FOOD ON THE FOOD

Pistachio and Cardamom Meringues

Ever since my friend Red made Ottolenghi's cinnamon and hazelnut meringues for a dinner party, I've been dreaming about their sweet, cloud-like forms. I love anything with nuts and meringue. Just say the word dacquoise and I swoon.

Recently, I found myself with a backlog of egg whites in the freezer, and if there's anything that makes Husband crazy, it's random little Tupperware containers of things kicking around that he claims I'll never use. But I will use them. You bet I will! Quickly, before he chucked them in the trash or out the window, I got my hands on that Ottolenghi recipe. I made a few changes, substituting regular table sugar for the caster sugar and dark brown sugar for the turbinado since that's all I had. Then I flavored the meringues with pistachios and cardamom instead.

Boy, was I smitten. I can't imagine a more regal treatment for those precious not-forgotten egg whites. Gluten-free folks, take note—these are excellent. Keep them in mind for Easter, when they'll serve as a more elegant, grown-up version of marshmallow Peeps. They'll also work for Passover.

Move over coconut macaroons!

 

Pistachio and Cardamom Meringues    

My only stipulation for meringues is that they be soft in the middle. Hard, chalky, dried-out meringues get no love from me.

7 large egg whites
1-1/3 cups granulated sugar
2/3 cup dark brown sugar
1/4 teaspoon ground cardamom
1/4 cup pistachios, roughly chopped

Preheat the oven to 225°F. Line two cookie sheets with parchment paper.

Place the egg whites and both of the sugars in the bowl of a stand mixer and whisk together. Put about an inch of water in a small pot and bring it to a simmer over medium heat. Reduce the heat to low, and rest the bowl on top of the pot making sure the bottom of the bowl doesn't touch the water. Stir the mixture occasionally as it heats until the sugar dissolves, about 5 minutes. Rub some of the mixture between your fingers to make sure you can't feel any sugar crystals. If you still feel some grit, you can put it back on the heat, stirring, for a few minutes longer, but you don't want the mixture to overheat. Remove the bowl from the heat before it gets too hot to touch.

Fasten the bowl back to the stand mixer. With the whisk attachment, whip the mixture on medium-high for about 8 minutes until it cools and the meringue is firm, glossy, and holds its shape when you lift up a bit with your spoon. Mix in the ground cardamom. Using a large spoon, scoop up an apple-sized amount and use another spoon to scrape it onto the lined cookie sheets. Space them an inch or two apart and sprinkle with nuts.

Bake for about 1-1/2 to 1-3/4 hours, until the meringues are crisp and dry on the outside, but still a little soft in the center. Poke your finger through the bottom of one of them to be sure they're done to your liking. They should not be brown in any way. Remove from the oven and let cool completely. Store the meringues covered at room temperature. Makes about 20.

Source: Adapted from Ottolenghi: the Cookbook by Yotam Ottolenghi

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.

Huevos Rancheros

The first thing I did when I made my deadline was to drag my neighbor out for Mexican, and then proceed to devour an entire Fiesta Plate all by myself along with most of my friend's refried beans, half a pitcher of sangria, and a giant piece of tres leches cake. Don't look at me like that—you can't celebrate a partially-completed dessert cookbook without cake!

That was followed soon thereafter by the peanut marzipan you saw in my previous post, because I can't go a whole week without sugar, you know that. Then came the huevos rancheros: warm corn tortillas strewn with cumin-scented black beans, fried eggs nestled on top, scattered with crumbled cheese and cilantro leaves, and ribboned with salsa or hot sauce. What can I say, I've really been digging Mexican food lately. I know I need to get back to work eventually, but right now, the fiesta continues!!

Huevos Rancheros

This is one of my favorite lazy meals because we always have eggs, cheese, a can of black beans, and a partially eaten jar of salsa on hand. If I have corn tortillas in the back of the fridge, I'll use them. If not, I leave them out. We eat this as often for dinner as for brunch.

1-2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 medium onion, chopped
1-2 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 tsp. ground cumin (or more)
Pinch of cayenne
Salt and pepper
1 big can black beans, rinsed, drained
1 Tbsp. chopped cilantro
Fresh farm eggs
Cheese, crumbled or grated (e.g., queso fresco, cheddar, monterey jack, mozzarella)
Small corn tortillas
Salsa or hot sauce

Heat olive oil in a medium pot over medium heat until shimmery. Sauté onions until soft and translucent, about 4 minutes. Add garlic, cumin, and cayenne, and stir about 30 seconds. Stir in rinsed beans and a few tablespoons of water. Season with salt and pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally, until liquid evaporates and flavors meld, about 5 minutes. Remove from heat and cover with lid to keep warm.

In a non-stick pan, cook the eggs how you like them. I like mine over-easy (i.e., runny). Husband likes his with the yolks broken and completely cooked. My kids only like them scrambled. You can make a whole bunch of sunny-side-up eggs at once by cracking them into different quadrants of the same pan so the whites run together but the yolks are spaced out. Let them fry for a minute or two, then add a bit of water on top, cover, and steam until the tops are set. Then just use a spatula to cut between the yolks into portions.

Heat up the tortillas. I do this in the microwave in a stack covered with a damp paper towel. You can also do it in a hot, dry skillet for about 30 seconds per side.

To serve, arrange tortillas on plates. Scatter some beans on top. Set an egg in the middle and sprinkle with cheese. Spoon on some salsa or a squirt of hot sauce, and sprinkle with cilantro, salt, and pepper. Customize as you see fit, with sour cream, avocado or guacamole, or your own homemade pico de gallo when tomatoes are at their best.

Local Ingredients
Eggs: Allandale Farm, Brookline, MA
Tortillas: Cinco de Mayo, Lynn, MA

Lemony Asparagus Hummus

 Have you gotten your hands on any local asparagus, yet?  I did.  At Verrill Farm.  Where else have you guys found it? 

Regardless of where your asparagus came from, have I got a treat for you.  I mean, besides roasting the spears with little more than olive oil and some salt and pepper.  Lemony asparagus hummus.  I can’t stop eating this stuff.  Luckily, I don’t have to because it’s just asparagus and chickpeas and a few other little things that aren’t bad for you at all. 

Just try and stop me.  I dare you.

 

Lemony Asparagus Hummus

Serve with simple olive-oil-brushed, salt-and-peppered pita chips.  Or try the dukkah-spiced pita chips that accompanied this recipe in Yankee Magazine.

2 cups fresh asparagus, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 15-oz. can chickpeas, drained and rinsed well
2 medium cloves garlic
2 Tbsp. tahini, sesame paste
Zest of 1 lemon
Juice of same lemon
1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil

Bring a large pot of water to a boil.  Meanwhile, fill a large bowl with ice water and set aside.  To the boiling water, add a generous pinch of salt and the asparagus.  Return water to a boil and cook about 4 minutes, until spears are tender and bright green.  Drain asparagus and submerge in the ice bath for a minute or two to stop the cooking.  Drain and set aside.

In a food processor, puree the chickpeas, garlic, tahini, lemon zest, lemon juice, and asparagus.  With the machine running, slowly pour in olive oil and process until combined.  Season with salt and pepper.  Serve with pita (bread or chips) and vegetables.

Source: Adapted from Yankee Magazine in an article by Annie Copps. 

Tortilla Soup for Optimum Marital Health

This recipe for tortilla soup is courtesy of my BFF who really ought to start her own competing food blog since I’m always stealing her recipes.  It’s a good use for any post-Thanksgiving turkey stock you might have on hand.  You did make turkey stock, right?  Right?  If not, please deposit your unwanted turkey carcasses in my mailbox.

It was too dark to take a photo when I first made the soup (I rely heavily on natural light to compensate for my failings as a photographer).  Instead, I fried some extra tortilla strips and set them aside in a little plastic baggie for the next day when I would be recreating the whole experience.  Don’t eat them, I told Husband.  I won’t have time to fry more.  I have a very narrow 8-hour window of daylight in which to work.  Please, for the love of God, don’t mess with them.  Then we went through the usual spousal push and pull involved with trying to verify whether or not the request was heard and would be honored.  In the end, though, he agreed.

Cut to the next day.  I heat up my soup and get ready to apply the appropriate garnishes.  Sour cream?  Check.  Shredded cheese?  Check.  Avocado?  Check.  Tortilla strips?  Che…wait a minute.  Where the hell are they?  They’re not on the counter.  I yell up to Husband.  He insists they’re on the counter, but they’re not.  They’re just not.  I check all the cabinets.  Nothing.

After several maneuvers not unlike trying to dislodge a mule from his favorite resting spot, I manage to get Husband downstairs to confirm that, indeed, there were no tortilla strips on the counter.  Or anywhere.  And now I’m starting to get mad because the sun is poised to do a swan dive into the deep, dark night, and did we not have a whole conversation about this?  I have pretty low standards for photographic composition, but I think tortilla soup should at the very least include some visible tortillas.  And he’s mad because I’m making such a big deal about chips.  Which is clearly not the point at all.

Me: FIND ME THE STRIPS.

Him: They’re not here.  I put them here and they’re not here.  I’m sorry.

Me: THE STRIPS!!!

Him: I put them right here.  It’s not my fault.

Me: STRRRRRRIIIIIIIPS. 

It went back and forth like this for a while.  Voices were raised, several levels of maturity were disproven, in what was shaping up to be one of our worst fights ever.  So this is it, I thought.  The straw that breaks the camel’s back.  Tortilla chips. 

Until…

Him: Oh…oh, wait.  (fixes gaze up over my head)  Now I remember where I put them…

He reaches up on top of one of the blades of the motionless ceiling fan and produces my bag of chips.

Him: I forgot.  I was going to play a trick on you, but I forgot…

Then he ran up the stairs as fast as I’ve ever seen him move. 

The sad thing is, after all that, I couldn’t even get mad about it.  Well, I was a little mad.  The kind of mad where you alternate between sighing and laughing and shaking your head.  His punishment?  You’re looking at it.

 

Tortilla Soup for Optimum Marital Health

Cheaper than counseling and just as ineffective.

¼ cup vegetable oil
4 6-inch corn tortillas, halved and cut into strips

8 6-inch corn tortillas, cut into bite-sized pieces
1 medium onion, chopped
6 garlic cloves, minced
½ cup cilantro, chopped
1 15-oz. can diced tomatoes in juice
6 cups chicken or turkey broth
1 Tbsp. ground cumin
2 tsp. chili powder
2 bay leaves
4 skinless chicken breast halves
¼ tsp. cayenne pepper
2 cups sharp cheddar cheese, shredded
2 avocados, pitted & diced
Sour cream

Heat oil in small skillet. Add tortilla strips in batches, frying until golden.  Drain on paper towels.  Salt well and set aside.

Pour frying oil into large, heavy pot over high heat.  Add tortilla pieces (not the ones you just fried, the other ones), onion, garlic, and cilantro, and sauté about 3 minutes.  Stir in tomatoes with juices, and bring to a boil.  Add broth, cumin, chili powder, and bay leaves.  Return to boil.  Add chicken and cayenne pepper, and reduce heat.  Simmer until chicken is cooked through, about 15 minutes. (I didn’t actually add any chicken here; my homemade broth already contained some shredded chicken.  Not a lot, but enough.)  Remove soup from heat.  Using slotted spoon, remove bay leaves.  Transfer chicken to a plate, and let cool.  Shred chicken and return to soup.  Ladle into bowls.  Top with cheese, avocado, dollop of sour cream, and FRIED TORTILLA STRIPS.