FOOD ON THE FOOD

Grapefruit Fennel Salad

To celebrate me losing all of my dessert cookbook weight, let's have a salad!

I've been enjoying this grapefruit fennel salad for months now. It was inspired by a recipe in Amanda Cohen's cookbook, Dirt Candy. If you're unfamiliar with the NYC veggie-focused restaurant by the same name or its comic-book-themed cookbook spin-off, I suggest you seek out the latter the next time you're at the library or your local bookstore. It's an entertaining read as it illustrates, quite literally, the reality of opening a new restaurant, Cohen's stint on Iron Chef America, as well as cooking techniques for vegetables. As the author and heroine of this graphic novel, Cohen dons her chefly superpowers with wit and humility. The book is great fun, as is her blog. Check out this hilarious post on how her celery salad went over at the NYC Wine & Food Fest. If you find yourself defecting to her blog, I'll totally understand!

But back to the salad. Cohen's version includes candied grapefruit lollipops and grilled cheese croutons, which are no doubt delicious, but my version is a little more pared down (read: lazy). I've settled on this basic arrangement: mixed greens with thinly sliced fennel and red onion, segmented grapefruit, and crumbled feta. The salad benefits from having something fatty and salty in the mix, so if you forgo the cheese, fill the void with crumbled bacon, chopped almonds or pistachios, or cubed avocado with a sprinkling of sea salt. The dressing, which I make with anise seeds instead of fennel seeds, is mildly fruity and refreshing. It's the perfect pre-summer salad.

(It also reminds me a little bit of dessert!)

 

Grapefruit Fennel Salad     

Below are my suggestions, but use what you like in the proportions of your choosing. Just be sure to slice the vegetables very thinly. A tangle of radish sprouts would be a nice addition. The amounts below serve two grownups. Scale up as you wish.

Salad
1 to 2 cups mixed lettuce, spinach, and baby kale
1/2 fennel bulb, thinly sliced
1/2 small red onion, thinly sliced (only cut what you'll use)
1 red grapefruit
Crumbled feta, goat cheese, or queso fresco
Chopped salted almonds or pistachios (optional)

Anise Dressing
1 tablespoon finely grated grapefruit zest (from 1 grapefruit)
2 tablespoons grapefruit juice
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon anise seeds
1/4 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

For the salad, toss the lettuce, fennel, and onion in a bowl.

Finely grate the zest from the grapefruit and set it aside for the dressing. Cut the grapefruit in half and reserve one of the halves for the dressing. To segment the other half, place it cut-side-down and slice the peel off the grapefruit in swaths, following the contour of the fruit. Then turn it over and cut between the membranes to remove the juicy flesh in between. Set the grapefruit segments aside in a shallow bowl.

For the dressing, add the grapefruit zest, grapefruit juice from the reserved grapefruit half, lemon juice, anise seeds, and mustard to a blender. Blend on high, then reduce the speed to low and slowly stream in the oil until smooth and emulsified. Add salt and pepper to taste. (The dressing can be stored in a covered jar in the refrigerator for up to a week.)

Lightly dress the greens and veggies just before serving. Arrange the salad on plates with the grapefruit segments, cheese, and nuts if using. Serve additional dressing at the table.

Source: Adapted from Dirt Candy by Amanda Cohen, Ryan Dunlavey, and Grady Hendrix

Garlicky Green Beans

Following up on my Mother's Day post, here's a recipe for garlicky green beans similar to the ones we had at Mulan. We love the basic recipe, but there are lots of variations, too. You can add 1 tablespoon of chopped scallions and/or minced fresh ginger. You can add a splash of toasted sesame oil and sprinkle with sesame seeds. Or you can heat things up with a half teaspoon of sriracha or some sliced fresh chilies. It's all good.

Garlicky Green Beans    

The kids used to hate green beans prepared this way, but now they love them. Huzzah!

1 pound green beans or Chinese long beans, trimmed, cut into 2-inch pieces
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1 teaspoon hoisin sauce (or honey)
1 tablespoon rice wine or white wine (or water)
1 tablespoon finely chopped garlic
Pinch of kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper to taste

Heat the oil in a large wok or skillet over medium-high heat, and sauté the green beans, tossing occasionally, for about 7 minutes or until they blister and brown in places but are still crisp-tender, not mushy. Remove the green beans to a plate.

In a separate small bowl, whisk together the soy sauce, hoisin sauce, and rice wine. Set aside. Add the garlic to the hot pan and stir-fry for about 20 seconds until fragrant but not browning. Add the beans and sauce, and stir until heated through and the sauce reduces to a thick glaze, 1 to 2 minutes. Season to taste with salt and black pepper.

Parsnip Soup and Righteous Clichés

I have a milestone birthday coming up this year, like many of my friends. And as much as I'll be glad to reach it, I'm also bummed out about this whole aging thing.

You know what I'm talking about. Back in high school, everything is poised to get better. The braces will be pried off soon. The glasses can be traded in for contact lenses, maybe even the kind that turn your muddy eyes a cool shade of aquamarine like a mood ring. You're finally easing up on all the Aqua Net (step away from the can of hairspray, Tammy). The ugly duckling becomes a swan and all that crap. Meanwhile, you're making a little cash throwing together sandwiches on the weekends and you feel real smart with that diploma in your hand.

The world is yours for the taking!

In high school, you can't wait for college. In college, you look forward to getting out of college because all this studying is putting a damper on your social life. Plus, you want a fun job with a decent paycheck. You want a mode of transportation besides your own two feet. Dates at fancy restaurants. A place to live that's not a dump. Vacations. Soon you have some stuff, and you like your stuff, but you want something more. You want love. You want a family of your own. Then you get a family of your own and, for the whole first year, you can't believe what a horrible mistake you've made. No more dates at fancy restaurants. Your place becomes a dump. Vacations take on an entirely new and unwelcome meaning. Sometimes you wish you'd just stayed home.

But then you learn to stop being so selfish all the time and things gets better. Your family becomes your whole life. Does anyone else have kids as awesome as yours? NO WAY! IMPOSSIBLE! And then you realize something. Your kids are halfway through their childhood already. They're going to spend the whole second half hating you. And then they're going to leave.

They say you get better with age, but in what way specifically? Nicer? I don't think so. If anything, I'm getting more crotchety and even less charitable behind the wheel of a car. Wiser? Uh-uh. By my calculations, I'm getting stupider by the day. I've always been a wee bit forgetful, but this is ridiculous. I left my coat somewhere last week. At the library? At Walgreens? Where? How did I not notice my coat was missing? True, it felt colder, but all that ran through my head was: That's New England for you. One minute you're toasty warm in your nice winter jacket and the next minute you're shivering by the parking meters fumbling for change while the icy wind sucker punches you in the spleen and there's no logical explanation for it whatsoever. (I still haven't found it, by the way. My coat. It's puffy and gray with a big hood.)

The other night I looked in the mirror and realized that it's all downhill from here. This is as smart/healthy/attractive as I will ever be for the whole rest of my life. And, I'll be honest, the bar didn't seem very high.

Is this what a midlife crisis looks like?

Spring Parsnip Soup     

This recipe is stupefyingly simple. I don't even use stock anymore, just water. It's silky and surprisingly sweet. Snip a few chives on top and you have something tasty and healthful to warm you up on a chilly spring day when your coat is nowhere to be found.

1 Tbsp. unsalted butter
1 medium onion, chopped
2 celery stalks, chopped
1 garlic clove, minced
3 cups water (or veggie stock)
1 pound parsnips, peeled, cored*, diced
Salt and pepper

Melt the butter in a medium saucepan over medium-low heat. Sauté the chopped onion and celery for 4 to 5 minutes until soft and translucent. Don't let the vegetables brown. Add the garlic and sauté for 15 seconds until fragrant. Add the water or stock and the parsnips. Bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer until the parsnips are soft, 15 to 20 minutes. Let cool and purée in a blender or with a stick blender until perfectly smooth. Season with salt and pepper. Serves 2 or 3. The recipe can be doubled (just be sure to purée the soup in half-batches if using a blender).

*Some parsnips have a woody central core that runs from top to bottom. To remove it, I usually just slice the peeled sides right off the core, which is a slightly different color. (Then chop up the sides and discard the core.) But if you're not sure exactly where or how big the core is, you can also quarter the parsnip the long way. Then you can see it a lot better. Just trim along the interior edge of each quarter with a paring knife to remove it.

Springtime and Rhubarb Crisp

So far this spring, we've had very little in the way of April showers and lots in the way of freezing cold Arctic blasts that take your breath away. But I know you're coming, Spring. I know it because the snow piles have finally receded, exposing all the computer monitors that have been dumped in the woods behind our house, sun glinting off the screens at various times of day. I also know because the turkey vultures have returned to roost back there, as they do every year around this time, lured by rumors of carrion and free wifi.

But it's the appearance of rhubarb in the markets that truly announces warmer days ahead. Nothing says spring like weird pink vegetables. I made this ginger-laced rhubarb crisp for Easter weekend as the mercury inched past sixty degrees. The first real taste of spring!

I'm ready for more.


Rhubarb Ginger Crisp     

Bracing and bright, these two flavors were made for each other. You want fresh ginger here, not ground.

1-1/2 pounds rhubarb, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 Tbsp. minced fresh ginger
1-1/4 cup granulated sugar
1 cup all-purpose flour
Pinch of salt
4 ounces (1 stick) cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces

Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C). Butter the inside of a 9-inch pie plate or 8x8-inch baking dish.

Combine the rhubarb, ginger and 1 cup of the sugar in the prepared dish. Set aside.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, salt, and the remaining 1/4 cup of sugar. Cut the butter into the dry ingredients with your fingers (pinching the butter into smaller and smaller pieces) or using a pastry blender until the mixture resembles a coarse meal flecked with pea-sized pieces of butter (you can also do this in a food processor). Scatter the mixture over the rhubarb.

Bake for about 1 hour and 15 minutes, or until the top is golden brown and the rhubarb juices are bubbly. Remove from the oven and let it cool slightly. Serve warm with vanilla ice cream.

Source: Adapted from The Country Cooking of Ireland by Colman Andrews.

Eleven-Dollar Cauliflower

Last year, I went to a restaurant where they charged $11 for a tiny plate of cauliflower. Eleven dollars!

Now before you get all up in my grill, I'm not dissing cauliflower or any of the talented chefs that prepare it. Cauliflower is delicious, and why shouldn't it be trending right now? I know that restaurants have to factor in overhead when pricing appetizers, even inexpensive ones, but still. Eleven dollars? Next time there'd better be some caviar on that cauliflower!

If you too get so blinded by your love for cauliflower that you're tempted to pay exorbitant amounts of money for coaster-sized portions, here's a tip: make it at home. One way to prepare it is simply to roast it in a little olive oil. The secret is in the browning. No pale, waterlogged cauliflower here. Concentrating and caramelizing the sugars brings out the best flavor.

Once you learn how to make awesome cauliflower yourself, you can take those eleven dollars you just saved and spend them on something else on the menu, like a second cocktail or a fancy dessert you'd never make at home. Or a whole bushel of cauliflower at the cauliflower store!


Roasted Cauliflower     

I find it's better to cut the cauliflower into flat slices rather than lumpy florets so you have as much surface area in contact with the hot pan as possible for maximum browning. Cut the cauliflower into half-inch-thick slabs and cut the core out of the middle slices. They will naturally separate into bite-sized pieces while cooking.

2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 cauliflower, sliced into 1/2-inch thick slabs
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Preheat the oven to 400° F. Coat a sheet pan with a thin film of olive oil and sprinkle with a little salt and pepper. (You might need two pans depending on the size of your cauliflower.)

Lay the cauliflower in a single layer on the pan. No crowding. You don't want the pieces to sit too closely together or they'll steam more than roast. Drizzle with additional oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Roast the cauliflower on the bottom rack of the oven for 10 to 15 minutes or until the bottoms turn a golden shade of brown. Flip and cook 10 to 15 minutes more until the other side browns and the vegetables are tender but not mushy. Serve hot.

Making Bagels

It never once occurred to me to make my own bagels. Not until I picked up Jennifer Reese's book, Make the Bread, Buy the Butter. In the book, she outlines her advice for which foods are worth making yourself and which ones are better left to the professionals. I was surprised to find bagels in the "make yourself" category. I flagged the recipe for later.

Later never came.

But last week, Husband brought home some bagels from the grocery store and they were god-awful: chalky with an unpleasant flavor. Even I can do better than that, I declared out loud, not sure if I really could but knowing that you have to talk tough if you're going to show your below-average bagel who's boss. I pulled out Reese's book and flipped to the bagel section with an overly dramatic flourish.

Here's what I learned. Making bagels is just like making bread except you boil the dough rings for a few minutes before baking them to a golden brown. (I had no idea you boiled bagels.) The toppings, if you want them, go on after the boiling part (duh) but before the baking (aha!). Otherwise they won't stick. I found it hard to get the dough rings perfectly round. I tried forming the dough into a ball and poking my thumbs through the center as well as rolling the dough into a thick rope and joining the ends. Results were mixed. Most of them came out charmingly misshapen, but, boy, were they delicious, especially warm right out of the oven. They're fun to make, too, all speckled with various toppings.

So, do I agree with the author that homemade bagels are worth the work? If you don't live in New York City, then yes, absolutely. If you do live in NYC, let's face it, you're going to be comparing them to your favorite hallowed bagel place the whole time and nothing will ever live up (and even if they do, you won't admit it). Don't bother. For the rest of us, though, here's your next Sunday morning project!

 

Totally Delicious Homemade Bagels      

Husband sure picked the wrong week to go back on the South Beach Diet. :(

3-1/2 cups high-gluten or bread flour (I used 4 cups all-purpose flour)
1-1/2 Tbsp. instant yeast (I used active dry and it worked fine)
3 Tbsp. granulated sugar
1 Tbsp. kosher salt
1-1/2 cups water or warm whey from making yogurt or cheese
2 Tbsp. barley malt syrup or brown sugar (I used date honey)
Coarse cornmeal for sprinkling
Optional toppings: poppy seeds, sesame seeds, coarse salt, caraway seeds, dried minced onion, dried minced garlic

In the bowl of a mixer, combine the flour, yeast, sugar, and salt. Add the water or whey and beat hard with the paddle for a few minutes until it comes together into a stiff dough (add a little more flour if necessary). At this point, either switch to the dough hook at your own risk (I busted my KitchenAid this way once) or knead the dough by hand on a floured counter for 5 to 10 minutes until the dough is smooth, supple, and spankable (my words—don't blame the author for my colorful descriptors). Place the dough in a greased bowl, cover with a clean, damp dishtowel, and let rise until doubled in bulk, about 1 hour.

Preheat the oven to 400°F. Bring a large pot of water to a boil. While the water is heating, sprinkle a rimmed baking sheet generously with cornmeal (use more than you think or the bagels will fuse to the pan). Lightly grease a second pan.

Punch down the dough with floured fists and divide it into 10 more-or-less equal pieces. Roll each piece into the neatest, roundest ball you can and then, with your thumb, poke a hole in the middle and coax the dough into a bagel shape. Alternatively, you can roll the dough into a thick rope and then join the slightly overlapping ends with a little water. Set the bagels on the lightly greased sheet to rest for 10 minutes.

When the water comes to a rolling boil, add the malt syrup (or brown sugar). Drop the bagels into the water three at a time. Let them simmer for a minute, then flip them over and simmer one minute more. Remove them with a slotted spoon, return to the oiled pan to dry a bit, and repeat with the remaining dough. Transfer all of the bagels to the cornmeal-coated pan and sprinkle on your toppings, if desired.

Bake the bagels for 25 to 35 minutes until golden brown. Store them in a paper bag at room temperature for a few days, or freeze, tightly wrapped, for longer storage. If you end up with some stale bagels, you can always make bagel chips (which are also great in salads and panzanellas).    

Source: Adapted from Make the Bread, Buy the Butter by Jennifer Reese who got it from The New Complete Book of Breads by Bernard Clayton, who adapted it from the erstwhile Jewish restaurant in Paris, Jo Goldenberg's.

Sticky Cranberry Gingerbread

If your Thanksgiving menu is not yet firm, and even if it is, here's something else to consider for the dessert table: moist, spicy gingerbread cake with a sticky layer of cranberries on the bottom.

Sound tempting? It's from Melissa Clark's newest book, Cook This Now. I thought the title of her book was a little presumptuous at first. Now, Melissa? Right now?? I haven't even gotten out of my pajamas, and I need to go to the store! But I'm very glad I didn't wait. I loved every bite. The bourbon-spiked whipped cream didn't hurt, either.

Here's my advice: stock up on in-season cranberries right now while they're at their peak, and store the bags in the freezer. Then you can make sticky cranberry gingerbread anytime during the holidays, not to mention delicious pancakes and muffins all winter long!


Sticky Cranberry Gingerbread (print-friendly version)

The recipe calls for golden syrup, which is a sugar-processing byproduct similar to molasses, but lighter. It's more of a British thing. I didn't have any golden syrup handy (and neither did my local grocers), so I planned to sub in honey or sugar, come what may. That is, until I remembered the jar of date syrup my friend brought me back from Israel (also called date honey). I used that instead and it was wonderful! You won't be able to find that, either, probably, but I see no reason why regular honey or just sugar wouldn't work. Follow your own instincts.

2 cups fresh or frozen cranberries (8 ounces)
1 cup granulated sugar
1 tablespoon water
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter
2/3 cup firmly packed dark brown sugar
1/2 cup milk
1/2 cup molasses
1/4 cup golden syrup (or date syrup, honey, or sugar)
1-1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
1 tablespoon grated fresh gingerroot

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Butter an 8x8- or 9x9-inch square baking pan generously. Line the bottom with parchment paper.

In a small, heavy-bottomed saucepan, stir together the cranberries, granulated sugar, and water. Stir the slushy mixture over medium heat until the sugar is completely dissolved and the cranberries form a sauce that is syrupy and bubbling thickly, 8 to 10 minutes. Aim to have about half of the cranberries broken down, with the remainder more or less whole. Remove from the heat and set aside.

In a separate small saucepan, combine the butter, brown sugar, milk, molasses, and golden syrup over medium heat. Stir until the butter has melted and the mixture comes to a bare simmer, and then remove it from the heat. Don't let it boil or the mixture could curdle.

In a large bowl, sift together the flour, ground ginger, cinnamon, baking powder, salt, baking soda, and black pepper. Beat in the butter-molasses mixture, and then beat in the eggs. Stir in the grated gingerroot.

Pour the batter into the pan. Drop fat dollops of cranberry sauce onto the surface of the batter. Drag a long, slender knife through the batter in a swirly design, as if you are marbling a cake. Transfer the cake to the oven and bake until the top is firm and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean, 50 to 55 minutes. Let cool completely on a wire rack before serving.

Source: Adapted minimally from Cook This Now by Melissa Clark.

Local Ingredients:
Cranberries: Willows Cranberries, Wareham, MA
Butter: Cabot, Cabot, VT
Milk: Stonyfield Farms, Londonderry, NH

Autumn Vegetable Cobbler with Cheddar Crust

The temperature is dropping, my fridge is full of root vegetables, my counters piled high with squash: it's about time I shared with you my new favorite fall dish!

I'm calling it a cobbler, because I'm still in dessert mode, but it's basically a vegetarian pot pie or savory casserole. Tender chunks of autumn vegetables scented with tomato, garlic, and marjoram are topped with a cheddar biscuit crust. I used carrots, celery root, and acorn squash, but you could sub in a parsnip or two for some of the carrots, and use any other kind of winter squash you like. This recipe is based on one from Bistro Cooking at Home, a book written by Boston's own Gordon Hamersley. I had many a fine meal at Hamersley's Bistro back in the day when I wrote the food column for the South End News. Since then, this book has allowed me to engage in a little fine dining without having to pay for a babysitter or try to remember where the hell to park (reminder to self: NOT on Washington Street).

Anyway, this dish isn't fussy, but it does require a fair amount of cooking time to get those veggies to be so meltingly tender. Plan accordingly. I've had several requests for the recipe at a recent dinner party, so here it is.

Autumn Vegetable Cobbler with Cheddar Crust (print-friendly version)

Don't be alarmed by the amount of liquid you add to the vegetables. It looks like too much, but it's not. Trust me, it will absorb and thicken into a lovely gravy-like sauce. I think fresh marjoram is absolutely perfect here, but you could also use fresh thyme or a teaspoon or so of dried marjoram, thyme, or oregano. 

Filling
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 red onion, cut into 1-inch pieces
3 medium carrots, cut into 1-inch rounds
1 medium celery root, peeled and cut into 1-inch pieces
1 acorn squash, peeled and cut into 1-inch pieces
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 cup dry white wine
3 tablespoons tomato paste
3 cups water (or veggie or chicken stock)
1 tablespoon chopped fresh marjoram
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Topping
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon baking powder
6 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes
1 to 1-1/3 cups heavy cream
1-1/2 teaspoons finely chopped garlic
Pinch of coarsely ground black pepper
1/2 cup grated sharp Cheddar cheese (not shredded--you want small flecks)

Heat the oven to 400°F. In a large sauté pan, heat half of the oil and half of the butter over medium-high heat. Add the onions, carrots, and celery root, and cook, stirring occasionally, until the vegetables are browned, about 7 minutes. Transfer the cooked vegetables to a 13x9-inch casserole dish or roasting pan. Melt the rest of the oil and butter in the hot skillet. Add the acorn squash and sauté until lightly browned, about 7 minutes. Stir in the garlic and cook for another couple of minutes, then add to the casserole dish.

Increase the heat to high and add the white wine, tomato paste, and water (or stock) to the sauté pan. Bring to a boil, scraping up the browned bits stuck to the bottom of the pan, lower the heat, and simmer for about 3 minutes. Add this liquid to the casserole, sprinkle with marjoram, and season with salt and pepper to taste. Cover with aluminum foil and bake until the vegetables are just tender, about 30 minutes.

While the vegetables are baking, make the topping. In a food processor, whiz together the flour, salt, and baking powder until combined. Add the butter cubes and pulse until the mixture resembles a coarse meal (20 to 30 pulses). Empty the contents into a bowl and stir in 1 cup of cream, garlic, and pepper. If the mixture is too dry, add more cream. Mix in the grated cheese just until it holds together. Let rest. (You can also make the biscuits by hand, cutting in the butter with two knives or a pastry cutter.)

Remove the veggies from the oven and take off the foil. Using a large spoon, dot the surface of the vegetables with Ping-Pong ball-sized dollops of biscuit dough. The topping should be lumpy and bumpy. Return the casserole to the upper third of the oven and bake, uncovered, until the topping is cooked and browned, about 25 minutes. Let cool 10 minutes before serving.

Source: Adapted from Bistro Cooking at Home by Gordon Hamersley and Joanne McAllister Smart.

Local Ingredients:
Onion, carrots, celery root, squash, garlic: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA
Butter, cheddar: Cabot, Cabot, VT
Cream: High Lawn Farm, Lee, MA
Marjoram: My plant that I somehow managed not to kill this year

Pumpkin Cupcakes for Halloween

I guess there's some kind of storm coming, so I've been advised to get my Halloween post up before the power goes out and/or any one of these dead trees falls on my house. I don't know what the big deal is. As long as the winds don't go much above 20 mph, it should be fine. No problemo.

Here's a recipe for pumpkin cupcakes with cream cheese frosting that you may decorate in whatever ghoulish fashion you might envision. I'm sure one of you is good at making jack o'lantern faces out of icing or what have you, but I am not. Bad things happen when I try to be creative. You'll just have to use your imagination. Keep me out of it!

But the cupcakes themselves are very, very tasty. Suffice it to say that a power outage is the only way I won't be making these again in the next 48 hours.


Pumpkin Cupcakes with Cream Cheese Frosting (print-friendly version)

This is my neighbor's pumpkin bread recipe paired with the cream cheese frosting I normally reserve for carrot cake. This recipe makes about 16 cupcakes or one 9-inch cake (double the recipe for a stacked cake).

Batter
1-2/3 cup all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
1-1/2 cups granulated sugar
1/2 cup canola oil
2 large eggs
1 cup pumpkin puree (fresh or canned)
2 tablespoons water

Frosting
8 ounces cream cheese, at room temperature (not light or whipped)
4 ounces (1 stick) unsalted butter, at room temperature
2-1/4 cups confectioner’s sugar

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line a standard muffin tin with wrappers.

In a medium bowl, sift together the flour, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, ginger, and cloves. In another medium bowl, mix the sugar, canola oil, eggs, pumpkin puree, and water until well combined. Add the dry ingredients to the wet and stir well. Spoon the batter into the muffin tins until about 2/3 full. Bake about 20 minutes, or until the middles rise and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Let cool to room temperature.

To make the frosting, whip together the softened butter and cream cheese with an electric mixer. Sift the confectioner’s sugar into a medium bowl (sifting is very important to prevent lumps). Add half of the confectioner’s sugar and mix until smooth, starting at low speed so that the sugar doesn’t fly everywhere and then gradually increasing speed. Mix in the rest of the confectioner’s sugar. Frost the cooled cupcakes, and refrigerate until ready to serve.

Note: Bring on the fresh pumpkin if you have it (sugar pumpkins or long pumpkins are best). Cut in half, scoop out the seeds, and bake at 375°F cut-side-down on a rimmed baking sheet for 45 minutes to an hour. Scoop the tender flesh out of its skin and puree in a food processor for about a minute. Set the pulp in a fine-mesh strainer to drain for an hour before using. (You can substitute squash, too!)

Coleslaw: Deconstructing My Pulled Pork Sandwich

Now that you have my recipe for pulled pork, let's sliiiide that bun over and talk about the coleslaw. Because you're probably getting lots of cabbage in your CSA shares right about now. You know you are!

Husband loves coleslaw, specifically my coleslaw. It's one of the reasons he keeps me around. For my part, I put up with him because of his tremendous dishwashing skills and the fact that he eats my coleslaw. That's not something every guy likes, you know? Coleslaw and piles of dirty dishes? My prince!

Coleslaw (print-friendly version)

In reality, I eyeball all the measurements, and it comes out slightly differently each time but always good.

1 pound cabbage, red or green, cored, shredded
1 carrot, peeled, grated
1/2 small onion, finely chopped
1/2 cup mayo
2 tablespoons rice vinegar
Kosher salt
Lots and lots of freshly ground black pepper

Set the shredded cabbage in a colander set over a plate, and sprinkle it all over with about 1 teaspoon of kosher salt. Let it sit for an hour or two to wilt. The cabbage will become increasingly wet as it releases its liquid. I like to gently squeeze it dry a bit with a towel as I transfer it to a bowl, fistful by fistful. Having the veggies not be sopping wet helps the dressing cling better instead of sliding off into the bottom of the bowl. Squeeze the shredded carrot over the sink and then add to the cabbage.

In a small bowl, whisk the mayo with the vinegar. Add lots of black pepper, but hold off on the salt for now. You may not need much or any. Toss the vegetables with the dressing. Taste for seasoning and add more salt and pepper if necessary. Let chill in the refrigerator. Stir again just before serving.

Local Ingredients:
Cabbage, carrots: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA

Chocolate-Covered Strawberry Ice Cream

Do you guys remember that chocolate sauce you pour over ice cream that hardens into a crisp, chocolatey shell? Did your parents let you have that when you were kids? Yeah, me neither. But guess what? I just made some! My lost youth has been resurrected!

I was flipping through Bon Appetít at our friend's lake house in New York two weeks ago, and there was a recipe for just such a topping. It's very simple: just melted chocolate and coconut oil. When the sauce hits the ice cream, the cold temperature causes all of the saturated fats to solidify into a chocolate shell. Yay, saturated fats!

I had a pint of ratty-looking strawberries in the fridge, so I made some strawberry ice cream to go along with it. Who doesn't like chocolate-covered strawberries, right? Well, in ice cream cone form, it makes for some messy eating so be warned. The shell slips around as you try to crack it with your teeth, and meanwhile the ice cream melts underneath it creating a drippy mess. Best to send the kids outside and hose them down afterwards. For myself, I preferred to scoop some ice cream into a dish, drizzle the sauce on top, and, once hardened, crack it with a spoon.

Because one must always use spoons when reliving one's youth. Spoons and napkins!


Strawberry Ice Cream (print-friendly version)

If you don't like raw eggs in your ice cream, just leave them out. Swear to god.

1 pint fresh strawberries, hulled and sliced
1/3 cup granulated sugar, plus 3/4 cup
Juice of 1/2 lemon
2 large eggs
2 cups heavy cream
1 cup milk

Combine the strawberries, sugar, and lemon juice in a small bowl. Cover and refrigerate at least 1 hour. Pulse the mixture briefly in a blender until it forms a chunky puree.

Whisk the eggs in a mixing bowl until light and fluffy, 1 to 2 minutes. Whisk in the sugar, a little at a time, then whisk 1 minute more. Pour in the cream, milk, and strawberry puree. Whisk 1 to 2 minutes until the sugar is dissolved. Pour into an ice cream machine and follow the manufacturer's instructions, usually spin for 25 minutes. Transfer to a container and freeze until scoopable.

Source: Adapted from Ben and Jerry's Homemade Ice Cream & Dessert Book by Ben Cohen and Jerry Greenfield


Magic Chocolate Shell (print-friendly version)

I used cold-pressed, unrefined coconut oil, which lent a subtle coconut flavor to the shell. However, if you want your chocolate untainted by coconut essence, try organic refined coconut oil, which has a more neutral flavor. This makes enough for 4 to 6 servings.

6 ounces semisweet or bittersweet chocolate (chopped or chips)
3 tablespoons coconut oil

Combine the chocolate and coconut oil in a medium metal bowl. Set over a medium saucepan of simmering water. Stir until the chocolate is almost melted. Remove from heat and continue stirring until the mixture is completely smooth. Let cool 10 to 15 minutes so it doesn't melt your ice cream.

Drizzle chocolate over bowls of ice cream. Or quickly dip ice cream cones into the mixture, sprinkle with chopped nuts if desired, set upright in a glass, and freeze 10 minutes until hard.

Source: Adapted from Bon Appetít and Jeni Britton Bauer of Jeni's Splendid Ice Creams in Columbus, Ohio

Indian Cauliflower and Potatoes

Here's another Indian vegetable recipe we make a lot, and one of my faaaavorite ways to eat cauliflower. I posted about this six years ago, but there was no photo and little in the way of a charming introduction. At least now there's a photo!


Indian Cauliflower and Potatoes (Aloo Gobi) (print-friendly version)

Again, use your discretion with the cayenne. Add more if you like things spicy, or scale it back to a pinch if you're scared.

2 to 3 medium potatoes
1 medium cauliflower
3 Tbsp. canola oil
1 onion, chopped
1 tsp. cumin seeds
1 1/2 tsp. ground cumin
1/2 tsp. ground coriander
1/2 tsp. ground turmeric
1/8 tsp. ground cayenne
1 tsp. salt
Black pepper

Boil the potatoes in their jackets until tender when pierced with a knife. Cut the cauliflower into florets about 1½-inches wide. Soak them in a bowl of water for 30 minutes.  Drain.

Peel the potatoes and cut them into ¾-inch dice. In a large, non-stick frying pan, heat the oil over medium heat. Fry the onion until translucent, stirring occasionally, 4 to 5 minutes. Stir in the cumin seeds and sauté for about a minute. Add the cauliflower and stir until it starts to brown in spots, about 5 minutes. Cover, turn the heat to low, and simmer until cauliflower is almost done, but still has a bit of crispness (8 to 12 minutes). Add the diced potatoes and the rest of the spices, and gently stir. Cook uncovered over low heat until potatoes are heated through, about 5 minutes more.

Source: Adapted from Illustrated Indian Cookery by Madhur Jaffrey

Stir-Fried Indian Cabbage

When I went through and categorized all of the recipes on this site a few months ago, I was shocked—shocked, I say—to discover that the Indian category was so empty. I mean, we're not having Indian food every night, but there are definitely a few dishes that come up over and over in the rotation (if you can call my whim-based menu-planning a rotation). Vikram Vij's goat curry is one I want to post about in the cooler months because it is completely unbelievable, as well as a variation on Madhur Jaffrey's lamb korma, another personal favorite.

But today we're talking about cabbage. Because sometimes I get sick of coleslaw. Sometimes I just want something different, and the only way to make any serious headway through the piles and piles of shredded cabbage is to cook it down quickly with garlic and Indian spices until it's so fricking delicious, you just eat it like candy. And I haven't even gotten to the health benefits, which include, but are not limited to, cancer prevention and inflammation reduction. But that's not really why I eat it. I eat it because it's delicious. The rest is a perk.

This dish only takes 5 minutes on the range so it won't heat up the house too much. Serve it with chana masala (chick pea curry) with brown or basmati rice, and you've got yourself a meal!

Stir-Fried Indian Cabbage (print-friendly version)

Adjust the cayenne to your liking. The original recipe called for something like 1/2 teaspoon of cayenne, but that's too much for me, never mind the kids. But do put in at least a pinch.

2 Tbsp. canola oil
1/2 tsp. mustard seeds
1/2 tsp. ground turmeric
1 lb. green cabbage, thinly sliced (about 1/2 head)
2 garlic cloves, peeled, smashed with the side of a knife
1 teaspoon salt
1/8 tsp. ground cayenne

Heat the oil in a large frying pan or wok over high heat. When super-hot, add the mustard seeds and cover with a splatter screen or lid to keep the seeds from flying out. When the seeds stop sputtering, add the turmeric, cabbage, garlic, salt, and cayenne. Toss well. Stir-fry until the cabbage is crisp-tender, 2 to 3 minutes.

Source: Adapted from 5 Spices, 50 Dishes by Ruta Kahate.

Local Ingredients:
Cabbage, garlic: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA

Bulgur Salad with Chard and Olives

I cannot get enough of this salad! Basically, it's tabbouli, the Middle Eastern grain salad with fresh herbs and tomatoes, but with other stuff subbed in for the tomatoes, like Swiss chard and olives. Lots of parsley and cilantro combined with a generous shot of lemon keep the flavors bright. It's good for picnics, barbecues, or hasty lunches out of a Tupperware container at work. Next week, consider switching out the chard and olives for grilled zucchini, pattypan squash, and dare I hope for eggplant? Too soon? Only the hot July sun knows for sure. Then, in August and September, it's tomato time. Wait your turn, tomatoes. You're not the only game in town!


Bulgur Salad with Chard and Olives (print-friendly version)

This recipe makes a lot, at least 8 servings, so I hope you're hungry!

1 1/2 cups medium bulgur wheat
Kosher salt
1 bunch Swiss chard, stems removed, sliced into thick strips
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice (from 1 to 2 lemons)
2 medium cloves garlic, minced and mashed to a paste with a pinch of salt
1 large shallot or small onion, finely diced
1/2 cup mixed country olives, pitted, coarsely chopped
1/2 cup coarsely chopped fresh cilantro
1/2 cup coarsely chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
Freshly ground black pepper

Combine the bulgur wheat and 1 teaspoon of salt in a large bowl. Bring 2 1/4 cups of water to a boil and then pour over the wheat. Cover the bowl with a large plate and let set until the water has been absorbed and the bulgur is tender, about 1 hour.

Wash the chard and place it wet into the pot. Cover and steam over medium heat until wilted and tender, 3 to 4 minutes. Drain the chard, run it under cold water, and squeeze it dry.

Combine the lemon juice, garlic, and shallot, and let sit for at least 15 minutes.

Gently fold the olives, cilantro, parsley, oil, Swiss chard, and lemon mixture into the bulgur. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Refrigerate until cold.

Source: Adapted from Fine Cooking and Tasha DeSerio.

Local Ingredients:
Bulgur Wheat: Baer's Best, Lover's Brook Farm, South Berwick, ME via Russo's, Watertown, MA
Swiss chard, cilantro, parsley: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA

Waffles –or– Overcoming Fear of Electricity

Sometimes you have to eat waffles for breakfast AND dinner. Like yesterday!

Husband's vintage waffle iron has been sitting unused for more than a decade. Why? Because I didn't have a decent waffle recipe. And because I'm really afraid of his vintage waffle iron. I don't like that the electrical wiring is visible and situated so close to non-removable parts that require washing. Water is an excellent conductor of electricity, as you know. I am aware that "technically" I won't be electrocuted while washing the waffle iron as long as it's not plugged in, and I know it's not plugged in because I checked it 50 times, and there isn't even an electrical outlet near the sink. BUT STILL, my mental danger bells keep ringing so loudly, over and over again, that I don't even feel like making homemade waffles anymore I have such a headache.

But all that changed thanks to one recipe. And it came from a book that I think you should know about, The Homemade Pantry: 101 Foods You Can Stop Buying and Start Making by Alana Chernila. I'll be raffling off a copy this week, so stay tuned. I made the waffles for breakfast on Sunday morning, slathered them with butter, moistened them with just a bit of maple syrup, then piled strawberries and blueberries that we picked at Carver Hill Orchard on top along with some fresh whipped cream. Holy crap were they ever good. So good, in fact, that when we got back from the Red Sox game and I didn't want to make dinner, we just reheated the leftovers and had them AGAIN.

Take that, Danger Bells, it's double waffle time!!!

Waffles (print-friendly version)

Feel free to sub in half whole wheat flour if you like.

2 large eggs, separated
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
3/4 cup buttermilk, warmed
1 cup whole milk, warmed
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon granulated sugar
1/2 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt

Preheat the oven to 200°F.

In a small bowl, whisk together the egg yolks, melted butter, buttermilk, milk, and vanilla. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. In another medium bowl, whip the egg whites several minutes with an electric mixer until they hold soft peaks that droop slightly when the beaters are lifted.

Stir the milk mixture into the flour mixture until combined. Stir in a big spoonful of beaten egg whites until incorporated. Then, with a flexible spatula, gently fold in the remaining egg whites.

Grease the waffle iron either with cooking spray or brush with oil. Scoop 1/2 to 2/3 cup of batter into the hot iron. Cook according to the manufacturer's instructions or until golden and crispy on the outside. Keep warm in a single layer on a sheet pan in the oven until ready to serve. Top with butter and maple syrup, or whatever fresh fruit is in season. Jam is also acceptable. Whipped cream doesn't hurt, either.

Source: Adapted from The Homemade Pantry: 101 Foods You Can Stop Buying and Start Making by Alana Chernila

Local Ingredients:
Eggs: Eric's Eggs, Starksboro, VT
Butter: Cabot, Cabot, VT
Buttermilk: Kate's Homemade Butter, Old Orchard Beach, ME
Milk, cream: High Lawn Farm, Lee, MA
Berries: Carver Hill Orchard, Stow, MA

Cream of Broccoli Soup

I love soup in the springtime. I tend to be a little chilly in these transitional months, even as the temperature warms. Maybe it's the moist spring air, or because I'm exiting my layers a little too enthusiastically. Or, perhaps, it's true what Husband says: that I don't possess a functioning metabolism. Regardless of the reason, I'm in a perpetual state of goose bumps from October through May.

Lately, my cravings have been running increasingly green, just like the landscape. A few weeks ago, I had a pot of asparagus and fiddlehead soup to warm me. Now, it's cream of broccoli. The following recipe was inspired by Twelve Months of Monastery Soups by Brother Victor-Antoine d'Avila-Latourrette. Even though it was published 15 years ago, the book keeps coming up in conversations with various unconnected people. By the third mention, I knew I had to get a copy of the book. I'm glad I did. French monks really know their soups!

But there's another reason why I love this book. It's because of the image I've cultivated in my mind about the author, which I should note is entirely fictional. I imagine Brother Victor-Antoine alone in the kitchen of his stone monastery in the picturesque Hudson Valley cooking up cauldrons of bubbling soup. Meanwhile, two monks, one quite young and another significantly grayer, are walking silently down the arched, stone colonnade, their dark robes cinched at the waist with rope belts. Suddenly, as they approach the kitchen, their ears are assaulted by a tirade of the filthiest, most abominable swear words ever conceived in French, English, and Latin, as well as some that haven't been invented, yet. The obscenities, amplified by the cold stone, echo across the courtyard.

The young, sheltered monk stops in his tracks with a look of horror. The older one doesn't even break stride. "The soup must be especially good today," he notes. Observing that the young monk is still having trouble recovering, he adds, "Have you met Brother Victor, yet? He has an unholy way in the kitchen, but the soup? The soup is an act of God."

(This is what happens when my new favorite cookbook is written by a monk named Tourrette!)

Cream of Broccoli Soup  (print-friendly version)

I love this &*$#@^ soup! May I suggest a light grating of the sharpest cheddar cheese you have on hand? I used Cabot Seriously Sharp.

2 Tbsp. olive oil
2 onions, chopped
1 lb. fresh broccoli, cut into florets
3 medium potatoes, peeled, cubed
8 cups veggie stock, chicken stock, or water
1 cup heavy cream
Pinch of cayenne
Salt and black pepper to taste

In a large pot, heat the oil over medium-low heat. Add the onions and sauté until translucent, 4-5 minutes. Add the broccoli and potatoes, and stir to coat. Add the stock or water, increase heat, and bring to a simmer. Reduce heat, maintaining a simmer, and cook for 1 hour, until vegetables are tender. (Note: The original recipe calls for you to add all of the veggies to the pot with the water/stock right away, forgoing the oil. You can do it that way, if you prefer.)

If you have a stick blender, you can puree the soup right in the pot. If you're using a regular blender, let it cool until no longer hot and steamy, and puree in several batches, never filling the blender more than half full. Add the cream, cayenne, and salt and pepper. Reheat. Serve with grated sharp cheddar cheese.

Source: Adapted from Twelve Months of Monastery Soups by Brother Victor-Antoine d'Avila-Latourrette. He probably doesn't actually swear (too much!).

Asparagus and Fiddlehead Soup

We've finally gotten some rain around here, and you know what that means: fiddleheads, ramps, and perhaps morels! I've seen fiddleheads and ramps at the market already. As for the mushrooms, I'm still waiting...

Fiddleheads are the coiled-up fronds of certain edible ferns. They taste like a cross between asparagus and green beans. You can use just asparagus for the soup, however, if immature fern fronds aren't your thing. For the aromatics, you have your choice of onions, leeks, or ramps. Ramps are foraged wild onions with a certain level of pungency that I enjoy. However, they were $17.98 a pound last week at Russo's, and so I will be using the 98-cents-a-pound spring onions until the price comes way down.

This soup tastes just like spring. Like a damp meadow without the mud and mosquitoes. Served warm, it takes the edge off of cooler days, and provides a sample of the warmth and greenery still to come.

Asparagus and Fiddlehead Soup

Always parboil fiddleheads before adding them to your dish to get rid of any bitter toxins.

1/4 lb. fiddleheads, soaked in two changes of cold water, drained
2 Tbsp. butter
2 medium leeks or 1 small bunch ramps or spring onions (white and light green part only), chopped
1 1/2 lb. asparagus, tough ends snapped off, remaining stalks cut into thirds
1 medium potato, peeled, cubed
5 cups veggie stock or water
1 tsp. kosher salt
Juice of 1/2 lemon
1 Tbsp. chopped fresh dill
Black pepper to taste

In a medium pot of boiling water, parboil the fiddleheads for 3 minutes. Drain and set aside.

In the same pot, melt the butter over medium low heat. Gently cook the leeks/ramps/onions, stirring frequently, until they soften but don't take on any color, about 4 minutes. Add the asparagus, fiddleheads, potatoes, stock/water, and salt. Bring to a boil over high heat, then lower heat and simmer until veggies are soft, 10-15 minutes. Set aside some fiddleheads and asparagus tips for garnish. Puree the rest right in pot with a stick blender, or let it cool and pour soup into a regular blender in two batches (never process steamy liquids in a blender unless you want soup all over your kitchen walls—make sure it cools first).

Reheat soup in pot with lemon juice, dill, and salt and pepper to taste. Serve hot with a dollop of sour cream or creme fraiche, a few fiddleheads or asparagus tips, and chopped dill.

Black Bean and Sweet Potato Chili

I need to sneak this recipe in before it gets too nice outside. Who wants chili in 70-degree weather? But I think we can expect a few more cold, rainy days in our future if I know Spring, and, when they come, keep this black bean and sweet potato chili in mind. Yes, it's vegetarian, but it's quick to make and boldly spiced as chili should be, making it very satisfying, especially when sprinkled with queso fresco or any other cheese you might have left over from the huevos rancheros. I'm always biased towards meat, so if I like a vegetarian recipe, that's a good sign!

Black Bean and Sweet Potato Chili

I cut back a little on the chipotle powder to keep things accessible for the kids. The flavors were still quite prominent. If you don't have chipotle powder, you can chop up one or two canned chipotles in adobo, or use a pinch of cayenne instead, or substitute some smoked paprika for a milder but smokier flavor.

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium onion, chopped
1 large sweet potato, peeled and diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons chili powder
1 tablespoon ground cumin
1/4 tsp. ground chipotle
2 1/2 cups water
2 15-oz. cans black beans, rinsed
1 14-oz. can diced tomatoes
1 tablespoon fresh lime juice
1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro
Queso fresco (optional)

Heat oil is a large saucepan over medium-high heat. Add onion and sweet potato, and cook stirring often, until the onion is soft, about 4 minutes. Add garlic, chili powder, cumin, chipotle, and salt to taste, stirring constantly until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Add water, bring to a simmer, cover, reduce heat to medium-low to maintain a simmer, and cook until the sweet potato is tender, 10-12 minutes. Add beans, tomatoes, and lime juice. Return to a simmer and cook until slightly reduced, about 4 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in cilantro and more salt if needed. Crumble queso fresco on top. Serve with cornbread or cheddar quesadillas.

Source: Adapted from Eating Well magazine.

Sesame Soba Salad with Shiitakes

Husband was out of town last week, so I took that opportunity to make all the food he hates. (Or all the food he thinks he hates.) Enter this sesame soba salad with mushrooms and tofu. He's never had this particular dish before, but it just seems like exactly the kind of thing he wouldn't want to see on the dinner table after a long day at work. You get a sense for these things after spending 20 years with someone. But like I said, he was gone, and it was the perfect repository for my recent flush of homegrown shiitakes.

The recipe is from Melissa Clark's latest book, Cook This Now, which you should seriously consider buying, not because of the bullying title but because your favorite blogger bullied you into it. (That's me, by the way. Your favorite blogger. In case somebody else jumped to mind.) The chapters are arranged by month so it's perfect for cooking with the seasons, especially if you belong to a particularly fertile CSA. It's one of those cookbooks where every single recipe sounds good.

Soba are thin Japanese buckwheat noodles, and here they're tossed with roasted mushrooms, fresh cucumbers and scallions, and a sesame and soy sauce dressing brightened with ginger and a bit of orange juice. There's also a recipe for tofu "croutons," which I was skeptical about, not being much for tofu myself, but then I ate half of the fried cubes before dinner was even served. Frying makes everything better, even tofu. 

I think you can pretty well imagine the kids' reaction to this meal. My eldest looked stricken when confronted with his plate. He's a great eater these days, but even he has his limits. Brown pasta? Tofu? Mushrooms that look like sea monster tentacles? Not a recipe for success. (Well, maybe the sea monster tentacles.) Both kids ate their mandatory quota of bites and then slunk off. But, boy, I thought it was delicious. I will definitely be making this again, though maybe just for my solo weekday lunches.

Sesame Soba Salad with Roasted Shiitakes and Tofu Croutons

When outdoor potluck season begins, consider this instead of your usual pasta salad.

8 oz. shiitake mushrooms, stems removed, caps sliced into thin strips
2 1/2 Tbsp. toasted sesame oil, divided
5 1/2 Tbsp. soy sauce, divided
1/2 lb. extra-firm tofu, drained, cut into 3/4-inch cubes
1 Tbsp. peanut oil or olive oil
1 1/2 Tbsp. freshly squeezed orange juice
1 Tbsp. rice wine vinegar
1 Tbsp. grated gingerroot
1 medium cucumber, peeled
6 oz. soba noodles
2 scallions, thinly sliced
2 Tbsp. chopped fresh cilantro
1 Tbsp. sesame seeds
Salt to taste

Preheat the oven to 400°F. Set a pot of water to boil.

Toss the mushroom slices with 1 Tbsp. sesame oil, 1/2 Tbsp. soy sauce, and a pinch of salt. Spread them out on a baking sheet in a single layer. Roast, tossing occasionally, until mushrooms are tender and slightly golden, 8-10 minutes.

Pat tofu cubes dry with paper towels and heat oil in a large nonstick pan over medium heat. When it shimmers, add the tofu in a single layer and let it cook undisturbed for 3-4 minutes until golden brown on the bottom. Flip the pieces over and cook 2-3 minutes more until the other side is golden. In a small bowl, whisk together 2 Tbsp. soy sauce and 1/2 Tbsp. sesame oil. Pour it into the pan with the tofu and toss for 1 minute longer. Drain tofu on a paper towel-lined plate.

In a small bowl, whisk together the remaining 3 Tbsp. soy sauce, 1 Tbsp. sesame oil, orange juice, rice wine vinegar, and ginger. Let sit so flavors meld.

Cook the soba noodles according to the package instructions. My instructions were in Japanese, so I kept tasting them until they seemed done, about 6 minutes. Drain and run under cold water, draining again.

Cut the peeled cucumbers lengthwise into quarters and scoop out the seeds. Cut each quarter into slices. In a large bowl, toss the noodles with the cucumber, mushrooms, scallions, and cilantro. Lightly toast sesame seeds in a dry pan, tossing frequently, 1-2 minutes. Add sesame seeds to salad. Toss with dressing, top with tofu, and serve.

Creamy Braised Brussels Sprouts

Want to blow somebody's mind this Thanksgiving? Serve these Brussels sprouts. Yes, Brussels sprouts. No, this isn't some kind of sick joke. They're browned, smothered in cream, then braised until silken deliciousness is achieved. Cruciferous candy. Sure, there are plenty of lower calorie ways of making Brussels sprouts, but it IS Thanksgiving after all. And today, I'm thankful for cream!

Creamy Braised Brussels Sprouts

One bite and the ThirdGrader said, Brussels sprouts aren't as evil as I thought!

3 Tbsp. unsalted butter
1 lb. Brussels sprouts (2-3 stalks worth), trimmed, cut in half or quartered
1 cup cream
Salt and pepper
Juice of 1/2 lemon

Melt butter in a large skillet over medium heat. Cook sprouts until lightly browned in spots, about 5 minutes. Season with salt and pepper. Stir in cream and bring to a simmer. Cover, reduce heat to low, and cook 20-25 minutes, stirring occasionally, until sprouts are tender and cream is reduced and lightly brown. Sprinkle with lemon juice to taste, perhaps more salt and pepper, and serve.

Source: Adapted from All About Braising by Molly Stevens

Local Ingredients:
Brussels sprouts: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA
Butter: Cabot, Cabot, VT
Cream: High Lawn Farm, Lee, MA

Roasted Delicata Squash with Quinoa Salad

Now comes the time of year when the squash situation starts to get out of hand. Maybe you get one or two squashes from your CSA pickup, but then maybe you don't cook them right away, and soon you're getting two or three more the following week, and before you know it your Husband is threatening to drop-kick them all out the back door. And he'll do it, too.

Here's a surprisingly good way to segue from summer into fall and make a dent in your squash pile: baked delicata squash stuffed with a cool, vinaigrette-spiked salad of quinoa, apples, arugula, and herbs. Delicata may be my favorite type of squash for its sweet, delicate flavor and pretty, edible skin. The hollowed-out halves make a great serving vessel, and its sweetness pairs well with the nuttiness of the quinoa as well as the peppery arugula and tart apples. Refreshing yet comforting as summer turns to fall.

Delicata Squash with Quinoa Salad

Don't cut off the ends of the squash like I did in my picture. It's much prettier to keep them intact, plus the salad will be better contained.

2 delicata squash, halved lengthwise, seeded
2 Tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil
1 cup quinoa
2 Tbsp. golden raisins
1 Tbsp. sherry vinegar
1 tsp. honey
1 tart green apple (like Granny Smith, Rhode Island Greening, Roxbury Russet, or Northern Spy), finely diced
1 large shallot, minced
1 garlic clove, minced
2 Tbsp. chopped mint
2 Tbsp. chopped parsley
1 cup arugula (about 1 oz.)

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Brush cut sides of squash with a little olive oil (reserve the rest), and season with salt and pepper. Place squash cut side down on a baking sheet and roast until tender, about 45 minutes.

Meanwhile, in a smallish saucepan, bring 2 cups of lightly salted water to a boil. Add quinoa, cover, and simmer 10 minutes (or use a rice cooker). Stir in the raisins and simmer, covered, until the water is absorbed, about 5 minutes. Transfer quinoa to bowl and let cool.

In a small bowl, whisk the vinegar and honey with the remaining olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Add the dressing to the quinoa along with the apple, shallot, garlic, mint, and parsley. Toss well. Add the arugula right before serving and toss gently. Generously fill squash halves with quinoa salad and serve.

Source: Chef Michael Symon of Lola Bistro in Cleveland, via the cookbook Reinventing the Classics by the editors of Food & Wine

Local Ingredients:
Squash, arugula, shallots: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA
Apple: Autumn Hills Orchard, Groton, MA
Quinoa: Baer's Best, Hamilton, MA (via Russo's)
Honey: Reseska Apiaries, Holliston, MA
Mint: My backyard

Folded Tortilla Salad

Speaking of cheap meals, here's a nice lunch for $1 a serving. Basically, you make a big batch of the roasted tomatillo salsa you see right over there in the sidebar and purée it in a blender with a little water. Do that ahead of time. Then fry 3 corn tortillas (not flour) one by one in some oil about 20 seconds per side until crisping but not crispy. Dip both sides of the fried tortillas in the tomatillo purée and fold on plate. Top with more purée, shredded cabbage, sliced radishes, and crumbled queso fresco. Season with salt and pepper. It sounds a little weird, I'll admit, but talk about great Mexican flavor with lots of fresh veggies. Don't knock it 'til you try it.

Ingredient Sources:
Tomatillos, onion, serrano chile, cabbage, radishes: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA
Corn tortillas: Cinco de Mayo, Lynn, MA

A Very Important Vegetable Meeting

I've called you all here today because I had a couple of revelations about vegetables over the past week that you might be interested in. Or not, but since when does that ever stop me. I'm not really sure how to import PowerPoint presentations into my blog, so I'm just going to read them off:

Bullet Point Number One: Spaghetti squash is delicious layered like lasagna with tomato sauce, mozzarella cheese, and Parmesan. Especially if you use a nice thick homemade tomato sauce so it doesn't get too watered down. Simply cut squash in half, scoop out guts, roast cut-side-down on oiled sheet pan 45 min. at 350 F until tender. Scoop out the stringy contents of one squash shell into square baking dish, layer with sauce and cheese, repeat with second half. Bake until bubbly, 20-30 minutes. The kids didn't notice that it wasn't spaghetti and I didn't tell them. The result was that both of them gobbled up the whole thing even though neither one of them likes tomato sauce. I know! I've given up trying to figure kids out, but sometimes it works to your advantage.

Bullet Point Number Two: YOU MUST MAKE THIS EGGPLANT RELISH!!!

Put aside that maybe you don't like eggplant, not to mention that what the hell is it doing in relish form? Put those things aside and keep them there. My neighbor brought me a taste of this one afternoon and it changed my world. I then made two batches in a week, using up four of those long, skinny CSA eggplants and a bunch of little ones from the school garden, as well as two red Italian frying peppers we got in our farmshare. I am crazy for this relish. It's delicious scooped up with pita chips, makes a nice side dish next to lamb, and could totally work as a sandwich topping. Husband wants it as lasagna filling. It's awesome! AND it's totally healthy—there's nothing bad in here at all. To put this in proper perspective, I've just spent the past month making almost nothing but cakes, pies, and strudels, and the only thing I want to eat right now is this eggplant. Either my cookbook blows or this eggplant is really something.

And that concludes my presentation. This meeting is adjourned. You are hereby dismissed from work early to go make this eggplant relish.

Spicy Eggplant Relish

If you peel the eggplant, no one will know it's eggplant and everyone will eat it. Swear to god.

2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 cup minced onion
1 medium globe eggplant or 2-3 long, skinny ones, diced small (peeling optional)
1/2 tsp. ground cumin
1/2 tsp. salt
1 medium red bell pepper, minced
1 clove garlic, minced
1 Tbsp. lemon juice
Cayenne to taste

Heat oil in a large skillet. Add onion, eggplant, cumin, and salt, and sauté over medium heat until eggplant is tender, 10-15 minutes. Add pepper and sauté another 5 minutes. Stir in garlic and lemon juice and cook several minutes more. Add cayenne a few shakes at a time until you get the desired heat. Add more salt if necessary. Serve warm, room temperature, or cold with pita chips, lamb chops, roast chicken, or all by itself with a spoon.

Source: An old Moosewood cookbook.

Local Ingredients:
Eggplant, peppers, onions, garlic: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA

Fried Okra

So how about some okra?!!

Hello?

Maybe the Internet is off today.

I get the sense that there's no love for okra. Yup, there's definitely some anti-okra energy in the room. And I'm thinking it might have something to do with the texture, amiright?

Slimy mouthfeel? Check.

Gooey centers oozing onto my knife? Check!

Mucousy strings as I pull the knife away? Double check!!

So fine, yes, okra is gross. Let's just put that out there. It's disgusting. I mean, if I wanted my food to look like it was covered in snot, I would have had kids.

Wait a minute.

But the thing is that okra is delicious. It tastes great! So I try to counteract the sliminess with a counterpoint of crunchiness. In other words, I dredge the chunks in cornmeal, then fry them in oil and salt them generously. That's it! Husband calls it popcorn okra. The kids are unfooled, but will choke it down since dessert is on the line. Still, Husband and I would happily watch a movie with a bucket full of this stuff passed between us, and the only problem would be agreeing on the movie.

Speaking of movies, any recommendations? Because Husband hasn't been a fan of what I've been bringing home from the library lately, and I'd rather blame you guys.

Summer Squash Soup

Do you have a lot of summer squash? What kind of a question is that? Of course you do! Thanks to all the rain we got from Irene, it's like Field of Dreams out there with the bat-sized zucchinis.

So what do I do when I have too much of any vegetable? I purée it into oblivion and call it soup! The results can be kind of sketchy, I'll admit, but this one—based on the Spanish puré de calabacín—is actually pretty good. I kept the skins on so this otherwise bland-looking soup would have little yellow and green flecks throughout. It's thickened with nothing more than the starch of the potatoes, and finished with the herbs of your choice. I was happy with my lemon thyme, but regular thyme, basil, or marjoram would also work. Serve a bowl of this alongside some toasted scali bread slathered with mayonnaise and topped with thick slices of gorgeous heirloom tomatoes, salt and pepper generously applied.

Now that's summer!


Summer Squash Soup

A little grated cheese melted in there wouldn't be out of place, either.

2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 onion, chopped (or leeks)
2 lbs. summer squash like zucchini or pattypan, unpeeled, cut into 1-inch chunks
1-2 small potatoes, peeled, cubed small
2-3 cups water
1 tsp. salt
Sprigs of fresh thyme
1 tsp. chopped fresh herbs like lemon thyme, basil, or marjoram
Lemon juice to taste
Black pepper

In a medium pot, heat olive oil and sauté onion until translucent, about 4 minutes. Add squash and potatoes, and stir to coat in oil. Add just enough water to cover and stir in salt, pepper, and thyme sprigs. Close lid and and bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer 15-20 minutes, until squash and potatoes are tender. Let cool a bit and then pull out thyme sprigs. Using a stick blender or a regular blender, puree soup until smooth (if using a regular blender, do this in two batches). Thin with water, if necessary, and add herbs, lemon juice, and salt and pepper to taste.

Local Sources:
Onion, squash: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA
Potatoes: Picadilly Farm, Winchester, NH
Herbs: My yard

Ratatouille: Summer Vegetable Stew

To continue my series on vegetable dishes that I make all the time but never document, here is my recipe for ratatouille.  There aren't many completely meatless meals that show up on my table—let's be honest—but this is one of them. Basically a rainbow of stewed summer vegetables, this rustic French dish is perfectly homey if a bit homely. Lately, I've been serving it over brown rice, letting the garlicky tomato sauce soak in to temper the whole-graininess, but it can be a side dish, too. Fresh thyme and basil keep the flavors bright. This is "food on the food" at its best/worst. Your CSA zucchini and eggplants will thank you for it, but your kids most certainly will not!

Ratatouille

This takes about an hour and a half from start to finish (if you prep your other veggies while the eggplant and zucchini are draining). A fair amount of that time is at the stove so I wouldn't attempt this during a heat wave, but the nights have been cooling off recently...

1 medium eggplant (or two of those skinny ones you get in your farmshare), cut into 3/4-inch cubes
6 Tbsp. olive oil
2 onions, halved and sliced
2 smallish zucchini, cut into 3/4-inch cubes
2 lbs. tomatoes, halved, seeded, and chopped into cubes (or two medium cans diced tomatoes in juice)
6-8 cloves garlic, peeled and mashed into smallish pieces by pounding on the side of a knife
1 bay leaf
1/2 tsp. chopped fresh thyme
Fresh basil leaves, sliced into ribbons
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Place eggplant cubes in a colander and sprinkle with a few pinches of kosher salt. Set a smaller bowl on top to weigh them down and place zucchini into that bowl, also sprinkling with salt. Let sit half an hour. In small handfuls with a clean kitchen towel, give them a gentle squeeze to dry them (I don't rinse the salt--I just add less at the end).

Heat 2 Tbsp. of olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat and lightly brown onions, about 6-8 minutes. With a slotted spoon, transfer onions to a bowl, reserving oil. Heat another 2 Tbsp. olive oil and lightly brown the zucchini, stirring occasionally. Transfer zucchini to the bowl of onions. Add another 2 Tbsp. oil and cook the eggplant until lightly brown, tossing every few minutes.

Return the zucchini and onions to the pan with the eggplant, and add the tomatoes, garlic, bay leaf, thyme, a few pinches of salt, and black pepper. Simmer 20-30 minutes over medium-low heat, stirring occasionally, until vegetables are tender but not mushy. Discard bay leaf. Season to taste with pepper and perhaps a bit more salt. Serve over brown rice and sprinkle with ribbons of basil. Serves 4-6.

Local Sources:

Eggplant, zucchini, onions, garlic, tomatoes, basil: Waltham Fields, Community Farm, Waltham, MA

Spinach, Chickpeas, and a Possible Anchovy Component

Are you getting bags and bags of greens in your CSA?  Here's a simple lunch you might enjoy: wilted spinach stewed briefly with chickpeas, garlic, and cumin.   It's a Spanish dish I gleaned from Ximena Maier's lobstersquad many years ago, around the time she drew my banner illustration.  This dish was something I often packed for lunch while substitute teaching because it's healthy and delicious lukewarm right out of my lunch bag.  And guess what?  It's even more delicious now that the school year is OVER!!!  WOOOOO!  YEAAAHHHH!!!!  TAKE THAT!!!!!!!

Anyway, I made this for lunch last week alongside marinated anchovies on slices of baguette.  These are not the incredibly salty anchovies that are listed on pizza menus or mashed into puttanesca sauce (which I also like), but rather fresh anchovies marinated in wine vinegar and then bathed in oil.   They're mild and almost refreshing.  You can find them in tapas bars all over Spain (called boquerones en vinagre), but also at Russo's in the refrigerated case near the smoked salmon.  They're great with beer.  And summer vacation!  Mark this combo down as one of my favorite lunches ever.


Spinach and Chickpeas with Garlic and Cumin

If I happen to have some olives kicking around, I might add those, too.

1 Tbsp. olive oil
1 small onion, chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
½ tsp. cumin (or more)
1 14-oz. can chickpeas, drained, rinsed
½ cup tomato sauce
1 lb. spinach or Swiss chard, washed
2-3 drops Tabasco
A squeeze of fresh lemon juice
Salt and pepper to taste

Heat oil in a medium pan over medium heat and sauté onion until transparent, about 4 minutes.  Add garlic and cumin and cook another minute until fragrant.  Add chickpeas, tomato sauce, and spinach.  Cover pan and cook about 4-5 minutes.  Season with Tabasco, lemon juice, salt and pepper, and cook uncovered another minute until most of the excess liquid evaporates. 

Local Ingredients:
Spinach: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA

Simple Roasted Asparagus

It recently came to my attention that most of the simple, seasonal vegetables I make on a regular basis are not up on this blog.  That's the problem with everyday cooking: the things you make all the time never get written down because you're too busy making them all the time.  I'm going to try to break out of that cycle by documenting more of these easy vegetable dishes, even when the recipe is simply: coat with olive oil, salt, and pepper, and roast X minutes.  Sometimes the easy way just happens to be our favorite way! 

Roasted Asparagus

Husband is addicted to asparagus and the kids are following in his footsteps.  It goes so fast I have to cook two bunches at a time. 

2 bunches asparagus
1-2 Tbsp. olive oil (I just pour and count one Mississippi, two Mississippi)
Liberal salt and pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 375°F.  Wash asparagus, then snap off the thick woody stems by bending the stalks near the lower third until they break.  I do this two or three at a time to make it go faster.  Compost the stem ends.  Set asparagus on rimmed sheet pan and pour olive oil over.  Sprinkle with salt and pepper and use your hands to toss until evenly coated.  Arrange asparagus in single layer on pan.  If you need a second pan, go for it.  I'll admit it, I tend to crowd the pan so I have room in the oven for whatever else I'm cooking.  Roast 7-12 minutes, depending on thickness of spears.  Stems should be tender when pierced with a fork, tips should be slightly dry and, with luck, a little crispy.

Cracking the Recipe: Cafe Algiers' Red Lentil Soup

I'm trying out a new feature on this blog where I take a popular local restaurant dish and try to duplicate it—to see how close (or how very far off track) I can get.  I don't make any claims about being a supertaster or anything, but I do like a good puzzle.  I think it would be especially fun because although I have some insights in the kitchen, there are also some significant gaps.  My good instincts alternating with bad judgment ought to make for some fine kitchen capers.  

It all started last month when reader Karin asked if I could help her duplicate the vegan red lentil soup from Cafe Algiers in Harvard Square.  I had never had the red lentil soup at Cafe Algiers.  However, I love lentil soup and, even if I failed, a good bowl of lentil soup would be reward enough.  Mission accepted!

Over February vacation, the family and I joined our next-door neighbors for some Looney Tunes at the Brattle Theater.  Afterwards, I ducked into Cafe Algiers and purchased one container of red lentil soup to go.  I did not try to elicit any clues about the contents of the soup lest I spoil my own fun.  I sampled the soup outside on the sidewalk.  It was indeed very tasty.  I helped myself to a bit more on the T.  Husband took a taste or three and declared it the best lentil soup he ever had.  I couldn't disagree.  By the time we got home, there was very little in the way of soup left to do any comparison testing, but it would have to do. 

I got busy right away.  My two main questions were: 1. Was the soup thickened with potato or just the lentils themselves cooked down; and 2. What the hell is in their spice mixture?  I sketched out a simple recipe and started with that, then added spices as I went along.  I tweaked and tested as only a Cook's Illustrated reject can do.  Meaning I made two pots of soup and called it a day.  I settled on no potato, though you could certainly add some if you wanted.

The beauty of Cafe Algiers' soup is its elegant simplicity, but the spices proved deceptively complex.  I think I'm close, but it's not perfect.  I'm nearly positive one of the mysterious flavors is a heavy dose of fenugreek.  There's definitely some cumin, coriander, and cayenne in there.  There's a sour note I'm missing that the lemon juice alone didn't provide.  Also a faint smoky sweetness that's maybe paprika, maybe something else.  Is there a pinch of cinnamon or ginger?  I couldn't tell, and I literally pulled a muscle in my tongue trying to find out. 

So, Karin, here's my best guess.  Make it and let me know what you think.  If anyone else can do better, please report back.  As usual, I used as many local ingredients as possible, including a lovely bowl courtesy of the Concord Shop.  I'll definitely be making this soup again and again.  The next time you're in Harvard Square, be sure to bring home at least two containers of the real thing.  And if you have any requests for other Boston-area dishes you'd like me to take a stab at, let me know in the comment section.

 

Red Lentil Soup
Inspired by Cafe Algiers, 40 Brattle St., Cambridge, MA

Heat 2 Tbsp. olive oil in medium pot over medium heat.  Cook 1 finely chopped medium yellow onion 3-4 minutes until translucent (don't brown).  Stir in 2 tsp. fenugreek, 1/2 tsp. cumin, 1/2 tsp. coriander, 1/4 tsp. cayenne, 1-1/2 tsp. kosher salt, and 1 tsp. black pepper.  Add 6 cups water and 1 cup red lentils (washed, any stones removed).  Bring to boil over high heat.  Reduce heat to medium-low to maintain a gentle simmer.  Skim foam.  Cook 30-40 minutes, stirring occasionally, until lentils have broken down and soup is thickened.  Taste to adjust seasoning.  Serve with chopped cilantro, lemon wedges, and a drizzle of paprika oil (1 tsp. olive oil whisked with several shakes of paprika).

Local Sources
Red lentils: Baer's Best, Moraine Farm, Hamilton, MA (via Russo's)
Onion: Red Fire Farm, Granby, MA (via Wayland Winter Farmer's Market)
Bowl/Latte Mug: By Waechtersbach Konitz; Available at The Concord Shop, Concord, MA

Reaching for Summer: Broccoli Rabe Pesto

Man, have I been in a dinner rut lately.  Anyone else?  I think it's the time of year: I'm mentally done with winter, but spring is still teasingly out of reach.  And I don't want to put down any groundhogs with regard to weather predictions, but I'm not sure I agree with their scientific method.

Happily, I came across some frozen broccoli rabe pesto I made with last year's CSA bounty from Waltham Fields.  I'm a big proponent of making pesto out of any and all green things: basil, mint, parsley, cilantro, garlic scapes, garlic mustard growing wild in our yard.  However, broccoli rabe had not been a pesto ingredient in our kitchen until last year, when I saw a recipe in Food & Wine's cookbook Reinventing the Classics.  It's a cookbook I'm really enjoying and will likely reference again--lots of sprightly seasonal dishes as well as some good recipes for the shiitakes I grow.  The recipe for delicata squash stuffed with quinoa salad was a particularly good find, and you know I have little patience for squash and/or quinoa. 

I'm happy to have another use for broccoli rabe since it's one of my favorite greens (I say greens because the kind I get from my CSA tends to be leafy and short on florets).  This pesto was delicious the first time around with prosciutto and ricotta ravioli from DePasquale's Pasta Shoppe in the North End.  It was also super tasty the second time around on thin spaghetti with sweet Italian sausages from the unrelated DePasquale's sausage shop in Newton and some broccolini of unknown origin.  (If your kid sees broccolini in the store and wants some because he likes the name, well, by god, buy the broccolini!!!)  Earthy and bright, this pesto was a little bit of summer sunshine after what I hope will be the last snowfall of the winter. 


Broccoli Rabe Pesto

1/3 cup walnuts
1/2 lb. broccoli rabe, trimmed
1 garlic clove
1/3 cup plus 1 Tbsp. olive oil
Pinch crushed red pepper
1/3 cup Pecorino
Kosher salt and black pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 350 F.  Spread walnuts in a pie plate and toast for 8 minutes until golden and fragrant (or toast them in a dry pan over low heat, tossing frequently, about 4-5 minutes).  Let cool.

In a large pot of boiling salted water, cook the broccoli rabe until tender, about 3 minutes.  Drain and let cool under cold water.  Squeeze out excess water and coarsely chop.

In a food processor, mince garlic.  Add walnuts and pulse until coarsely chopped.  Add broccoli rabe and crushed pepper and process until finely chopped while adding oil slowly through the feed tube.  Add 1/3 cup Pecorino and pulse until just combined.  Scrape into bowl and season to taste with salt and pepper.

Freeze or serve by boiling 3/4 to 1 lb. pasta in salted water.  Drain, reserving 3/4 cup of the pasta water.  Toss pasta with pesto and reserved water until well coated.

Source: Adapted from Reinventing the Classics by Dana Cowin and the editors of Food & Wine.