Not Derby Pie » vegetarian

Broccolini and Snow Peas with Sesame Sauce

rivka — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 14:29:00 +0000

This weekend, D and I flew up to Boston to see good friends and their newish babies. We saw Rachel, David, and baby Gabriel; Jess, Eli, and baby Mia. We spent the time gurgling, giggling, tickling, and jowl-pinching. And we ate, of course. Boy did we eat. Rachel made blackberry meatloaf and Jess and Eli made Melissa Clark’s wonderful Whole Wheat Cinnamon Snacking Cake (try saying that 5 times fast). But much – maybe most – of what we ate last weekend was from Plenty.

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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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Leek Latkes with Herbed Yogurt

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

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

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

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

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Twice-Baked Sweet Potatoes

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

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

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

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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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Kale Salad with Avocado Dressing

rivka — Mon, 07 Nov 2011 15:47:43 +0000

This is the latest in NDP’s Weekday Lunch series, your one and only source into the scandalous lives of my tupperware. For earlier Weekday Lunch posts, check this out.

I’m a big fan of kale salads. They’re a pop of green in a season where not much is; they basically never wilt; and given how healthy they are, it’s hard not to feel righteous eating one.

My usual kale salad combines lacinato kale – the long, bumpy leaves that are almost glamorous in texture, also known as dinosaur kale – with pine nuts, raisins or currants, and shards of Parmigiano Reggiano cheese. It’s the sort of salad that’s good now, better later. My friend (and author of various guest posts on NDP) Jeremy pointed out that over time, as the kale wilts, it takes on a texture almost like seaweed, which is quite pleasant.

Last week, in the mood for kale salad, I opened the fridge to find I was fresh out of lacinato. I did have a bunch of regular curly-leaf kale, but I knew it would take a thicker, more serious dressing to tame those wiry leaves. Where did I turn? The humble avocado.

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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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Pesto Frittata Bites

rivka — Tue, 11 Oct 2011 14:58:35 +0000

We spent this morning at a birthday brunch for our friend Matt. I’ve dubbed his wife “the hostess with the mostess plus,” because she’s simply the best hostess around. She welcoms friends and strangers alike into their home, and makes everyone feel like family. She and Matt even open their home to the community, year after year. But at the heart of the matter, “the hostess with the mostess plus” knows how to throw a party. When she received her doctorate, she threw a soiree that involved a live jazz ensemble, a chocolate fountain, and crepes to order, made by her late father, whom we all miss very much.

I was asked to bring an egg dish, which usually means a frittata. But when you go to brunch at the home of the hostess with the mostess plus, you best bring something real nice. So I went all fancy on you: I tucked my frittata recipe into mini-muffin cups. Whoa! Stop the presses.

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Easy Eggplant Curry

rivka — Mon, 03 Oct 2011 15:20:04 +0000

Somehow, D and I were hosted for all of our Rosh Hashana meals. Five times, we found ourselves in good friends’ homes, ripping off pieces of round, honey-dunked challah, and savoring slices of apples picked as nearby as Maryland, and as far as a friend’s hometown of Omaha. Five times, we ate way more than we needed to, fought to stop ourselves from taking one more piece of mushroom tart, one more spoonful of ethereal fennel soup, one more scoop of squash gratin, one more slice of my mom’s famous carrot kugel, one more bite of toasted coconut ice cream. Needless to say, we’re pretty stuffed.

(Another highlight, while we’re on the topic: my mom made a sweet-savory noodle kugel with feta. Talk about creative! I’m going to need that recipe.)

Alas, the languid pace and gluttonous eating of the past three days can’t go on indefinitely. There’s work – a new job, for one of us – right around the corner. And while, after weeks of working too hard and having little time for myself, it was great to not have to cook for this holiday, it also means that the fridge is strangely free of leftovers. Needless to say, I had to rectify that situation.

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Mediterranean Lentil Salad

rivka — Tue, 30 Aug 2011 14:55:08 +0000

With the plentiful tomato salads and the peach cobblers of a good East Coast summer, lentils are often forgotten, relegated to the soups, stews, and curries of colder months. Such has been the case in our home. We’ve plowed through pint after pint of beautiful blackberries (making just a couple of these). We’ve eaten our weight in red, orange, yellow, even purple cherry tomatoes (and fried our fair share of green ones; if you’re clicking over, check out those vintage NDP photos! My, how far we’ve come…). But the lentils, they linger in the pantry, waiting for the air to grow colder.

The lentils were hiding, for sure. But last week, I peered deep into my pantry, looking for items begging to be used – the neglected cans or bags of whatever legume I felt inspired to buy, however many months ago. Blame it on the new home purchase: I’m already twitching at the thought of migrating my whole kitchen worth of stuff, so the leaner, the better. Also: last week, I was reading about Slow Food USA’s $5 Challenge, a call to food lovers to “take back the value meal” by gathering friends and family and eating a meal that costs $5 a head. Lentils give some of the best bang-for-buck of any food item out there. They’re inexpensive, full of protein, and easy to make. Also, easy to make taste delicious.

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Green Beans with Pesto Vinaigrette

rivka — Tue, 23 Aug 2011 14:59:40 +0000

The humble green bean doesn’t get enough love, I’ve decided. We’re all so focused on bursting tomatoes and perfect peaches, sweet sweet corn and favas that take five times as long to peel as to eat (and are still totally worth it) and we totally ignore green beans. Unlike peaches, they don’t get super juicy. Unlike tomatoes, they don’t look any prettier at the farmers’ market than they do at Safeway. And I don’t know about you, but I’m so used to seeing grocery-store green beans all year round that somehow, the site of them at the market doesn’t trigger that must-have-now feeling that, say, perfect baby okras inspire. (Incidentally, I got those okras. Thrice. I started this thread on Foodpickle, the only place on the web where you can ask a question and get a bunch of really smart answers, really quickly. Then I went and made this recipe. And this one. I also floured and fried a handful as an appetizer one evening. And then, with my last batch, I tried to follow my colleague’s instructions for Bindi Masala but, let’s face it, ended up with some strange not-quite-Indian okra curry. Still pretty good. I love okra.)

Back to the green beans, which may not have had me up at 8am as I do for tomatoes — freaked out they’ll disappear before I get some — but did spark my attention enough that last week, I bagged a couple pounds from one of the farmers at the Dupont market. I wasn’t quite sure how I’d use them, but I can tell you this: once those beans were tucked under my arm, I had no trouble at all getting excited brainstorming ways to use them.

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Mushroom Turnovers

rivka — Mon, 25 Jul 2011 14:22:48 +0000

Most of you regulars probably know that in the summer months, D and I operate under a cold-oven policy. Our apartment, see, it loves the heat. It clings to every last morsel of July humidity like there’s some shortage (which, having spent the past week in town clinging to my vent, I can say with certainty there is not). Living in this hot, sticky mess, I’m so tired I can barely cook. We’ve been eating lots of salads these past few weeks, and in our near future, there’s no shortage of those, either.

On the rare occasions that I do turn on the oven (for, say, this peach blackberry wonder), I try to maximize its utility. That’s what had me making these mushroom turnovers a couple weeks back. The oven was already on, so I figured I should get as much stuff inside as I possibly could. The beauty of these triangles is that you can cook the whole batch at once, freeze them, and then pop a couple into a container any which day and call ‘em lunch.

I’ve been making spanikopita for years, both with puff pastry and with phyllo dough, and apple turnovers are a beloved winter brunch staple. But mushroom turnovers are the newest addition to my turnover repertoire. They’re easy, delicious, and appropriate for all seasons. Also, they’re pretty easy to make.

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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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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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Marcella Hazan’s Pasta with Eggplant Sauce

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

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

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Sweet and Sour Pearl Onions

rivka — Wed, 24 Nov 2010 15:02:36 +0000

The last in a series of posts on great side dishes for Tday. Happy Holidays to everyone!

Here’s one last easy side dish to top off your Thanksgiving feast. Not limited to Tday, these onions are great year round; I serve them alongside oxtail or shortribs, and they make a great complement to savory chicken dishes.

These onions get their sweetness from one of my favorite ingredients, silan, or date honey. Silan is darker, more viscous, and more intensely flavored than regular honey. It gives the onions a nutty quality, sweetening more gently but imparting plenty of great flavor. If you don’t have silan, feel free to use regular honey; the onions will still be tasty.

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Mushroom Conserva

rivka — Thu, 18 Nov 2010 15:57:14 +0000

This is part of a series on great side dishes for Thanksgiving and year-round. The first of the series can be found here.

To my mind, there are two foods whose flavor profiles are so diverse, they can taste like just about anything. One is cheese, which can taste sweet or salty, buttery or nutty or mild, grassy or spicy or altogether funky, like hot peppers or red wine, pure raw milk or bay leaves. The other? Mushrooms.

The buttons taste bland, but when you get into chanterelles that taste and smell of butter and honey, oyster mushrooms with briny undertones, and morels that sing of smoke and springtime, you’re talking serious flavor diversity. My favorites are honeycap mushrooms, which smell and taste like honey with chocolate undertones. I could literally sit for days with my nose deep in a basket of honeycaps.

The sweet taste of honeycaps comes at a price: $15 a box, to be exact. With few exceptions, I steer clear, making a b-line for the criminis, shiitakes, and maybe some chanterelles. Criminis are pretty plain, shiitakes slightly less so; when I serve these to company, I’m looking to maximize their flavor and increase their shelf life in case there are leftovers. For this, I turn to mushroom conserva. It comes from one of my new favorite cookbooks, Thomas Keller’s Ad Hoc at Home.

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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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Rigatoni with Radish Pesto and Oven-Roasted Tomatoes

rivka — Fri, 05 Nov 2010 13:47:25 +0000

A couple weeks ago, my friend Jeremy told you using the last of the summer bumper crop to make oven-roasted tomatoes. Like the diligent readers you are, several of you went and made your own oven-roasted tomatoes. But then you emailed me later that week asking what to do with the oven-roasted tomatoes you had made. Recognizing that my first-impulse answer, “what can’t you do with them?!” wasn’t exactly so helpful, I started a list of ways to use these plump little suckers. Toss a couple on pizza; pile them in a heap on baked feta and serve with pita chips; add to roasted broccoli and drizzle vinaigrette over the whole mess; and so forth.

One suggestion I neglected to share, of course, was to toss them with pasta. Ironically, that’s my most frequent use for them. I toss them with spaghetti and finish with parmesan, I add them to baked dishes like ziti and lasagna, and — as you’ll see — I mix them with some rigatoni and coat it all with pesto. In this combination, the tomatoes brighten the pesto-coated pasta, punctuating with sweetness and acid. Once you’ve got the tomatoes, the dish takes about 25 minutes to make, though the results would suggest otherwise. An added plus: this doubles as weekday lunch. What more could you ask for?

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Oven-Dried Tomatoes

rivka — Sat, 23 Oct 2010 22:05:23 +0000

Hi friends! Long time no see. I’m taking some time to let marriage soak in, and that means less time to blog. While I’m away, my friend Jeremy Brosowsky is sharing his method for preserving the last of summer’s bounty. And DC folks — Jeremy has a fantastic new company called Compost Cab, the perfect solution for us urban folk who want to compost but don’t have a garden. Check it out.

Gather ye rosebuds, my friends. And by rosebuds, I mean tomatoes. We’ll likely get another head-fake day or two, when the warm air makes it feel like summer even though the quality of the light is glaringly fall. But make no mistake: summer’s over. Last-gasp time, folks.

For the next week, maybe two, you’re going to see sad, lonely crates of tomatoes looking out of place among the hardened bounty of early fall at your local farmers’ market. No, they’re not as good as their mid-summer cousins, the ones so vibrant you want to bite into them like they’re apples. These fall tomatoes need to be coaxed out. But, oh, is it worth it.

For much of the past couple of weeks, I’ve been plowing through 100 pounds of tomatoes — that’s two bushels, if you’re keeping score at home. Most got sauced. But some 25 lucky pounds got oven-dried. It’s the apotheosis of the fall tomato. And it couldn’t be much easier.

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Pickled [Anything!]

rivka — Thu, 07 Oct 2010 14:44:25 +0000

Yes, yes, yes. I love pickles. Pickle anything, and I’ll eat it. Cucumbers. Tomatoes. Green beans. Grapes. Cherries. Watermelon rind. Cauliflower. Beets. Eggplant. Are you bored yet? I could keep going.

If you ask my fiancee how she feels about pickles, she’ll tell you she’s crazy for the sweet bread-and-butter variety, that she slaps ‘em on every burger or dog she eats. She’ll also tell you that I’ve gone mad, and that our house is turning into one big canning jar. Really. And you know what? She’s kind of right. I have gone a bit nuts. We’ve got five quarts of pickles so far, and I’m not done yet. How could I be, when only cucs have been bottled? I’ve got three green tomatoes waiting to meet a similar fate, and two heads of cauliflower, some beets, and a bag of baby eggplants aren’t far behind. Think this process too complicated or confusing? I’m here to set you straight.

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Soy-Glazed Baby Eggplant

rivka — Tue, 28 Sep 2010 15:08:03 +0000

First of all, can I just say? Your comments on my last post were awesome. I am so on board for knife-sharpening, pie crust, roast chicken, and everything in between. I simply can’t wait to get started with our kitchen resolutions. Huzzah!

This past Sunday, bubbling with excitement about your responses, I went to the farmers’ market, drumming up some crazy ideas for things to make. Sometimes, when I’m at the farmers’ market, I try to channel Alice Waters. I think about what her trips to the market must be like — lifting fruit close to her face, sniffing for freshness, really getting her nose in there to find that peach that’s just bursting with sweetness, and deciding after her trip what’s on the menu for that night, for the rest of the week. My trips aren’t always as whimsical. Yes, I pick what’s freshest and plan a meal around my purchases — but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t made the same pearl couscous-mushroom-zucchini-goat cheese dish three weeks in a row. Once I hit a routine that works, I tend to stick with it for a while.

But then it became September. (Um, when? What? I’m getting married in under three weeks. Whoa.) Newly freed from the shackles of nights and weekends at the office, I suddenly realized that tomatoes! and peaches! and corn! are just shy of done for the year. Eek! Better get cookin’.

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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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Simple Sauteed Snow Peas

rivka — Mon, 02 Aug 2010 15:00:45 +0000

Readers, meet my new favorite side dish.

We spent the morning of our first full day in Santa Fe downtown, at a farmers’ market adjacent to an artists’ market (a lethal concoction as far as my wallet was concerned). At the tail end of our stroll through the farm stands, I caught a glimpse of an overall-clad gentelman manning a fry pan set over a camping stove. I headed over to see what he was cooking, and before I could see any of the wiry, bright green snowpeas bouncing around the frying pan, I hear the crackle-snap of their dip in the hot oil and knew the end result would be mighty tasty. I stuck around. Sure enough, after a few flips of the pan, the blistered snowpeas landed on top, giving their still-green comrades a turn over the heat. Once all the peas were glistening with oil and many were blackened in spots, the gentleman tossed a generous pinch of flaky salt over the vegetables, poured them onto a plate, and shouted for customers and neighboring farmers to get one while they’re hot. I wasted no time popping one of the smoking-hot snowpeas into my mouth.

Their crunch was what caught me first: blackened where their bumpy surfaces had touched the scalding pan, much of the flesh managed to remain crisp, striking just the right balance of doneness. The snowpeas were vivid green, their juices gathering at the bottom of the plate and mixing with that lovely salt. I could’ve eaten the whole lot myself. Naturally, I bought a couple pounds of his bounty, determined to wow D’s family with this surprising treat.

This isn’t one of those stories that ends in failure. I’ll spoil the punch-line right now: for an addictive appetizer or side, it just doesn’t get more foolproof than this. You need only the most modest mis en place: a hot pan, a glug of oil, a couple pinches of salt, and the freshest, crispest snowpeas you can find. The dish practically makes itself. If you want to put them over the edge, squeeze some lemon over the peas just before serving.

If you’re making these for a crowd and don’t have a very large (15-inch) pan, make them in batches. You want these guys to really blister, and they won’t if the pan is crowded. Let the snap-crackle of the peas be your guide: when the vegetables first hit the pan, they’ll really sizzle (watch those forearms — the oil will spatter). After a while, the sound will let up. If the next time you flip the peas, none have browned on the bottom, add a splash more oil: let the sizzling resume. I’ve made these twice, and each time, the peas have needed about four pan-flips, maybe a total of 7-8 minutes in the pan. Don’t stress if yours seem done after 5 minutes or need a bit extra time — they’ll be done when they’re done.

Last night, I served a dish of these snow peas as a side dish to complement seared tuna. But the first time I made them, I served them up right out of the frying pan, smoking hot, to a crowd of hungry bellies waiting on barbequed chicken. These were the perfect low-key appetizer, just the sort of thing you want to absentmindedly munch on while waiting for dinner to hit the table.

Simple Sauteed Snow Peas
serves 6

2 lbs. snow peas, as fresh and crunchy as you can find ‘em, rinsed and thoroughly dried
olive oil
2 pinches salt
wedge of lemon

Heat 2-3 tablespoons olive oil on medium-high in a large stainless steel pan, not a nonstick one. When the oil shimmers on the surface, add 1/3 of the snow peas (careful! oil will splatter). Leave the pan alone for a minute or two, and the peas on the bottom will begin to blister. After about 2 minutes, give the pan a big toss. Blistered peas should rise to the top, and less cooked ones should descend to the bottom of the pan, close to the heat. Again, let the pan be for about 2 minutes. Toss again, to redistribute peas. If peas haven’t blistered, add a tablespoon more olive oil to the pan.

After about 7-8 minutes, peas should be cooked through but still crispy, and some should have darkened or blistered spots. At this point, sprinkle a pinch of salt over the peas, and transfer to a serving bowl or platter. Repeat this process twice more, cooking 1/3 of total peas each time. After all peas have been cooked and transfered to serving dish, squeeze wedge of lemon over peas, use large wide spoon to distribute lemon juice, and serve immediately. (Peas will also be delicious at room temperature, so if you’re not serving as an appetizer to some hungry folks, don’t sweat it; set them aside, and serve when everything else is ready.)

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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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Fried Squash Blossoms

rivka — Fri, 02 Jul 2010 01:43:12 +0000

Please welcome my good friend Jeremy, who’s going at ‘em again with his second guest post on NDP. I’m off to Santa Fe, NM for the long weekend, and Jeremy’s babysitting the blog (because 4 kids isn’t enough!) while I’m gone. Behave now…and get thee some squash blossoms!

I’m not one for begging, but I’m begging you, dear reader, not to miss out on the squash blossom.

For some reason, this extraordinary harbinger of summer seems to scare the bejeezus out of people. For the past month or so of Sundays, I’ve found myself lingering at a table covered with little wooden baskets filled with these delicate, delicious flowers. And without fail, I’ve overheard conversations like this one, between two veteran denizens of DC’s biggest farmers’ market:

“What would I do with them?”
-”I don’t know.”
“I mean, I love squash, but the blossom… whatever.”
-”I know. There must be a reason you never see them on a menu anywhere.”
“Exactly.”

Verbatim? No. But you get the idea. So let’s set the record straight, shall we?

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Two Bruschette for Spring

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

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

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

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Spicy Smoky Sour Cucumber Salad…and a Giveaway!

rivka — Wed, 09 Jun 2010 14:45:42 +0000

In my kitchen, cucumbers are always the bridesmaid, never the bride. They find their way into so many of my salads, and play supporting roles in soups and even cockails (working on a sake-ginger martini…). But still, I’ve never been one to swoon over a dish composed entirely of cucs. In my mind, it’d be like eating a bowl of nothing but tofu. Meh. Where’s the good stuff?

I hope cucs can forgive me for overlooking their star power. In this salad, this humble combination, cucumbers need no company. In fact, what makes this salad great is that without the dominating flavors and textures of their usual salad accompaniments, the cucumbers can really shine. Their fresh crunch provides a perfect canvas for an addictively spicy dressing of lime juice, hoisin sauce, chopped scallions, and the real magic — freshly ground chili powder. Subtlety has no place in this dish. The combination is at once sour and salty, tongue-lashingly spicy and utterly clean. Make enough for two, and I guarantee just you will eat it all.

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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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Mediterranean Chickpea Salad

rivka — Fri, 28 May 2010 13:30:52 +0000

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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A Corn Soup for Summer or Winter

rivka — Wed, 26 May 2010 13:40:56 +0000

First, dear readers, a housekeeping item. The spot of press that I’ve gotten over the past couple months was truly unexpected; I’ve spent a couple years in this here little corner of the web, so when people started to take notice, I wasn’t quite prepared. But as of yesterday, I’ve got a shiny new press page that shares links to places where NDP has gotten publicity, so that a) I don’t forget about where the blog has been profiled — I’m a bit forgetful — and b) I can share the good news with you, my wonderful readers and chearleaders. Thanks in advance for checking it out!

Now onward and upward, because I’ve been meaning to tell you about this soup for months.

Frozen corn isn’t exactly a staple in this house. We’ve got corn on the cob coming out of our ears (hehe), a freezer door full of six or seven different kinds of polenta, fancy heirloom hominy, and copious amounts of popcorn. But frozen corn rarely makes it through the door.

All that’s changed, though. In the past couple months, I’ve made variations on this soup at least four times. It’s a simple concept, really. Shallots are sauteed in butter (game over), corn and broth are added with plenty of good spices, and after a long 10 minutes on the stove, the soup is cooled, blended, and finished with buttermilk. Done.

But oh, you know me. I’m not one to leave a recipe alone. I’ve always got to tinker. So I tried adding coconut milk instead of buttermilk, for a Thai-inspired version. Then I added half coconut milk and half buttermilk (the perfect balance, if you ask me). I tried it with chicken broth and vegetable broth; I even tried it with plain water. (Not bad at all.) All said and done, it’s pretty hard to go wrong with this soup. The weather hasn’t even turned miserably hot, and already, it’s a staple.

But by the way, don’t wait for summer to make this, because truly truly, it’s great both hot and cold. No excuses: make this one now.

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Peas with Leeks and Tarragon

rivka — Wed, 12 May 2010 14:35:11 +0000

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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Pasta Primavera

rivka — Fri, 07 May 2010 14:47:11 +0000

Forget that crap they serve in bad Italian restaurants. (All year round, mind you. Does anyone else see the irony in that?) This is the real thing. It’s spring (did you hear?), and this is a pasta dish that shows off the season’s finest. It’s a dead-simple preparation that doesn’t skimp on flavor, and it takes mere minutes to throw together.

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White Pizza with Ramps

rivka — Wed, 28 Apr 2010 13:03:23 +0000

In the five-plus years that D and I have been together, I think she’d probably say she’s learned that vegetables aren’t half bad. Hell, she really does enjoy them sometimes. Does she love asparagus? No. Ditto brussels sprouts. But I make ‘em, she eats’ em, and we all come out alive.

It’s not a one way street, either. D’s got plenty to teach me about the wonder of simplicity. I may love my arugula salads dressed with nothing more than lemon and olive oil, but that girl knows her mac and cheese. She’s got the Subway sandwich situation down to a science. And she’s the reigning expert on homemade pizza.

I never used to want to make pizza, but these days, I seemingly can’t get enough of it. I always used to marvel at what a wood oven and ten minutes could do to a lump of dough; since giving homemade pizza a whirl, I can marvel at the fact that my modest little oven produces a damn good pie.

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Gnocchi with Butternut Squash and Shiitake Mushrooms

rivka — Wed, 10 Mar 2010 18:14:13 +0000

As you probably already know, I’ve had a pretty big food week. For one thing, I managed to roast a whole fish in a big pile of salt. I also made 2 loaves of bread, and 4 pizzas — pizzas that actually tasted as good as something I could buy, which has never happened before. If that’s not enough, I decided to take advantage of my already gutsy week and try a Thomas Keller recipe. People, the sky is falling.

Thomas Keller is the renowned chef of The French Laundry, Bouchon Bakery, and a handful of other spots. He’s certainly one of the most famous chef in America. He’s known for his particularity, his precision, and his meticulousness. Every recipe of his — even the simplest, most elemental — consist of countless steps, involve several pans, and have you running around the kitchen in a mental state that’s pretty much the opposite of the low-key way I like to cook. See why I was nervous?

If you read Carol Blymire, you probably think TK recipes are no biggie. After all, she made a whole book of them. And now she’s working her way through the only cookbook I can think of that seems more intimidating than Keller’s: Alinea at Home, Grant Achatz’s documenting of the molecular-gastronomy-heavy dishes at his Chicago restaurant Alinea. Not all of us are as adept at guestimating weights in grams, using products like methocel F50, and generally rocking out. But we’ve gotta start somewhere, now don’t we.

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Ginger Fried Rice

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

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

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

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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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Bursting Hot Tomatoes with Cheesy Breadcrumbs

rivka — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 14:05:15 +0000

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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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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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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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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Cauliflower with Brown Butter

rivka — Thu, 03 Dec 2009 14:15:53 +0000

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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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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Carrot-Zucchini Bread

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

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

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

Carrot Bread
adapted loosely from Bon Appetit

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

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

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

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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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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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Marcella Hazan’s Pesto

rivka — Sat, 22 Aug 2009 22:04:52 +0000

Basil is aplenty at DC’s farmers’ markets. This week, my favorite farmer was selling massive bags of the stuff for just $3.99. I probably came home with a good 2 pounds of basil — hard to imagine considering how light it is. There was only one thing to do: make pesto.

The last time I blogged about pesto, I largely focused on the method. Heidi at 101 Cookbooks had written about making pesto like an Italian grandmother, and I was inspired enough by her post to give the old fashioned knife-on-board method a try. The result was wonderful — chunky and rustic, with plenty of the irregularity that’s the hallmark of handmade things. But given how busy I’ve been at work lately, standing in the kitchen slaving over chopped basil just wasn’t in the cards for today. Instead, I followed the sage advice of another Italian grandmother, Marcella Hazan. I pulled her Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking off the shelf and set about to make pesto using her (apparently sanctioned) food processor method.

Before you roll your eyes and call me a fraud, it’s in her book: Pesto, food processor method. Apparently the Italian goddess is fine with it. Plus, if that’s not enough evidence for you, I once heard Lynn Rosetto Casper, the formidable chef and host of APM’s radio show The Splendid Table, say that if you go to the Liguria region of Italy, to Genoa, where pesto originated, and follow the tips from the locals to the actual neighborhood in Genoa where pesto was actually invented, the Italian grandmothers there use food processors! That was the last time I had a second thought about whizzing the stuff together.

I think Hazan’s recipe is the best one I’ve ever made. The balance between basil, pine nuts, raw, pungent garlic, and Parmigiano Reggiano and Romano cheeses is just teetering in equilibrium. I also used a truly olive-y olive oil that I got on a twitter rec (Aria, available at Whole Foods), which may have made the difference. In any event, it’s a recipe I wouldn’t hesitate to make again. So hurry out to your market while basil’s still available, and try this pesto. It’d even make Marcella proud.

Marcella Hazan’s Pesto
I doubled the recipe and got about a pint, so this makes about 1/2 a pint

2 cups tightly packed basil leaves
3 tablespoons pine nuts
1/2 cup olive oil
2 garlic cloves, chopped fine before being added to the processor
1/2 cup grated Parmigiano Reggiano cheese
2 tablespoons grated Romano cheese
3 tablespoons butter, softened

Blend all ingredients except cheese and butter until relatively smooth. Fold in cheese by hand to give that chunky, rustic texture. Fold in softened butter, incorporating it evenly into the pesto.

If freezing, do not add cheese and butter; add to thawed pesto just before serving. Top with a thin layer of olive oil, which will help keep pesto green.
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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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Cherry Pistachio Crisp

rivka — Fri, 24 Jul 2009 16:22:42 +0000

Dear readers, as you are my witnesses, I’m hereby confessing a minor addiction to sour cherries. After a year-long wait for sour cherry season, I’ve put up a pitcher of sour cherry liqueur that’ll be ready in a few short months (and early tastes have been very, very promising) and I’ve made a couple pies as well. It seems I can’t get quite enough of them. I’ve even fancied myself the sour cherry connoisseur: when a (rather gruff) farmer declared last Sunday at the market that no one could taste her sour cherries because they’re too tart to eat raw, I happily (and loudly) piped up that I eat them raw all the time and had no idea what she was talking about. As you may have guessed, we made fast friends. Needless to say, I scurried right along to the next stand.

After two juicy, bursting weeks of our very short sour cherry season, I’m still high on the cherries, but less excited at the prospect of another pie-dough endeavor. The result is mighty tasty, but it involves just a few too many minutes hovered over the counter piecing together shards of butter-flour and hoping for a semblance of evenness. This time, with a pound of sour cherries in the fridge and an appetite that was burgeoning by the minute, I opted for the easy route: cherry crisp.
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Andalusian Gazpacho

rivka — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 12:34:54 +0000

Please welcome my friend Jeremy, who was bold enough to suggest guest-posting on my blog and kind enough to follow through. He brought over a jar of this gazpacho and when I dunked a spoon in for a taste, I ended up finishing half the jar. It’s the perfect summer soup, and I’m thrilled to be featuring it on NDP.

The height of summer means the height of tomato season, and in our house that means gazpacho season. Now, this means different things to different people. Some are partial to a soup that could easily be mistaken for salsa. Others are all about the cucumbers or the bell peppers. I’ve even heard people refer to a perfectly lovely watermelon soup as gazpacho, though I’d like to think any self-respecting Spaniard would scoff at this. For my money — and we’ll get to how it doesn’t need to be a lot of money in a minute — this easy-to-make gazpacho is the way to go. My spouse and I came upon the basis for this recipe (from Epicurious) some years ago, and over time we’ve adapted it and turned it into a staple of our summertime repertoire.

All in you’re talking about 15 minutes of work for a gazpacho that puts the tomatoes right where they belong: front and center. It’s substantial enough with a hunk of fresh baguette to make for a great mid-week meal just sitting at the coffee table. It’s refined enough, topped with fresh chives, to lead off a small dinner party. And it’s casual enough to serve spoonless in teacups or shot glasses for larger gatherings. It’s just about a perfect summer soup, which is why we perpetually have a big jar of it in the fridge until tomatoes go out of season. And did I mention it’ll keep for close to a week?
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Feta Phyllo Torte

rivka — Thu, 09 Jul 2009 14:43:03 +0000

Feta Phyllo Torte

Of all the incredibly culinary feats out there (and there are plenty), one of which I’m truly in awe is the ability to consistently serve vegetarian food that fees like a main dish. As I’ve written before, one of the challenges to purely vegetarian cooking is that often, everything on the table looks like a side dish, and there’s no one thing that, when brought to the table, elicits the oohs and ahhs of, say, a whole roast chicken. There are a few people who are particularly excellent at this. One is Deborah Madison, author of Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone (one of my favorite cookbooks to read; I often find myself leafing through it while killing time at Barnes and Noble). Madison understands the challenge of creating a “wow factor” when serving vegetarian entrees, and she conquers that challenge seemingly effortlessly. Her books are endless sources of inspiration for meatless entertaining.

Another, though she may not intend to be (given her well-publicized love of meat) is Melissa Clark, a food columnist for NYT and recipe writer extraordinaire. Reading Melissa’s column, I not-infrequently stumble upon a really new idea for a vegetarian entree. One excellent example is her cornbread and broccoli rabe strata, a vegetarian Thanksgiving main that doubles as a side for the turkey eaters. Another, for a phyllo feta torte, was published just a couple weeks ago, and after reading her recipe, I had an undeniable urge to rush into the kitchen and make it, immediately.

Originally called “No-fear Phyllo Torte,” Clark’s recipe originates in a dinner party hosted by a lauded French literature professor and his Greek wife, for whom phyllo is second-nature. Clark claims intimidation, but her recipe proves her an equal master of this domain. In the torte, made in a bundt pan for a particularly impressive presentation, thin, crisp layers of butter-soaked phyllo cloak a tender filling of feta, cottage cheese, dill and nutmeg. Sound like a spinachless spanikopita? Think again: the finished product is drizzled with honey before serving, for an irresistible hit of sweet to balance the rich, salty torte. Stop me from drooling.

Clark was intimidated when she first saw the torte emerge from the oven, and wondered whether she needed to be Greek in order to make it successfully; I had an all-out panic attack when, just before serving the torte, I realized that I had used salted butter in place of the unsalted butter called for in the recipe. It didn’t matter; I had used less salty Greek feta in the filling, which offset the extra salt in the crust. Other changes I made to Clark’s original recipe include swapping out some of the cottage cheese for extra feta (since cottage cheese generally gives me the creeps, and 3 cups sounded like a lot), upping the level of dill and nutmeg for added kick, and cutting the butter from 3 sticks to 1 (because who needs 3 sticks of butter in anything? and 1 was more than enough to coat the whole torte and make the insides crispy). Other than those changes, I found this recipe absolutely to die for and would make it again in a flash. I actually served it with some homemade rhubarb chutney, which I’ll blog in a future post, and I was really pleased with the combination. The tanginess of the rhubarb brought out the acidity in the feta and the chutney provided a nice textural contrast to the torte. An all-out thumbs up from this happy eater — I recommend you give this a go; your guests will be thankful — and maybe even intimidated.

Sonia’s Phyllo and Feta Torte with Dill and Nutmeg
Time: An hour and a half, plus cooling
adapted from Melissa Clark, inspired by her husband’s friend’s wife Sonya, via The New York Times

Time: An hour and a half, plus cooling

1 1/2 pounds Greek feta cheese, crumbled (I used feta from a local Mediterranean market, but TJ’s carries Greek feta that’s pretty good)
2 cups cottage cheese
3 large eggs
1/3 cup chopped fresh dill
1/4 cup grated Romano cheese (I used Parmesan, which was what I had on hand)
1 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 1-pound box phyllo dough, thawed overnight in refrigerator if possible
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted

Greek honey, for serving (Clark says this is optional but I say it’s a must).

1. Heat oven to 375 degrees. combine feta, cottage cheese, eggs, dill, 2 tablespoons Romano, the nutmeg and pepper in a food processor and pulse just to combine (Clark says you can also use a large bowl and a fork). Clark also says the mixture should be chunky, but I made mine smoother.

2. Sprinkle remaining 2 tablespoons Romano into a Bundt pan. Drape a sheet of phyllo on top of Bundt pan, poke a hole into phyllo with your finger where center tube is and push phyllo into pan to line it. Do this with another phyllo sheet, but place it perpendicular to first sheet. The first couple of sheets will seem disorderly and may collapse some, but as you start layering them, the process will get easier and the sheets will keep their shape. Continue adding phyllo sheets in alternating directions until all sheets are used. Edges of phyllo should hang over edges of bundt.

3. Scrape cheese filling into pan, and fold edges of phyllo over filling. Using a sharp knife, poke many holes (at least 20) in dough that reach all the way to bottom of pan. Then pour melted butter over the torte; some will seep into holes, but a fair amount will pool on top of torte, which is fine. I actually poured the butter before poking the holes, and my torte tasted perfectly delicious, so fret not.

4. Place Bundt pan on a baking sheet and bake for about 1 hour 15 minutes, or until torte is puffy and golden brown. Allow torte to cool in pan for 1 to 2 hours before inverting onto a plate and slicing. Serve warm or at room temperature, with honey and/or sweet chutney.

Yield: 10 to 12 servings.

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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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Linguini with Artichokes and Sweet Peas

rivka — Sun, 28 Jun 2009 22:25:50 +0000

Here’s another round of my “weekday lunch” series, where I offer recipes that’ll make your colleagues green with envy.

Peas are one of those foods that have completely changed for me since I started shopping at the farmers’ market. In regular grocery stores (that aren’t Fairway, Whole Foods or Dean and Delucca), it’s pretty rare to find whole peas in the pod. If you want peas, you’re likely headed for the frozen section or even the canned section (though I really think that frozen peas are 100x better than canned). The first time I saw peas at the farmers’ market, I was mystified: peas come in a pod, with a couple of teeny leaves on one end — and unlike canned or frozen peas, they’re completely raw.

I’ve now made this recipe twice, and I can assure you that raw peas really make all the difference. These pictures are from the time I made it with frozen peas, and you can see that the peas are kind of shriveled in places; that’s because frozen peas are already cooked, so even a quick blanch or a toss in the pan makes them soften and shrivel. When using raw peas, you can do a super-quick blanch or saute and still keep the integrity of the peas shape. And that’s not to mention how much sweeter fresh peas are! They actually taste like….peas. It’s wonderful.
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Classic Mac and Cheese

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

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

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

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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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Avocado Tomato Salad

rivka — Sat, 13 Jun 2009 23:12:02 +0000

It’d be a shame to spend too much of this day indoors, because it’s beautiful outside and I have an all-day pool pass — so I’m going to keep this short: It’s summer, people! That means I’m barely to be seen at the grocery store, stocking up on fruit and veggies almost exclusively at the three nearby farmers’ markets to supplement my CSA. I’m high on summer produce.

Avocados and tomatoes are especially excellent right now. Tomatoes haven’t quite hit their peak, but I picked up some beautiful heirlooms this morning and we enjoyed them in salad, with a bit of salt and not much else. Last week, I had some beautiful on-the-vine tomatoes in the house, as well as some perfectly ripe avocados and some baby lettuce from a friend’s garden, so I threw together a really simple salad that’s definitely going to be a staple on my plate this season. It’s just lettuce, avocados, tomatoes, a crumble or two of my usual Keswick Creamery feta, and some lemon, salt, and pepper. It doesn’t get much simpler or better than that.
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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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Oven-Roasted Olives

rivka — Thu, 23 Apr 2009 11:50:59 +0000

In recent years, a slew of upscale pizza places have sprouted up to sate the ever-growing yuppie appetite for $13 (or $15, or $20) pies. Just look at Manhattan and Brooklyn: they’re bursting with fancy pizza points, from the old-school Lombardi’s and my favorite Grimaldi’s to the newer Roberta’s and Co., dreamt up by the breadmaster Jim Lahey. Washington is following suit, in its own more muted way, and by now we’ve actually got a few great spots for the ultimate Neapolitan treat.

One such spot, Two Amys, is a standby in this house. We pop over there at least once a month, and by now we’re buddy-buddy with a waitress, we know our favorite wine on the menu, and we’ve even found a bus that takes us, literally, from door to door.

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Spaghetti with Ramps

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

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

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

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Building a Flavorful Vegetarian Soup

rivka — Thu, 26 Feb 2009 03:28:12 +0000

Winter has no better antidote than a hearty bowl of soup. On nights when all I want to do is cuddle under a blanket with tea, I often fill a bowl with soup and slurp it instead of chai. The choice there is easy: soup warms your insides and double-serves as dinner.

I’ve been intently focused on perfecting my soup technique. As you can probably tell, I’ve been eating a mostly vegetarian diet lately, and when you don’t have meat or poultry broth to work with, building layers of flavor becomes much more important. I’ve found that my best soups are the ones where I really think hard about flavor combinations before starting, and where I ensure that every layer of flavor gets substantial attention, so that it can make as full a contribution to the overall flavor as possible.
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Edamame Cabbage Slaw with Sweet Potatoes

rivka — Sat, 14 Feb 2009 16:30:00 +0000

Hello from vacationland! We’re in Israel for the next few days and beyond thrilled to be back. It’s been way, way too long — almost two years since I lived here. I’ve missed every bit of it. Yesterday, I spent the most lovely afternoon at the shuk (market) with my dear dear friend S. We met up in my favorite corner of the shuk… A little cafe tucked in the back portion that’s locals only and serves up a mean cup of coffee. After lots of hugs, kisses and catch up, we ran around to the different vendors so that I could grab my favorite spices (more on those in a future post…) And met up with her mom, where I freshened up on my slightly-rough but actually not-too-bad Hebrew. We spent the past 24 hours hanging out with family and friends, relaxing and eating copious amounts of food. Tonight we’re planning on hitting up another of my favorite restaurants, Tmol Shilshom. There’s something at once familiar and refreshing about being in a place I used to call home; it’s wonderful to be back.

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Braised Pearl Onions

rivka — Wed, 11 Feb 2009 21:20:43 +0000

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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Zucchini Ricotta Tart

rivka — Mon, 09 Feb 2009 03:45:10 +0000

D and I host Friday night dinner pretty regularly. Being the slight lunatic that I am, prep usually starts on Tuesday, if not earlier. I start thinking about themes, poking around online and in my cookbooks for possible main courses, and trying to decide what vibe I want to create. Is this an apps and wine crowd, or more of a straight-to-the-table kind of meal? Are we going meat or dairy? (Usually we do dairy; I simply can’t part with butter for dessert.) Is it cold enough for soup or even a one-pot-meal? Etc.

This past weekend, D and I were so pooped from the long week that we decided to do just the two of us for dinner. Our friends Kira and Dina also wanted something low key, so we decided to combine forces. K and D would bring salad and a vegetable side, I’d make soup, some sort of tart, and dessert. We had challah in the freezer and plenty of wine on the rack.
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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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