but still moist, and the skin is crispy.

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This dish is a classic in our house: I love serving it to company or just popping a couple from the fridge into the microwave for a last-minute dinner alone. It’s a great alternative to lasagna, and gluten-free to boot.

Eggplant Involtini with Feta
adapted from Nigella Lawon

2-3 large eggplants, cut lengthwise in thin slices
3 cups (about 1 jar) tomato sauce
2 cups crumbled feta cheese plus extra for topping
1 cup grated parmesan plus extra for topping
1/2 cup walnuts, finely chopped
1/2 cup raisins, soaked in hot water for 10 minutes (optional)
1/2 cup black or kalamata olives, sliced
4 tbsp olive oil
1 garlic clove, crushed or finely chopped
zest from 1 lemon
a good pinch of dried mint
2 Tbsp parsley
1 egg

Brush the eggplant slices on both sides with olive oil and grill or roast them in a 400-degree oven until soft, about 10 minutes per side.

Mix all filling ingredients in a large bowl and stir to combine. Put about a tablespoon of filling on each eggplant slice and roll it up firmly. Use a toothpick to hold in place, or just ensure that the edge is tucked underneath the roll to prevent it from coming undone.

Layer the slices in a 9×13 dish, and cover with tomato sauce. Top with any remaining filling, or extra cheese if you have. Bake at 375 degrees for 25-30 minutes. The involtini should be served warm (lukewarm according to Nigella, but I prefer them warm).

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The flavors in this dish are straightforward, but certainly not boring: just pure roasted vegetables, compressed into a terrine. Feel free to omit the goat cheese if you want the dish to be non-dairy.

Title: Roasted Vegetable Terrine
Categories: Terrines, Vegetables
Yield: 8 servings

2 yellow peppers
2 green peppers
2 red peppers
1 large eggplant
2 medium zucchini or yellow squash
1/2 cup Pitted kalamata olives
1/8 cup capers, rinsed
7 oz Goat cheese, crumbled, optional
handful Fresh basil leaves

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees and position a rack in the setting closest to the heat source. Alternatively, preheat your broiler.

Lay peppers individually on their side and cut off 1/2″ from each top and bottom. Set peppers upright and make 2 cuts from top to bottom on opposite sides. Open up peppers, pull out seeds; trim and discard white pith. Place 4-6 pepper halves on a sheet pan, drizzle with olive oil, and sprinkle on salt and pepper. Put on oven rack or in broiler, and roast until blackened in spots, about 15 minutes for the oven, 7-10 for the broiler. Flip over and give another 3-5 minutes to roast on back side.

Peel eggplant and slice vertically into 1/4″ slices. Repeat steps with peppers, roasting or broiling until tender and browned, about 7 minutes per side. Same for the zucchini, which need only about 4 minutes per side, if that. Be sure to salt and pepper each vegetable.

Line a terrine, 8×4″ loaf pan, or springform pan with plastic wrap, leaving an 8″ piece overlap on each of short ends. Line bottom with grilled red pepper, cutting it to fit, if necessary. Cover pepper with layers of eggplant and zucchini, and top with basil leaves, goat cheese (if using) and half olives.

Continue making layers with vegetables, cheese and olives, ending
with peppers. Fold plastic wrap over vegetables. Weigh terrine down with several cans of food. Refrigerate for 24 hours.

To facilitate cutting, place terrine in freezer for 1 hour before serving. When ready to slice, remove weight and plastic wrap. Place a cutting board on top of terrine and flip two over. Remove plastic wrap. Using a serrated knife and a sawing motion, cut terrine into 3/4″ slices. (If using a springform pan, slice into pie-shaped slices.) Serve at room temperature

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