Irish Soda Bread from America’s Test Kitchen’s new cookbook, “Bread Illustrated: A Step-by-Step Guide to Achieving Bakery-Quality Results at Home.”
DishnDat will be taking a hiatus for a couple of weeks.
America’s Test Kitchen has just published two new cookbooks, and I will be reporting in full as time goes by. This week’s post is just a preview in photos of what’s to come.
Monkey Bread from America’s Test Kitchen’s new cookbook, “Naturally Sweet: Bake all your Favorites with 30% – 50% Less Sugar.”
Chocolate Chip Cookie from America’s Test Kitchen’s new cookbook, “Naturally Sweet: Bake all your Favorites with 30% – 50% Less Sugar.”
Also planned this fall is a test of some of the “we deliver the ingredients and you sweat over a hot stove” services. Are they good? Are they worth it? Are they economical? Fear not. DishnDat is on the case!
Peach and Blackberry Galette from America’s Test Kitchen’s new cookbook, “Naturally Sweet: Bake all your Favorites with 30% – 50% Less Sugar.”
Paraphrasing one of the great teenage beach songs of my “yoot” (My Cousin Vinny) that PBS has been playing relentlessly all week long, I don’t want summer to end. I love t-shirts and sandals, watermelon, tomato and corn. But let’s face it, I absolutely cannot wait for the end of the heat and humidity . . . sometime in October? I am comforting myself with the thought of veggies to come: parsnips, turnips, beets and the unbeatably scrumptious Delicata squash.
If the vegetables look wrinkled, they are, having just been steamed in the microwave!
In order to take advantage of the very last of the watermelon, Mr. Darcy and I spent two days making watermelon rind. Yes, that’s Vivian Howard’s pickled watermelon rind to you! The whole melon was too heavy for me to lift, so I bought three very large pieces and we proceeded from there.
Mr. Darcy hard at work peeling off the green.
The flesh is then separated from the rind, and the rind is cut into 1″ x 3″ pieces.
The rind is then submerged in a water and salt brine overnight.
Does anyone else remember those pretty Lilly Pulitzer summer dresses? P.S. The pink should not be there, but it was the best I could do!
The rind is rinsed and then placed in a vinegar and spice brine and cooked for 40 minutes. Some goes straight to the refrigerator and some to a hot water bath to be canned for mementos of summer during the cold and the slush of winter.
The rind takes on a slightly orange cast coming out of the salt and water brine. Reason not to leave any pink!
Digression: What to do with all that leftover watermelon? Well, if watermelons are getting less and less “cherse” (Pat and Mike) as we approach Labor Day, so are tomatoes. Put watermelon and tomatoes together with some feta cheese, and add olive oil and white balsamic vinegar for a refreshing end of summer salad.
As a farewell to corn on the cob, I made a Blue Apron corn side dish, modified with tzatziki instead of crème fraîche, gojuchang instead of shishito peppers, plus lots of lime juice and lime zest. Grazie 1000 to La Bellezza for bringing this recipe and so many other great recipes to DishnDat’s attention!
Back on track: Vivian says you don’t want the spice and vinegar brine to cook down to a syrup, but Kevin West says you do. I’m kind of with Kevin on that one, but I will let you know when I’ve waited the requisite one to two weeks before eating. In any event, most likely neither will compare to BFF’s Great-Aunt Florence’s pickled watermelon rind. GAF, or as I like to think of her, “Great Aunt Hortense” from Tom Lehrer’s Smut (“As the judge remarked the day that he acquitted Great Aunt Hortense, ‘to be smut it must be UT-terly without redeeming social importance!'”), who allowed NONE of the pink watermelon flesh and declared that “other people are sloppy about this.” <erp> Guilty as charged, GAF. Guilty as charged.
And now to clean up my sticky counters. Labor Day awaits. Hurricane Hermine lurks, and the heat and humidity are due to return with a vengeance by the end of the week. Happy Holiday!
P.S. If words are sticking together in recent posts, it is not for failure to proofread; I am trying to fix a glitch in the code. Sigh. It’s not going too well!
Ah. The annual glut of zucchini and summer squash. Oh.The annual scramble to find recipes. But not for me. As has been well documented in these pages, I am no lover of summer squash and, thankfully, I don’t have neighbors who ply me with their surplus zucchini. No. I am just trolling the internet looking for more Vivian Howard recipes as I count the days before her cookbook is released. Oh yes. It’s been preordered from Amazon!
Vivian Howard’s Summer Squash Casserole
Spray for the casserole dish
4 tablespoons cornmeal
2 tablespoons bacon fat
4 cups yellow onions, halved and thinly sliced
4 large garlic cloves, minced
6- 8 cups medium yellow squash and zucchini, sliced fairly thin and then into half moons
3 teaspoons finely chopped fresh sage
1 teaspoon finely chopped rosemary
2 teaspoons kosher salt
1 teaspoon ground black pepper 2 cups grated Fontina* 2 large eggs, beaten
*I couldn’t bear the thought of all that cheese for just the two of us, so I used only one cup. It was still very good, but it would have been so much better with two cups! I GARONTEE IT. Oh wait. Wrong dialect! That chef was from Looosiana, not EasCarolahna! Oh WELL.
A summer squash casserole!
Heat oven to 350°;
Spray a casserole dish and cover the bottom and sides with the corn meal;
In a large pan, heat the bacon fat, add the onions and garlic and cook until translucent and very soft;
Add the squash, sage, rosemary, salt and pepper, and cook about 40 minutes on medium heat, or until the pieces begin to brown*;
Remove from the heat and add the cheese and the eggs;
Put the mixture into the casserole and bake, uncovered, for 45 minutes, or until the top and the sides are brown.
*A treat for the chef: pour off the pan juices and drink them. The sweetness of the squash and
onion liquids combine with the richness of the bacon fat and the fragrance of the
sage and rosemary and creates ambrosia. You deserve it!
This was our entire dinner, and Mr. Darcy loved it. Summer squash lover that I am not, I would
certainly make this dish again! It is creamy, custardy, cheesy and rich, and the corn flour
creates an almost pie-like base. It would be a perfect side dish with meat, chicken or fish. I was
just too lazy to cook one more thing! And that’s all I’ve got for you on this lazy Sunday!
For those who, like me, cannot get enough of either Blueberry BBQ Sauce or Vivian Howard’s recipes, here is last night’s dinner, Blueberry BBQ Chicken Flatbread.
Blueberry BBQ Chicken Flatbread from Vivian Howard
The DishnDat twist? Well, it was my own pizza dough recipe. I made the Blueberry Barbeque Chicken, used a combination of mozzarella and fontina cheeses instead of the smoked gouda. Don’t like smoked gouda, and didn’t have any jalapeños. Still, absolutely delicious and one of the best things I’ve ever eaten.
A new Italian restaurant opened in our neighborhood, which is all it takes to make Mr. Darcy happy. But when I saw fregola on the menu , I realized that this Italian has a Sardinian accent, and I put it on the list for a lunchtime audition. What they served was not the fregola that I learned at Giuliano Bugiali’s knee. It was much larger, smooth and round, and without the clumps that are characteristic of the fregola that I was familiar with. Subsequent research informed me that this is Fregola Sarda. Think toasted Israeli couscous, and you’ve got the picture.
Basically, fregola, a/k/a/ Italian couscous, is a saffron-scented Sardinian toasted pasta made from couscous. It is perfect for fish and seafood, and just delicious all by itself with a simple summer tomato sauce or caramelized onions and cheese.
You can buy fregola, but that takes all the fun out of it. To make it yourself, all you need is a sheet pan, two measuring cups, and your own two hands. It’s a great rainy day activity with the kiddos or grandkiddos. Or not.
1 pound couscous (not pre-cooked)
1/2 cup cold water
3 jumbo egg yolks
2 generous pinches saffron
1 pinch salt
Preheat oven to 375°
Prepare one cup measure with the water; and another with the egg yolks, salt and saffron, mixed well;
Spread out the couscous on the sheet pan;
Add the cold water, little by little, starting in the center;
Working outward, incorporate the couscous using your hands;
Working slowly, add the water, incorporating more and more of the couscous until the water is gone and all the grains have absorbed the water;
Rub (“fregare” in Italian means “to rub” — that’s the clean version* ) the couscous between your hands to keep the grains separate and uniform;
The grains will swell;
When your hands are completely dry, you are done;
Spread out the couscous on the sheet pan again;
Repeat the same process with the egg mixture;
The grains will swell once again;
Once again, when your hands are dry, you are done;
Spread out the couscous on the sheet pan and place in the preheated oven;
Bake for 10 minutes or until couscous is dry;
Turn down oven to lowest it will go, and leave the fregola for 3 hours, but don’t let it turn brown;
Let cool completely, and store in a jar, tightly closed.
And here it is: One, Two, Three!
Rub in the water.
Rub in the eggs.
Now, that was the easy way. There is a more time-consuming way , one that involves repeating the rubbing and baking three times. With this method, you will get the characteristic clumps.
*According to our friend, La Bellezza, “in the NE fregola means ‘crumb,’ but can also mean ‘urge.’ To be ‘in fregola’ is to be in heat.”
A Ricotta Tart by Yotam Ottolenghi caught my eye, but it was too hot to do any marketing, so I decided to use it as inspiration and to adapt it to whatever was in the pantry. Well, I did have to go out and buy a container of ricotta, but I almost passed out from the heat! They weren’t kidding when they said it would feel like 110°! I had a supply of roasted tomatoes, leftover spinach, and some baby eggplants that I wanted to get rid of. They had more seeds than flesh and I had no idea what to do with them.
So here is the DishnDat version with tomatoes, eggplant, spinach and phyllo dough.
Vegetable Ricotta Pie
½ package phyllo dough at room temperature
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 large onion, peeled and sliced thin
5 garlic cloves, peeled and chopped or pushed through a garlic press
3 whole eggs
2 egg yolks
1 15 oz. container ricotta
1 knob parmigiano-reggiano, grated
Two large handfuls of chopped basil leaves, chopped
½ tsp salt
½ tsp black pepper
1 cup roasted tomatoes and their oil
1 handful leftover spinach leaves
8 tiny eggplants, roasted, split and seeded
1 small fresh mozzarella ball, cut in half and sliced into half-moons
Lightly brush a 10″ or 11″ pie plate with olive oil;
Heat two tablespoons of olive oil in a large pan, add the sliced onions and garlic and allow to caramelize until deep golden brown;
Gently open the phyllo dough and begin to spread over the pie pan, layer by layer, tucking in the overhang;
Lightly brush each layer with olive oil;
With a hand mixer beat the eggs until very light and fluffy;
Gently add the ricotta, the onions and garlic, the chopped basil, and the salt and pepper;
Pour the entire mixture into the phyllo crust and bake for 45 minutes;
Meanwhile prepare the toppings: using a hand blender mix the tomatoes, parm-regg, spinach, and a pinch of salt until smooth;
Remove pie from oven and lower heat to 300°;
Spread the tomato mixture over the top of the pie;
Decorate with eggplant halves and mozzarella, and return to the oven to bake for 10 minutes.
The pie can be eaten right out of the oven, cooled to room temperature, or cold the next morning if you’ve run out of cold pizza!
Surprisingly, the hit of the weekend was a stab at a homely dish of letils and rice known variously as Majudra, Mujadara, Majaderrah, Mengedarrah, Mejadra, Mujaderra, et al., which we can refer to as “M,” a dish claimed by Jews, Arabs, Indians, and probably many others throughout the Levant and beyond.
“M” is for “Mourning” and Jacob’s “Mess of pottage.”
In traditional Judaism, M is a dish made for times of mourning, like the days preceding the fast of Tisha B’ Av, an annual period of mourning. M is a dish of lentils, rice, fried onions, and sometimes hard-boiled eggs and yogurt. It’s an aromatic, light and fluffy pilaf to which the onions provide a counterpoint of both bitter and sweet. Cinnamon, allspice and turmeric provide a fragrant punch, and the toasted cumin and coriander seeds, in addition to flavor and aroma, give it the same kind of surprising and satisfying crunch you find in a bowl of Bibimbap.
M is an economical dish that is packed with protein. The lentils are not just nutritious, but symbolic of mourning in two ways: First, they are round and signify the circle of life; second, unlike other legumes, they have no opening or “mouth,” just like the mourner who has no “mouth” or words to express grief and must suffer in silence. For this version, I used Sami Tamimi’s recipe for Mejadra from Ottolenghi and Tamimi’s Jerusalem. (I also recommend Tori Avey’s recipe from The Shiksa in the Kitchen.) I used black lentils and red basmati rice, and I didn’t fry the onions, but finished off a stash of caramelized onions that was in the refrigerator. Fried onions are preferable, because they add welcome texture, and because everything is better fried. Duh. I also added sumac onions, because I add them to everything, and instead of plain yogurt, I like tzatziki. The best. M is a dish that is very simple and plain, befitting the occasion, yet, once you start eating it, you can’t stop. But go easy, because it should last for a few days. Try if for breakfast scrambled up with eggs. Like any “pottage,” you can pretty much add anything to it as you go along. Without meat, it’s a dish for somber times; with meat, it’s a dish for celebrations. The best part is you don’t have to be either Jewish or in mourning.
You remember Vivian Howard from last week, right? The blueberry vinegar BBQ chicken chick? If you haven’t watched her PBS program, A Chef’s Life, I highly recommend it. Even Mr. Darcy, who has no interest in where food comes from or how it is prepared, likes it. But, then again, she is a very pretty woman. Bless his heart.
I am collecting all of her recipes that I can find on line (Cornbread Coffee Cake with Fresh Figs, and Chocolate Cake with Beets), and will be reporting on same in the weeks to come. Note to Vivian: Hey, girl, hey! I am just sitting here waiting for your cookbook to be released (the day after my birthday!) Pre-ordered on Amazon. I made your Southern Tomato Pie this weekend, and we enjoyed it so much that I made four more crusts for the freezer.
Southern Tomato Pie is a dish I first heard of on my first trip to Charleston, S.C. At the hotel, I asked the concierge where to go to learn all I could about Southern food . . . in three days. When I told her that I was even willing to eat okra, she leaned over the counter and told me, sotto voce, to go straight to the Dixie Supply Bakery and Cafe and eat everything on the menu, especially the tomato pie. Which I did. Except for the tomato pie. It sold out every day just as soon as I got to the front of the line! But for all other Southern food? They have been the gold standard for me ever since. Shrimp and grits? Oh, don’t even talk to me!
The. Best. Ever. What can I say? The best American literature and the best American food come from the South. American qua American, of course; I don’t wear an onion roll on my head.
So, anyway, when I saw Vivian Howard’s recipe for Southern Tomato Pie, I thought, hmmmm, this is my chance to taste a real southern tomato pie. Well, of course, how would I know? I guess if I like it, it must be authentic!
The recipe is time-consuming, but not difficult. It’s two kinds of tomatoes three ways, caramelized onions (and thanks, Vivian, for not saying that the onions will caramelize in 10 minutes!), two kinds of cheese (fontina and parm-regg), basil, and mayo. Honh? Mayo? Fuggedaboutit. It works. The crust is as thin as a cookie and, even though it is not sweet, it is so delicious and distinctive that it could be eaten just like a cookie. Alone. I kid you not. The blend of tomatoes, cheeses, and mayo is exactly right. The result is sweet and salty, chewy, smooth and crunchy. All the things that make your mouth happy. This is a dish you will keep eating until it’s all gone (hey, who ate my pie?), all the while looking forward to the next time.
The crust can be made in the food processor: just keep a couple of extra tablespoons of ice water handy so that the dough comes together quickly.
Onions on their way to a deep caramel.
Cubed tomatoes draining with sugar and salt.
Cubed tomatoes going into the oven with salt, thyme and olive oil.
Cubed tomatoes coming out of the oven with a nice roast on them.
For the filling, mix the raw and roasted tomatoes, and the onions. Scoop into the baked pie crust and add the cheeses, the mayo and the basil, which have been mixed together in a separate bowl. Top with thin slices of Roma tomatoes. Bake. This recipe makes even mediocre tomatoes taste as if they have been just picked from the vine.
In a bread-baking mood (and when am I not?). I’ve been tempted for a while now to try King Arthur Flour’s sprouted wheat flour, and the bag arrived a few days ago. For Mr. Darcy’s snacking pleasure, I made KAF’S Sprouted Wheat Vanilla Chai Bars. Before you say, “Oh, good. Healthy,” I should tell you that the recipe calls for two (count’ em, 2) cups of sugar. So much for whole wheat healthiness. Every notice that anything touted as low-fat (or lo-fat) never mentions that they are also high- (or hi-) sugar? Whatever is made healthier by reducing the fat, it seems, is made less healthy by far by adding in ton of sugar and other sweeteners. That’s right. You can’t win. Both the dough and the topping contain KAF’s Chai Spice, a blend of ginger, cinnamon, cardamom, allspice, anise, and black pepper. As a result, the cookies have a gingerbread plus flavor, and the really good chewy texture of a brownie. They go equally well with both coffee and tea. So, dunk alors!
From the side of the sprouted wheat flour bag, I made some sprouted wheat raisin bread.
Nice. Not thrilling.
While on a raisin bread roll, I gave KAF’s Harvest Bread with sweet potato and raisins a whirl. Any old raisin bread satisfies Mr. Darcy, and these were fine, but not terribly interesting.
Love the color from the sweet potato.
And, speaking of women I admire, you must know that my amazingly creative, talented and resourceful niece — the real chef in the family — started Vermont Amber, a toffee company. You will not believe the flavors she has come up with: salted sesame, cacao nib, ginger cookie, fennel, sun-dried tomatoes, in addition to the usual suspects. This is not the jaw-breaking toffee sugar chunks you probably remember from your childhood, but thin and meltinyourmouth flavor shots. If you are ever at a loss for a gift, or party favors, or you are or know a toffee junkie, check it out. There is even a Toffee-of-the-Month Club. Go. Order on line!
Is there anything so tactile and intangible, so concrete and elusive, so illusory and entirely satisfying or not as a food memory? With all the senses, it will recall time, place, and sentiment like nothing else. I can still smell the vanilla pudding that I was fed as a baby. When I make soft-boiled eggs in the morning, I can see my father standing at the kitchen sink, looking out the window, contentedly scooping out his soft boiled eggs and eating them straight from the shell, having his buttered rye bread (never cut in half, never toasted), and drinking his coffee. Humming. Funny that even soft-boiled eggs can be an homage. That’s why I make them. I get to see my father again.
But it’s a long way. And it’s been a long time. So I head for the kitchen instead. You can always find your way home through the kitchen. From Pam Frier, Laughing With My Mouth Full (2005) p. 12.
It was an odd week, gastronomically and otherwise. Yes, the AC arrived, and yes it made a difference, thanks for asking. There is a big difference throughout the apartment, and enough of a difference in the kitchen that I am able to function almost normally. No, it isn’t cool, but it is bearable. Especially when the oven is turned off!
The Violet Butterscotch Blondie with Caramel Shards
We had company this weekend, and for me, company is just an excuse to get into the kitchen and bake! This time, “company” was a pretext to delve further into The Violet Bakery Cookbook by Claire Ptak. First up, Violet Butterscotch Blondies with Caramel Shards. This is a rich, gooey, sweet and salty wonder. Pssst. The caramel shards make it spectacular.
Caramel that will grow up to be shards!
Then came the Red Velvet Cake from The Violet Bakery Cookbook. This was for our friend from California whom we have not seen for quite some time. I thought the occasion called for something that looked celebratory. The frosting is cream cheese and butter, and pink. The DishnDat tweaks included a tablespoon of espresso powder in the cake, because we can’t eat chocolate without coffee now, can we? Also a few dollops of King Arthur Flour’s Red Velvet Flavor in both the cake and the frosting. Like my MIL before me, I am always suspicious of vegetable oil as a substitute for butter, but this was a light and flavorful cake — chocolatey with just a hint of citrus. The cake is better than the frosting unless you are a sugar overload-lover.
Talk about loving hands at home!
Catching up with our California girl and meeting her boyfriend reminded me of the days when I lived in California. I had a boyfriend. I even had a boyfriend whose parents loved me and always wanted to take us to dinner. They lived in the San Fernando Valley (yes, the “Valley” as in Valley Girl) and the biggest deal around was a fancy steakhouse where I was introduced to Surf ‘n Turf for the first time in my life. I was flabbergasted. I had no idea such riches existed anywhere. No wonder people risked life and limb to come to America! I loved his parents, I loved the way they fed me, but, alas, after a while, I no longer loved the boyfriend and I had to do the right thing. I’ve never had Surf ‘n Turf since. Sigh. Talk about homage.
Mr. Darcy is always delighted when the kitchen produces sweets, so for a recent dinner I tried a recipe for Blueberry BBQ Chicken from Vivian Howard, chef and owner of Chef and the Farmer restaurant in Kinston, North Carolina, and the drawling, laid-back star of PBS’s A Chef’s Life. Instead of firing up our non-existent backyard grill in our non-existent backyard, I just covered a sheet pan with foil, cut up a nice Murray’s chicken, sprayed it with olive oil, and sprinkled a little salt on it. During the cooking time (one hour), I basted it about every 20 minutes with Chef and the Farmer’s Blueberry BBQ sauce, which is essentially a blueberry vinegar. The result is hint of sweetness that plays well with the crispy, salty, sweet chicken.
And I will leave you with Mr. Darcy’s favorite bread of late. It is a simple Monkey Bread. I use the Cook’s Country version, but I can’t reproduce it without their permission. It has been produced elsewhere, however. The DishnDat tweak is to omit the brown sugar coating and the glaze. Dust the pan with a mixture of cinnamon and sugar. It’s perfect for breakfast and whatEVer?
Rye flour brownies from Violet Bakery Cookbook. Just because.
The obvious answer to the title question is, “Don’t cook; that’s why God created Delivery.” But if I don’t even want to go out to eat during a 95° to 105° “heat dome,” much less cook myself, why would I want to make one of those good-natured, hard-working “Mexican” immigrants our Führer manqué is so fond of reviling, bring the food to me? “Well,” would be the response, “because they depend on your tips to make a living. If you don’t order out, they can’t feed their families.” And so on. When is a rationale merely a pretext? Must every little decision involve an ethical dilemma? Well, yes, or so it seems. And so now I have to admit that we have finally broken down and ordered an air conditioner for the kitchen. After all these years of having an air conditioner only in Popeye’s room, we went against our principles and bought yet another. I know, I know. If it weren’t for all the air conditioning units, etc., we wouldn’t even have a heat dome. Sigh. But truthfully, I can’t wait for it to arrive and be installed. There, I’ve said it. It’s official: I am a hypocrite and a bad person.
Mini scones with oatmeal and cranberries and monkey bread. Faster than baking regular bread loaves and they can bake together.
Be that as it may, what can you cook under a heat dome before the AC arrives? I wanted to stay ahead of the heat wave, and so I spent two days cooking up deli containers of mix and match vegetables that can be added to salads, pastas (cooked in the microwave), or served with eggs and toast. Anything that doesn’t require a hot oven. Eggplant is nice and meaty, so I cut it up and mixed it with olive oil and garlic. It stores in the refrigerator to be used as is. I did the same thing with zucchini. I loaded up on cucumbers, scallions and basil to add some brightness to whatever I ended up throwing together, and I didn’t forget the Granny Smiths. They go with everything!
Tuna and a boatload of raw vegetables. Apples, olive oil and apple cider vinegar.
And what doesn’t go with fresh corn? In recent weeks, I’ve learned that you can cook corn on the cob, husk on, in the microwave. Two ears, three minutes, and “viola” — cahn! Jars of tuna, frozen fish sticks, and cans of beans help a lot. Food that was stockpiled on cooler days is a boon. Just don’t do what I did: a mystery container from the freezer turned out to be a four-alarm chili that only Mr. Darcy could eat. Oh, NO, Mr. Bill!
Steamed kale is versatile and healthy.
Sumac red onions: I can’t eat a meal without them anymore! The vinegar and sumac dull that harsh raw red onion burn, making this an incredibly refreshing addition to any dish.
Long-time neighbors invited us for dinner the other night. One of the hallmarks of living in Gotham is that you live next door to the same people for years, and year after year, you nod and smile, you make small talk in the elevator, and you say, “We should get together.” But, you have careers, families, and all the stress and anxiety of keeping your Big City/Big Dreams lives from stalling out, and so you never do. Then, after, say, 30 years or so, when you are all in various stages of hearing loss, you finally get together. You bring a Lime Buttermilk Pound Cake that you’ve adapted from a Lemon Buttermilk Pound Cake recipe (because you have limes but no lemons) from Christopher Kimball’s new venture, Milk Street Kitchen.
Yes, it’s that M.C. Escher cake pan again!
You are treated to an elegant dinner of fish en papillote, beautifully dressed greens, and pasta with uncooked, fresh tomato sauce—not to mention a dessert of fresh fruits, shortcake, ice cream AND whipped cream (be still my heart). You admire their home, you share your political despair, you talk about travel, the other neighbors, and you overstay your welcome. And then you steal their recipes.
It was the glass jar that did it. Our hostess had prepped her tomatoes and held them in a glass jar until she was ready to add them to the pasta. That made me think I should make a lot of it, keep it in a glass jar in the refrigerator, and add it to everything under the sun. And I did.
Fresh Uncooked Tomato Sauce
1 large container cherry or grape heirloom tomatoes
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon minced garlic
1 tablespoon crushed tarragon
That’s it. Mix it all up, keep it in the refrigerator, and use it for anything. Here it is in a pasta with chicken meatballs plus some fresh corn and sumac red onion thrown in. Add the tomatoes and vegetables to the pasta straight from the refrigerator or at room temperature , add a schlug of the pasta water, and lots and lots of freshly grated parmesan. No one will complain. And with the tomatoes and the corn, it tastes like summer. In a good way.
The second time around, I omitted the meatballs, and added chopped up olives. Mwah!
Mushrooms, Eggplant and Scallion All-Purpose Mixture
1 medium graffiti* eggplant, cut into small even pieces of any shape or size
2 boxes any kind of mushrooms, sliced or chopped
6 large scallions (or 1 large leek)
1 tablespoon minced garlic
Juice of one lemon to squeeze over the eggplant to keep it from turning color
Pinch of salt and pepper
*Graffiti eggplant because it’s so pretty and has fewer of those pesky bitter eggplant seeds, and you never have to feel guilty about not taking the time to salt the eggplant.
Cook everything together in olive oil until just wilted. Use for all manner of meals, such as frittata, omelets, or on pasta.
Kale, Mushroom, Eggplant, Scallion and Ricotta Frittata
A retooled and revised version from last week’s post. More cheese. No bread!
7 large eggs
1/2 cup fat-free half and half
1/2 cup grated parmesan cheese
12 small thin slices of parmesan cheese
1/4 cup ricotta cheese
4 cups kale, trimmed, chopped and steamed
1/2 cup of eggplant and mushroom mixture above
Heat oven to 375°;
Spray a muffin tin with Bakers Joy or neutral vegetable oil like canola;
Beat the eggs with the half and half;
Add the cheeses and then the vegetables and mix well;
Fill the cups;
Bake for 15 minutes;
Top each “muffin” with a slice of the parmesan cheese;
Bake another 5 minutes;
Remove from oven and let cool on wire rack for no more than 10 minutes.
Watermelon and Crumbled Feta Cheese — or not
Keep cut up sandía in the refrigerator for snacking and for a refreshing salad with feta cheese.
Did it work? Was it worth two days of sweat just to get us through the heat dome? Well, it got us through the weekend, and there are still three days to go so the jury is still out. Despite my best efforts, there have been some epic fails. Like the eggplant, pureed with olive oil, red onion and garlic that is sitting in the refrigerator, because I just don’t know what to do with it that doesn’t involve chips. Every meal tends to reference the last, but, in the end, I am able to spend more time holed up in Popeye’s room with the air conditioner. Mr. Darcy is happy and, as for me: It’s too hot to eat!
Frittata muffins with cauliflower, leeks, potato, peas, and gochujang paste.
Summer is here with a vengeance. I love summer, more sunlight and less clothing, but I hate heat and humidity. July means heat and humidity. In July, a small kitchen with very little ventilation means SOS!
What’s easy? Well, pizza.
Pizza dough with fresh basil.
But pizza means heating the oven to 450°. Sigh. What about tuna? Well, yes, but can anyone really bear having tuna breath every day? And we know the smell doesn’t go away no matter how many times you floss, brush and rinse with mouthwash.
Last week I mentioned Ellie Krieger, her mini-frittatas baked in a muffin tin, and her very excellent method of cleaning leeks. Her recipe is easy, easy, easy, and quite adaptable to whatever you have around. It’s just eggs, cheese, milk, vegetables, and salt and pepper. Herbs optional, but always a nice touch.
These lovely little frittata are a lifesaver for breakfast, lunch or dinner. Make enough of them ahead of time and just pop them in the microwave when you are ready for a meal. Nuke for 30 seconds at a time up to four times. Check carefully after each nuke so that they don’t dry out.
From Ellie Krieger, asparagus, leek and mushroom mini-frittatas.
Mr. Darcy ate these as fast as I could get them out of the oven, so I decided to change it up a bit, and I tried cauliflower, potato, leek, and peas with some gochujang (Korean red pepper paste) to give the essential blandness of these ingredients a little shtup.
The basic formula is 4 cups cooked vegetables (steamed, roasted or sautéed). If using a water-logged vegetable like zucchini or tomato, it’s best to roast or sautée rather than steam. Add something in the onion/garlic family — onions, garlic, leeks, scallions, salt and pepper, herbs, 1/4 cup grated cheese, 7 eggs and 1/4 cup of milk. Beat the eggs with cheese, herbs, S&P, add the cooked and cooled vegetables. Spoon into a greased muffin tin, and bake about 20 minutes at 350°. Go for it!
Note: Do not allow the baked frittata to sit in the muffin tin for more than 10 minutes to cool before removing them or they will have soggy bottoms. Yes. I learned the hard way.
I admit to doing a little travel day-dreaming lately since the Brexit and the emergence of a strong USD. I would love to go to Bath and take some baking classes with Richard Bertinet, eat at every single Ottolenghi restaurant at least twice, and stop into The Violet Bakery several times a day. (Oh yes, the Tate and the thayatah, but, right now, I just want to eat!) Speaking of day-dreaming, I often pick up Claire Ptak’s lovely little book, The Violet Bakery Cookbook, and picture myself running a lovely little café with lovely little treats and snick-snacks. While thumbing through The Violet BakeryCookbook, I came across Ptak’s recipe for a kale, leek, rosemary, ricotta bread pudding, and wondered if I could convert the bread pudding to mini-frittata. With a few minor adjustments, yes, I could . . . and did!
Kale, leeks, fresh rosemary, ricotta bread pudding from Claire Ptak made into mini-frittata.
Instead of using the bread (as in bread pudding), I placed a small round of garlic toast from the supermarket in the bottom of each muffin cup. Instead of using chile flakes, I used 1/2 tablespoon of gochujang paste. Can you tell that gochujang is one of my latest obsessions? I didn’t strain the custard, but mixed all the ingredients together and used a hand blender for the same effect. Baked them in a 350° oven for 30 to 40 minutes.
We are talking about an egg-based meal, which is very versatile and very forgiving. These little guys pack quite the nutritional punch and have a little of each basic food group except chocolate. You can eat as much or as little as you like.
I like to serve them with tahini sauce, red onion sumac,
or DishnDat homemade tomato fig jam
Tomato fig jam: 4 cups tomatoes, 1 cup fresh figs. Cook on high heat stirring constantly for almost 30 minutes or until it looks jammy. 1/2 cup sugar if you must, but with the figs, you don’t really need it! Without figs, 1/2 to 1 cup sugar.
We interrupt whatever you are doing to bring you this dispatch from the Department of Who Knew? I just learned that Saveur Magazine gives annual awards for best food blogs. I also just learned that DishnDat has been nominated for Best Blog 2016 in at least two categories: Weeknight Dinners and Humor. So PLEEZ PLEEZ PLEEEZ vote for DishnDat at http://www.saveur.com/blog-awards-2016-nominate. But please hurry, because you have only until July 18 before the polls close.
Be sure to use the entire URL: http://dishndat.me.
In the meantime, here is a photo of a recipe I made from my latest obsession, Israel Eats by Steven Rothfeld. Eggplant, olive oil, tahini, lemon juice, pomegranate molasses, mint leaves. *Sigh*
And thank you so much for reading DishnDat and for your vote!