Toast-less Avocado Toast: The Paleo Version

Food fads both fascinate and frustrate me. Being one who loves to learn anything new in the kitchen—whether it be a new taste for something or a new technique—I'm open to most (most, mind you) anything.

And so when I hear that such-and-such is so flipping good, and I see blog posts and magazine articles singing its praises, and menu after menu offering said food, I usually will give it a try. See my post on grain bowls as an example...

What frustrates me, on the other hand, is when something in the food world just gets OVERDONE. Like, there is nothing else. I see this with ingredients, flavors, techniques.

Take the word "umami," for instance. The word "umami" was first used by Kikunae Ikeda in 1908. 1908!!! But it is used now as if it is the newest and most insanely incredible taste that has ever been discovered. If I hear or read the word "umami" one more time, I'm going to take my bottle of coconut aminos and throw it out the window! (Although I do encourage you to read the "Umami" Wikipedia article for a rather fascinating explanation of its meaning.)

So when I keep reading articles about entire restaurants being dedicated to this whole avocado toast craze??? I admit, I've been rolling my eyes. Really? All you serve is toast with avocado schmeared on top and sprinkled with random crap? I mean, come on.

And then, one day last week I had nothing to eat in the kitchen except a perfectly ripe avocado...

So, this is what happened:

Avocado. Fresh squirt of lime juice. Sprinkle of toasted hazelnuts. Drizzle of olive oil. Salt. Pepper.

My brain's response after my first dreamy, creamy bite from my spoon: DEAR GOD, THANK YOU FOR THIS FOOD.

What was I eating? I was eating a toast-less version of avocado toast, and it was divine. 

A Grain Bowl Recipe for Skeptics

If you have paid attention to anything food-related this past year, you will know that one of the most popular, healthy, hippie-ish dishes to hit the scene is

The Grain Bowl.

No, it's not your grandmother's bowl of oatmeal, Cream of Wheat or farina. It is a savory dish: a concoction of fiber-full, vitamin-packed ingredients that seem to have absolutely nothing to do with each other that are all piled on top of a base layer of cooked grain—in a bowl.

I don't know about you, but to me that sounds like either an incredibly boring meal or an incredibly healthy-to-the-point-I-don't-want-to-eat-it meal. Was I born in the '70s? Yes. Did my neighbor grow pot in his backyard and eat—right in front of our boggling eyes—the slippery, slimy seaweed that we brought home from the beach? Yes. Did we eat his wife's beans and rice and love it? Yes.

But a grain bowl???

Sigh. It just seems like it's trying too TOO hard to be part of the club, you know?

But the fuss! The number of restaurants popping up and serving these damn things! I mean, seriously.

That means...yup. You loyal readers know me. I decided I needed to give it a try. (I still do have a good three pounds of Italy to come off. And it's already FEBRUARY!!! My male readers will have no idea why I just said that about February. Ladies, you know what I'm saying...)

SO. I decided to start simple. And who did I go to as my guide? My ever-faithful, besties-in-the-kitchen, Bon Appetit mag. (I'm telling you, folks. If you want to learn to cook, subscribe to this magazine. If I could figure out how to get their ad on this blog, that would be the ONE ad I would actually add so you could just click and subscribe. The folks who write it are fun. They are real. They aren't afraid to admit they are still learning in the kitchen, too. They are like US! Woohoo! So, until I can figure out how to get their ad on my blog, here's the link to GO SUBSCRIBE TO BON APPETIT MAGAZINE!)

The picture they put in the magazine that totally tempted me and made me give in can be found on Bon Appetit's website here. I used page 52 of my oh-so-special, January subscriber-only issue of Bon Appetit to guide me and gathered up my bowl ingredients:

• pearled barley (it's what I had leftover from beef and barley soup)
• bunch of curly kale (one with smaller, more tender stalks)
• 2 small sweet potatoes
• half a brick of halloumi cheese (a Greek melting cheese that has a really nice salty flavor)
• slivered almonds
• sunflower seeds
• coriander seeds
• and mint leaves.

I put the barley on to boil in salted water for 45 minutes, then got to prepping the rest of the ingredients so they were ready to layer on after the barley was cooked, drained and cooled.

1. The sweet potatoes were scrubbed, dried, cut into 1-inch cubes, tossed with olive oil, salt, pepper and a little paprika (I like hot but regular, ol' sweet is good) and roasted for 30 minutes at 400° F in my toaster oven.
2. The curly kale leaves were cut from the stems (toss the stems), sliced crosswise then lengthwise, rinsed, dried and dumped in a bowl. I sprinkled them with a bit of salt and cider vinegar, then massaged them gently for about 30 seconds to start breaking down their tough fibers. The vinegar would do the rest while I moved on to my next ingredient.
3. The slivered almonds, sunflower seeds and coriander seeds were tossed on medium heat in a tiny bit of olive oil until they were golden brown and the coriander seeds started popping (about 1 minute), then drained on a paper towel and sprinkled with salt and pepper.
4. The mint leaves were rinsed, dried, and torn from their stems (stems tossed).
5. Now it was time for the dressing: In a small jar, I shook together 6 oz. olive oil, the juice of 1 lemon, 1 tsp. Dijon mustard, 1/2 tsp. honey, salt and pepper. This was more than enough dressing, but extra can be used on salad later.
6. At this point the barley was ready: it had a nice chew to it. It was drained then scattered on a towel-lined baking sheet to dry (I have an abundance of flour sack towels which I use for purposes such as this, not just for drying my hands. I go through a dozen in about three days. Just don't wash them with fabric softener!).
7. While the barley cooled, I fried the halloumi: I heated up a little bit of olive oil in a small cast-iron skillet (enough to just coat the bottom of the pan), browned both sides of the cheese, then sliced it.

Assembling all the parts into a bowl took all of one minute: the barley lined the bottom of a pasta bowl and was topped with a pile of kale greens, a scattering of roasted sweet potatoes, a few slices of fried cheese and a sprinkling of toasted seeds and mint leaves. It all was drizzled with the lemon-Dijon dressing, and voila!

My own, personalized grain bowl!

I think I had had a bit of wine at this point or I was really excited about my creation because I didn't realize until the next morning that I had gotten REALLY close on this pic. But, oh well. Because after I took my first bite of my first grain bowl EVER, I wanted to get that close and stay that close.

Does that mean it was delicious?

Yes.

A party in my mouth?

Yes!

A marching band of foods that combined into a perfect explosion of flavor and texture symmetry?

YES!!!

I think you know what I'm going to say to the "Will I make this again?" question. And you know what the beauty of this meal is? The parts can all be made or prepped ahead and simply reheated or quickly cooked as needed. A weeknight dinner that will make you happy in, OH! So many ways!

So, hippies! Rejoice! You converted a total skeptic, and I will declare it loudly to the world:

I LOVE GRAIN BOWLS!!!

But Dwight, wherever you are: the raw seaweed?

Hell, NO.

Ready to give the grain bowl a try? Leave a comment and let us know what you did! Go crazy! Use what you have and what you like! You'll give us some more ideas of things to try! 

Yotam Ottolenghi's Cauliflower Steaks: A Vegetarian Dinner for Meat Lovers

Summer is coming fast. Maybe a bit too fast. My backside is, like, seriously not ready for it. So last night I made steak for dinner.

You heard me. STEAK. But not steak from a cow or a bison or even a pig.

I made steak from a cauliflower.

Ewww, I just heard you say.

Yeah—NO.

My go-to "I-want-to-be-vegetarian-tonight" recipe writer, Yotam Ottolenghi, has a definite place in my kitchen. When I get tired of simply sautéing my veggies, I jazz them up Ottolenghi-style. His wide use of Middle Eastern spices and flavorings add a depth to vegetable dishes you just don't see elsewhere in the veggie world.

Like these cauliflower steaks shared in Bon Appétit (April 2017), for example. Ottolenghi transforms a vegetable that many only tolerate, cutting it into thick slices then alternately pan-frying and oven-roasting it into a deep, dark caramelized hunk of beefy deliciousness. Who would think?

Laid on a simple bed of puréed cauliflower laced with lemon and tahini, it is then topped with a "salsa" made from more lemon zest, parsley, olive oil and nuts.

If you want to make this a vegan dinner, simply swap out the tiny bit of butter in the recipe for more olive oil. I think the butter contributes to the beefy taste, but it will still be frickin' fantastic to be sure. 

I did make a few adjustments because I didn't have what I thought I had... Ottolenghi suggests using walnuts and a Fresno chile for the salsa. I didn't have either, so I used pine nuts instead and skipped the chile but brushed my cauliflower slices with harissa paste (both very Middle Eastern in origin). Remarkably good, oddly satisfying, and SO being made again the exact same way.

[I can still hear some of you saying "Ewww." Just—shut up and go try it. You and your butt will be thanking me and Ottolenghi. Promise.]

Want some more suggestions of what to try from Ottolenghi? Check out his veggies-only cookbook, Plenty: Vibrant Vegetable Recipes, or his team-up with his buddy, Sami Tamimi, in Jerusalem: A Cookbook. I think you and your behind will be going vegetarian more often, too.

When a Potato Isn't a Potato: The Best Mashed "Fauxtatoes" Recipe for a Paleo (or Diabetic) Thanksgiving

Many of you out there have heard of the Paleo diet, a way of eating that eliminates foods that are "new" in the agricultural evolutionary scheme of things which supposedly freak out our bodies and make a lot of weird, unhealthy crap-ola happen: potentially things like lupus, Crohn's, rheumatoid arthritis, cancer... It's been getting a lot of research, and while both sides vehemently argue its validity, I have to personally say that I have felt much, MUCH better by drastically cutting back on two of the big "no-nos" of the Paleo menu: grains of any sort and dried legumes (that includes peanuts).

Also included on some Paleo-ers "do-not-eat" list are white potatoes. I believe the argument is that the glycemic index of a white potato is quite high. With that being said, I still eat white potatoes; I just eat them a LOT less often. What I do instead is what a lot of Paleo-ers (and a lot of diabetics!) do: I make "fauxtatoes."

What the hell, you ask? 

I know. It's hokey. But here's what it is: it's cauliflower, generally steamed and then puréed to a smooth consistency to resemble mashed potatoes. 

I've been making it for several years now, and I like it. I do. But I've always been a bit annoyed with one thing (which if you've tried it, you probably know what I'm about to say): the "fauxtatoes" always come out looking a bit watery and loose. They don't have that oomph that mashed potatoes do. And I WANT that oomph. I like when they plop onto my plate, not ooze.

SO. Last night I was making fauxtatoes to accompany some chicken scallopini and sautéed Swiss chard when it suddenly hit me: why don't I try drying out my cauliflower before I purée it???

DUH.

So, here's what I did: I placed my cauliflower florets (a medium-sized head, cored and cut into large florets) plus two peeled garlic cloves into a steamer basket, sprinkled them with a bit of kosher salt, and steamed them for about 15 minutes (or until I could easily slide a fork into the center of the largest piece).

I then spread out the florets on a baking sheet, making sure to have room around each piece so that they weren't steaming each other. I sprinkled them again with a little bit of kosher salt.

I roasted the florets in a 350° oven for 30 minutes without tossing them until they were golden on the tops and nicely browned on the bottoms.

Then I scooped the florets and the garlic cloves into my food processor, dropped in half a stick of butter (true Paleo-ers would not use any dairy), ground in some freshly ground black pepper, and puréed for about a minute. I scraped down the sides and puréed for another minute. I kept repeating this until the mixture was almost completely smooth. I then added a tablespoon-ish splash of cream and puréed until the fauxtatoes were perfectly smooth.

Here's a glamour shot with lots of Irish butter:

When we sat down to dinner, I asked Chef Reiton if he noticed anything different. The first thing out of his mouth: "The consistency! These are like potatoes!"

YAHOOOOO! My experiment worked! But we still brainstormed things we will try next time. What if I didn't roast the florets so long? The browning definitely affected the color of the fauxtatoes, not to mention the taste. While the taste was good, we were interested in seeing what it would be like to roast them just long enough to drive off that excess water, maybe when the tops were just beginning to become brown in spots.

We also thought about eliminating the garlic. Or maybe adding a bit of sour cream instead of cream? How about some herbs? So many things to try! All will taste good, I know, but it will be fun to experiment.

SO. If you've got some diabetics coming to Thanksgiving dinner, or some Paleo eaters, give these fauxtatoes a try. They may just be the best non-potato potato you've been dreaming of! Print the recipe below, and, please, feel free to share what you think in the comments!

Happy Thanksgiving, all!

The Beet Salad Recipe of Your Dreams

I don't know about you, but when dealing with vegetables, rarely does the word 'gorgeous' come to mind. Vegetables tend to look a bit—well, not the most attractive. Stand in the produce section, and take a look around. Fruit definitely wins out in the looks category. Veggies tend to remind you of gawky, bad-skinned, knob-kneed teenagers with consistently bad hair-days.

That is, until you look inside.

Suddenly, some veggies become positively striking. Like the beet I couldn't help but share in my old post Talk About Random.  Take a look at that beauty!

Maybe their gorgeousness is part of the reason why I've become addicted, but beets have suddenly turned into my go-to veggie for an easy lunch salad. Chef Reiton hates beets, no matter how hard he tries to like them, so my only way of eating them is when he isn't here. Lunchtime has become perfect for that.

"So—a beet salad???" you say (I can see that lip tweaking...).

Believe me, yes, and it's delish and incredibly easy. That is, after you roast the beets. Which is also easy. I'll even show you how tomorrow because I'm going to roast some tonight (please note: TONIGHT is key in my easy roasting and peeling method).

Alright, so back to the salad. In Real Simple's November 2015 issue there was an article on easy side dishes to create for the holidays. Modestly introducing their beet salad recipe was a small notation that their beet salad is so good, the RS crew make it all the time for their gatherings.  Intrigued, I made it for our Christmas dinner, and the entire family gave a resounding 'YES!' to it's deliciousness—despite it being made with beets.

Since then I have tweaked the recipe to fit with ingredients that I tend to have at home and that I can quickly toss together for lunch. Almost all of the ingredient amounts are to what I'm in the mood for that day. So, here you go: a beet salad that is remarkably good for you, gorgeous, and incredibly delicious.

Ingredients:

• 1 roasted beet, cooled, skinned and cut into wedges
• a small (1-in. x 1 in.-ish) hunk of ricotta salata, a firm ricotta cheese, sold in wedges in the "nice cheese" section
• a small pinch of the tops of some fresh Italian, flat-leaf parsley sprigs, roughly chopped 
• chopped pecans, toasted (toss in a small skillet over medium heat until they smell nutty)
• kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
• olive oil
• red wine vinegar

Directions:

1. Place beet wedges on a plate or in a bowl.
2. Crumble ricotta salata over the beet wedges.
3. Sprinkle with chopped parsley.
4. Sprinkle with chopped, toasted pecans.
5. Drizzle with olive oil and red wine vinegar.
6. Sprinkle with salt and pepper.
7. EAT!

If you want to print the recipe, click "Print this recipe" below for a download and/or a print option.

Come back tomorrow for a quick how-to video on roasting and peeling beets–something I used to hate doing because the damn peel never came off easily. No more! I'll show you how.

Until then, here's to those of us who may be knob-kneed with lots of bad hair-days but strive to be beautiful on the inside! Yeah, beets!

The Cooking and Eating of Vegetables: The Simple Truth

When I was growing up, my mother was a huge proponent of "Eat your veggies."  Like, HUGE.  Not in a disturbing "Here's a cupcake (i.e. bran muffin)!" kind of way but an I-will-serve-salad-with-dinner- EVERY-night-alongside-another-vegetable-on-the-plate kind of way.  I cannot remember sitting down for dinner once without there being vegetables in a variety of forms on the table.

By the time I had entered this world, frozen vegetables had kicked canned veggies out of the kitchen for good (thank GOD), so, yes, my veggies tended to be "zapped" in that monstrous new-fangled machine that took up almost the entire counter in our kitchen called a "microwave."  But no matter—we were getting our veggies.  My mother even figured out how to microwave frozen vegetables to be "California-style."

Needless to say, because of my childhood home dining experiences, as an adult, eating dinner without two vegetables on my plate seems like half-assed meal planning and flat-out vaguely scary.  Like, "Now I may not be able to poop tomorrow" scary.  And "Maybe I should go take that multi-vitamin..." So I buy and cook a lot of veggies.  A LOT.  To the point I get comments at the checkout in the grocery store. The other day the teenage bagger was trying to guess what I was going to use each vegetable for. Then he picked up this one (pardon the stock photo): 

https://pixabay.com/static/uploads/photo/2016/01/11/10/04/fennel-1133309_960_720.jpg

This is the vegetable that always gets a lot of questions, the most common one being, "What IS this?"

This delightful root vegetable can be found under two different names in the produce section: fennel or anise.  It can be eaten raw or cooked, and it has become one of my all-time favorite veggies.  It's seeds are what give Italian sausage that distinctive peppery, pungent, almost licorice-y flavor and are what most people think of when you say "fennel."

I use the seeds in my pasta sauce and in my meatballs, but I have mostly learned that I love the fennel bulb the most.  I love it straight up, unadulterated, sliced and then roasted.

You heard me, people.  ROASTED.  The prime way, and easiest way, may I add, to cook vegetables.  Roast them in your oven or toaster oven, or even pan-roast them in a skillet.   I don't care which way.  But roasting vegetables does two things that I just absolutely love: 1) it changes the flavor of the vegetable completely because it essentially is slowly caramelizing all the sugar in the veggie.  The flavors become deeper, more mellow.  And 2) because your veggie is slowly being cooked in a single layer by hot air or a hot surface, you have more control of how cooked it gets.  You can fork several pieces every 10 minutes or so and see how "done" they are.  Some veggies I like with a bit of bite left, like zucchini or carrots or cauliflower.  Others I like until they are just soft enough to bit straight through, like potatoes or the hard squashes or this fennel, here.  There is just not a simpler, more delicious way to cook vegetables.  Not to mention the prep time is, like, two minutes. Look how gorgeous...:

 On the far, far opposite side of my Favorite Ways to Cook Vegetables spectrum is cooking vegetables in water.  In any kind of water. If you come across a recipe that tells you to boil a vegetable, RUN—hard and fast.  Boiling is a technique that leaches the vitamins out of your veggies so fast and reduces their deliciousness to a murky-tasting pile of mush.

Don't even let the French talk you into it.  They may call it something fancy: braising.  It sounds nice, doesn't it? So nice that I tried it the other night.  Julia talked me into it.  So I took these gorgeous leeks:

and put them in a pot of water.  I stupidly thought the butter would make a difference...  She told me to simmer them for some God-awful amount of time, which I convinced myself was because they were leeks and that somehow would make them better.

And then when MOST of the water had simmered off, I put it all (including the water that was left) into a roasting pan and roasted them for another quarter of an hour.  Here's what ended up on my plate:

I know.  I know.  I mean, LOOK AT THEM.  They scream "overcooked," "mushy," "slimy," and "I-won't-need-teeth-to-eat-this" right from the plate! But, being the experimenter that I am, I tried them, anyway, with a very timid bite...

I almost titled this post, "Mastering the Gag of French Cooking," but I decided to come at it from a more positive angle.  And to not offend the devoutest of Julia Child's fans.  

So.  Learn from me.  Roast your veggies.  Roast them.  It's the easiest.  The yummiest.  The best.

Here's how:

Ingredients: 

• your veggie or veggies of choice, cut up however you want; just try to make the pieces all the same size
•  (NOTE: if using multiple types of veggies, roast similar "hardnesses" together so that they can be done in the same amount of cooking time OR add veggies that are softer/will cook faster to the pan a bit later after the longer-cooking ones)
• olive oil or your favorite type of oil (I like the flavor of olive oil best)
• kosher salt
• fresh ground black pepper

Equipment needed:

• a medium bowl
• a sheet pan or a casserole dish or skillet to lay your veggies out in a single layer 
• (NOTE: the more wiggle room the veggies have where they aren't doing a whole lot of touching, the better the browning will be.  Too much contact makes them steam more than brown). 
• aluminum foil or parchment paper to line the pan (easier clean up; skip if you don't have any)
• a flat metal or plastic flipping spatula

Directions: 

• Preheat your oven to 425°.  If using a toaster oven, do 375° to 400°, depending if it is tiny or big.  If you are using a skillet on the stove top, heat it over medium heat.
• Line your pan with foil or parchment for easy clean up.  If using a skillet, just leave it alone.
• Place your veggies in the bowl.
• Drizzle the veggies with olive oil.  Toss the veggies with the oil really well with your hands.  If the veggies don't all look coated, drizzle with more oil and keep tossing.  You want the veggies coated well but not swimming in oil.  
• Sprinkle the veggies with salt and pepper and give them one last good toss to coat.
• Dump the veggies in the pan and spread them out in a single layer. If you are using a skillet, use a spoon or spatula to spread them out; you don't want to burn your fingertips on the hot skillet...
• Place the pan in the hot oven and roast for 10 minutes.  Take the pan out of the oven, toss the veggies to recoat and flip, then put them back in the oven for another 10 minutes.  If you are using a skillet, toss them a bit more frequently.  You want browning, but the smaller surface area can make them cook faster.
• After the second 10 minutes, you are going to be making a judgement call on how well done you want your veggies.  Spear a couple pieces with a fork to test how crunchy they are. When they feel good to you, remove them from the oven and dump them in a serving dish.  Garnish however you want.
• Eat with abandon.

Bonus Tip!  If I feel like jazzing my veggies up a bit, I'll toss them with a little something extra when I add the salt and pepper.  Something like:

• lemon zest from the peel of one lemon
• a few smashed garlic cloves (don't even peel them!)
• a couple shallots quartered lengthwise right through the root
• a sprinkle of a favorite spice or spice blend
• a few good shakes of my Regan's orange bitters

Get creative! I bet you it will taste delish.  And if it doesn't? Well, you don't know until you try, right?

So go get roasting! Comment below and share what you've tried! And if you have any questions, please ask below.  I am happy to help!

Put Some Blueberries On It!: Learning to Make Green Salads with Fruit

I have always been a fan of blueberries, ever since I was a kid.  Even after I threw up blueberry pancakes in the back of our Volkswagon Beetle when I was four years old, my love for those little suckers didn't fade.  When we moved to Pennsylvania and settled into a home right smack in some woods full of blueberry bushes, I thought I had died and gone to heaven.  It might have taken an hour to fill a measly cup with those tiny berries, but I didn't care.  I had blueberries in my backyard.

As an adult, they are still my go-to berry. I use the dried wild ones in my scones. Frozen blueberries  get tossed into my random smoothie.  And I buy a package every week to top off my plain Greek yogurt.

But you want to know what I've gotten really into lately?

You got it! Salads. SO yummy.  Their little bursts of sweet, and sometimes tart, flavor add such wonderful contrast to the pungent flavors of shallots or red onion and a sprinkle of gorgonzola or feta cheese.  And the juice they release blends wonderfully with a simple olive oil and vinegar dressing.  Simply drizzle your salad with olive oil first and toss the greens to coat them, then sprinkle on a bit of good balsamic vinegar, a pinch of kosher salt, and a few grinds of fresh cracked black pepper.  Toss again, and you've got an absolutely delicious salad that is super healthy, thanks to blueberry's super antioxidant powers.  

Give it a shot and let me know what you think! Have another weird salad topping of choice? Send us a comment and let us all know!

Defrosting Your Fridge: Ideas for What to Do with That Food!

Happy belated New Year, all! I can't believe we are well into 2016 already. Where does the time go?

I haven't written a word to you all for over a month! It appears that the holidays were busy and then some! It feels good to be back.  In between all the traveling and company, I've been slowly hashing out my New Year's resolution to create a daily routine (as routine as a pilot's wife can get). Getting back to you all will be part of my writing goal (but I've got some other projects in the works, so I'm going to need you to share).

One of my other New Year's goals is to get better at experimenting in the kitchen.  There are so many foods that I buy at the store that I can make at home (yogurt, ricotta, kombucha, etc.  Notice the fermentation theme, here).  I've just been lazy and haven't taken the time to read up on it and to try it. 

Well, Fate decided to lend a hand and throw us a broken fridge to help me get that ball rolling...

A few weeks ago, Chef Reiton and I noticed that we were getting random pools of water appearing from beneath our fridge.  After a bit of inspection and research, we learned that the little hose in the back of the fridge that allows the defrost water to drain can get clogged, causing the water to leak out onto the floor and into the bottom of the freezer drawer (we wondered where that huge sheet of ice was coming from...). Thanks to Google and those who share their knowledge on home refrigerator repair, we discovered how to solve the problem ourselves instead of having to call our friendly but expensive Whirlpool repairman.  

The down side? We had to defrost the fridge.  

Crap. 

Thankfully, 1) the winter storm that hit Boston on Friday was bigger than was expected, so the 7 inches of snow piled on our back deck could serve nicely as a natural cooler.  2) We tend to shop twice a week for food, so we didn't shop for the second half; the dinners just became compilations of random scavenged foods as we tried to use up what was in the fridge and freezer, just in case repairs didn't go as quickly or smoothly as we wanted.

Well, despite our interesting meal combos, we were still left with:

• a bunch of cheese (we have a good-cheese fetish, admittedly)
• lots of pickled items in jars
• butter
• half-n-half
• a frozen leg of lamb
• a few random vegetables
• some chicken wings and a carcass

The cheese, jars, and lamb leg got stuck out in the snow in a plastic storage tub.  But those veggies and the chicken?

Well, my New Year's resolution of experimenting started halloo-ing from the back of my brain, and so I pulled out a wonderful little book, The Essential Book of Fermentation by Jeff Cox, given to me for my birthday by our dear friends, Joe (now my boss—I'm officially a copy editor!) and Marie.  

What was I going to ferment? That gorgeous purple cabbage that had been sitting all lonely and forlorn in my fridge, that's what.  In five minutes flat, that baby was slivered into shreds and sprinkled with sea salt and caraway seeds:

All I had to do was completely man-handle that pile of shreds for 10 minutes, scrunching and crushing and squeezing and mixing, until I got it to be a juicy, purple, tender mess:

I covered the surface with some plastic wrap, put a plate facedown on top so that all the cabbage was covered up, then I pressed the plate down hard, pushing all the shreds down underneath their own purple juices.  Now the cabbage was ready to ferment, slowly developing into that amazingly health food: sauerkraut.  If you've never had it homemade, you are missing out.  It is entirely different from the sweet, vinegary kind you get at the store.  And homemade fermented sauerkraut contains bacteria GALORE that will make your gut incredibly happy.  Like, really insanely happy.  In fact, a lot of nutritionists say that eating sauerkraut every day does wonders for your body.  Some food for thought...

As for the other vegetables and chicken parts that sat on the counter—you regular readers guessed it...

CHICKEN STOCK.

Chicken wings and a carcass and a bit of leftover roasted chicken got dumped in the Crock-Pot and covered with a quartered onion, old celery, leftover herbs, a hunk of carrot, sliced up shrivel-y ginger root and turmeric root, a wrinkled serrano chile pepper, and the frozen scraps left from making spiralized zucchini noodles.  I filled the pot with water, put it on high until it all came to a boil, then turned it down to low.  That was yesterday afternoon, and she's still going strong.  I topped it off with a bit more water this morning, and I'll probably let it go until tomorrow afternoon.  The more nutrients I can suck out of those bones, the better. And if you could just smell my house right now... Man.

I'm happy to say that the fridge fixing went ridiculously smoothly.  It took me longer to take advantage of the empty fridge and give it a good scrub down than it did for the repair.  Here she stands, all clean and shiny, ready and waiting for that homemade sauerkraut and chicken stock.

The only question is, what do I experiment on making next???

Clarified Butter: The Truth of Ghee Matter

I know I've blogged about ghee before in Thank Ghee for Reading, but I just finished making another batch this very minute, and I thought I'd post again to encourage some ghee making out there.

Ghee is a cooking fat made from heating unsalted butter reeeeeeeeeeeeally slowly and NOT TOUCHING IT.  While the butter is melting, the butterfat (the clear stuff) separates from the milk solids (the stuff that looks like tiny cheese curds).  If you stop the process after the milk solids separate from the fat, the leftover yellow oil is clarified butter.  It's the stuff that you seafood lovers love to dunk your lobster and crab into.

If you keep the process going, however, the water in the butter will begin to evaporate off (you will hear and see it simmering off, sputtering and popping away), and the milk solids will begin to brown and settle to the bottom of the pot, leaving a clear brownish oil that is ghee.  This cooking fat is  highly heat tolerant as well as rich in flavor, but it also wonderfully rid of the things that make some of our bellies not feel so great (the milk stuff such as casein and lactose).

To strain the ghee from the solids, simply pour the liquid in the pot through a cheesecloth-lined sieve into a bowl, then let the oil cool. Voila! You've got your ghee!

The quantity of ghee you get will depend on the quality of the butter you use.  European butters with a higher butterfat content will yield more ghee than the cheaper butters that contain a bit more water. They are more expensive, but they are worth it—not just for the amount of ghee produced but also for the flavor.  This is an area where cheap ass me doesn't skimp.

Once your ghee has cooled, you can store it in a jar on the counter or in the fridge.  It will become harder in the fridge, but it will last longer (about 12 months vs. 6 months on the counter).  If you are like me, it doesn't last 6 weeks much less 6 months, but you do what works for you.

For more info about ghee, check out What's Cooking, America's page all about it.

And give a shout if you make a batch! I'd love to hear your thoughts and how you are using it!

How to Compose Yourself (and Your Salad)!: A Composed Salad Recipe with Baby Arugula, Red Pear and Shallot

I used to laugh at that term—a composed salad—when I was a kid.  Personification would kick in, and all I could think of was a salad sitting up straight and tall, eyes downcast, hands in her lap, waiting with great grace for her turn to be eaten.

Salads are not my favorite thing to make.  I like to eat them, but I struggle with being too impatient to put one together at the end of meal prep; I just want to eat.

Thank God for those little boxes of organic lettuces and leaves.  I know they are more expensive, but 1) they are organic, 2) I don't have to rinse any damn leaves, and 3) I don't have to chop any damn leaves.  The only thing I'm left to do is cut up some tomato and cucumber, and I can call it a day.

And the-e-e-e-en there's my husband.  Salad creation is his specialty.  He reminds me of Jonathan in the old '80s movie, Splash, who gets fired for being too artistic with his pizza-making.  That's Chef Reiton.  His salads are gorgeous.  And he looks so relaxed making them.  I bang away at the cutting board to hurry up and get it done, and he stands and meditavely slices and minces and slivers and chops.  It makes me jealous.

So the other night I determined: I was going to make a killer salad.  Not the tossed green salads I always make.  No.  I was going to make a composed salad.  A little work of art on a salad plate.

I took three ingredients:

• a red pear with the flower blossom end sliced off and discarded
• baby arugula
• a small shallot, peeled, with the root end trimmed

With my mandoline on the thinnest setting, I sliced the red pear crosswise into circles until I started to hit the seeds (about half the pear).  Next I sliced the shallot into circles.

Now came the composing: 

1. I lay the pear slices in a ring on the salad plate, overlapping the edges a bit.
2. I placed a nice little mound of baby arugula in the center of the ring.
3. I sprinkled the little shaved rings of shallot on top of the arugula mound. 

That was it.  To dress it I sprinkled it with a little bit of olive oil, a little bit of balsamic vinegar, a few grinds of fresh black pepper, and a teensy bit of kosher salt.

The result? GOR-GEOUS!!!!

And it took, like, 2 minutes to make! AND it was delicious! 

I think I may have found my new favorite thing to create! Folks, get ready for some serious salad composure! 

The Delicate Delicata Squash: Learning to Prepare It in 3-2-1!

Do you remember the days when you went grocery shopping and your fresh veggie options were beets, broccoli, cauliflower, carrots, and zucchini?

Now not only do we find brussels sprouts on the stalk, kohlrabi, and kale in stores, but we have farmers markets popping up in every town, big and small, on the map, providing us with a huge variety of some rather random vegetables, some of which I've never heard of.

One of those random varieties that I have read about in my food magazines for awhile now but have never been able to find in any of my stores is the delicata squash...and lo, and behold! What does Inge give me as we were leaving her home/our short term boarding house but some delicata squash! Imagine!

So, the other night I followed her directions on how to cook it:

1) Take a fork and stab the squash, Psycho-style, repeatedly, all over:

2) Put the whole squash on a plate in the microwave and microwave for 5-6 minutes:

3) Let the squash rest and cool for a couple minutes, then slice it in half lengthwise, scoop out the seeds with a spoon, slather on the butter, salt and pepper, and enjoy!

I have to say, I was pleasantly surprised.  Winter squashes tend to scare me a little.  They usually are so much work and require whacking with cleavers/mallets/other implements of squash destruction... It makes me nervous.

But this guy? Easy peasy to prepare! And the flavor? Wonderfully mild.  Slightly sweet and with the texture of a very fine spaghetti squash.  You could eat it with a spoon.  You can even eat the skin, unlike other hard squashes.  How's that for a winter squash that breaks all the rules?

All good reasons to call it the delicat(e)-a...  Give it a try! And let me know if you come up with any creative ways to use it...

Fungi Flashbacks: Uncle Fred's Sautéed Mushrooms

My schnozz did it to me again this morning.

I was frying up some baby bellas and yellow onion in butter for a couple of omelettes.

I got a little distracted by the bacon sticking to the cast iron skillet and mometarily forgot about the 'shrooms, when suddenly—

I am standing in Uncle Fred's kitchen.  I am six or seven years old, and my cousins and sisters and I have just run numerous laps around the house in a game of tag.  Uncle Fred, dressed in an apron with a spatula in hand, is hovering over the kitchen stove.  On the counter beside him is a stack of Dixie cups, and in his skillet are sliced mushrooms, sautéing slowly in melted butter.  The kitchen is warm and smells of sweet earth and salt.  When the mushrooms are a glorious golden brown, he scoops a spoonful into a Dixie cup and hands it to the next child in line: a kid-friendly finger food for his kids on the go.

Ahhhhh.  My nose.  My dear U.F.  My memories.

Thank you, dear God, for all three.

What to Do with All Those Cucumbers?: A Quick and Easy Cucumber Salad Recipe

They kill me, cucumber plants.  

Every day I go out and inspect my garden to see what the new day brings.  I love the suspense and surprise of finding what 24 hours of sun can do to a plant.  Inches seem to be added to a lettuce tower.  That cherry tomato is finally the right shade of red.  The basil has sprouted some new flowers.

But none of those babies can beat the cucumber plant.  I swear to God, fruit just magically appears on those suckers.  Every morning I go out and turn over every leaf, looking for some pickings and finding just babies, and the next morning I lift a leaf, and I'm like, "WHOA!!! Nice cucumber!" Full grown, fat deliciousness just hanging and waiting for me...

I love suspense, so I'm cool with these games.  I'm also cool with what I've been doing to them at dinner time:

The quantities below made enough for me eating solo; double or triple as needed.  And remember, this is a salad, so you can adjust quantities of ingredients to taste however you like.  As David Rocco says, "QB!"

Tools Needed: 1 small bowl, a fork, a juicer of some sort

Ingredients:

• 1 small cucumber (about 6" long), halved lengthwise and sliced thickly
• 1/2 a small shallot, very thinly sliced
• juice of 1/2 a small lemon (you can go lighter but don't go over; it's too much)
• 2-3 large basil leaves, rolled up then thinly sliced
• kosher salt to taste
• freshly ground black pepper
• a tiny dash of cayenne peper
• a few shaved slices of jalapeno (optional)

Steps to Make: 

1.  Squeeze the lemon juice into a small bowl.

2.  Add the cucumber slices and the kosher salt.  Toss well.

3.  Add the rest of the ingredients to the bowl and toss well.  Let the flavors meld in the fridge while you make the rest of dinner, tossing the salad once in awhile until ready to serve.

And that's it.  A summer salad that is light, zingy, and clean.  Perfect match for a burger, some ribs, or a grilled chicken.

Spatchcocking, anyone?

Grilling Cauliflower: A Match Made in Heaven

I admit it.

I know it's kind-of weird, and maybe a little "off-color," so to speak, but--

I LOVE cauliflower.

I love it steamed.

I love it steamed then mashed.

I love it steamed and obliterated in a food processor with salt and pepper and shit-tons of butter.

I love it roasted.

I love it roasted with lemon zest.

I love it roasted with lemon zest and garlic cloves.

Any way you want to serve it to me, I'll happily accept.

But you know what I tried the other night and went ga-ga over?

Grilled cauliflower.

Heavens to Betsy, you must try! Rinse that head, then cut off golfball-sized hunks of crown with a little bit of stem and throw those pieces into a medium bowl.  Pour in a good couple tablespoons of olive oil, sprinkle on some cayenne pepper, salt, and fresh ground pepper, then get your hands in there and toss, toss, toss! Grill over medium heat, turning every 5 minutes, for 15 minutes total, and you will have heaven laying on your plate.  

Trust me.  Ignore the lack of color and the cruciferous family bloodline.

Just grill and EAT.

Ode to a Grecian Breakfast: A Recipe for Strapatsada

For as much as I hated eggs as a child (just ask my family about "Rachael's egg stories"), I can't believe that I'm actually blogging about this breakfast.  But it is so good and so quick and so easy, I simply have to.  It is called strapatsada: Greek scrambled eggs with tomatoes, feta, and oregano.  Chef Reiton saw it being made by Bittman on Times On Air, JetBlue's video magazine, and came home with the recipe written down on a airplane beverage napkin.  We tried them and--mamma mia! New favorite breakfast in the Reiton house!

To those of you who don't like eggs, give this recipe a shot.  I know this may sound strange considering you are technically eating scrambled eggs, but--it doesn't taste like eggs.  The whole concoction is a delicious blend of flavors and textures that oddly doesn't resemble American scrambled eggs at all.  Instead of being squishy and mild, strapatsada are tender and robust and herby.

This cooks together quickly, so have everything ready before you start.

You will need: a hand grater, a small bowl, a fork or a whisk, a small rubber spatula, a small non-stick pan.

To make a single serving, this is what I use (but you can multiply this times however many people you are serving):

• 1 small tomato-on-the-vine tomato (or a plum tomato from the garden. Yum!)
• 1 1/2-ish Tblsp. olive oil
• 1 small garlic clove, minced or grated
• 2 separate portions of crumbled plain feta cheese, 1 Tblsp. each (use less if this is too much for your taste)
• 1/4 tsp. dried oregano, crushed or 1 tsp. fresh leaves, roughly chopped with a few as garnish
• kosher salt and fresh cracked pepper
• 2 eggs, whisked together until well-blended

1) Slice the very bottom off the tomato.  Hold the hand grater at an angle in the bowl, place the sliced bottom of the tomato against the grater, and then grate the tomato into the bowl.  As you slide the tomato up and down the grater, the skin will peel back and flatten out on the face of the grater and the flesh will squeeze through the holes into the bowl.  Set the pulp aside and toss the skin.

2) Heat the olive oil in a small non-stick pan and toss in the garlic for about 30 seconds.  Add the tomato pulp, salt and pepper to taste, and the oregano.  Bring to a boil, then turn the heat down so that the mixture is at a simmer, stirring occasionally.  Cook until you don't see any more water in the pan when you push the tomatoes to the side with the spatula.  You want to be only seeing the more viscous liquid of the olive oil left.  I would say give it a good 7 minutes or more, depending on the heat setting.

3) Add the eggs and one of the portions of feta cheese and start slowly stirring.  The tomatoes and the eggs will begin to blend.  Continue stirring until the eggs are opaque and have cooked mostly through, about 4 minutes.  They will finish cooking on the plate from the residual heat.  You will still see liquid in the pan, but this is from the oil and tomatoes, not the eggs.

4)  Plate your strapatsada, sprinkle with the second portion of feta and your oregano garnish, and dive in!

A Lazy Creation: Messy Caprese Salad Recipe

To accompany our Italian-themed dinner the other evening (I totally cheated--it was a pre-seasoned Italian pork loin.  Sorry.), I decided to make a Caprese salad to use some of our beautiful Roma tomatoes and sweet basil from the garden.  But--due to my laziness--I just wanted to throw it all together and not take the time to get all pretty with the typical layering.  So that's what I did, darn it! And what resulted tasted better than almost any Caprese salad I have ever tasted! It doesn't look as pretty (especially with a kind-of crappy photo), but you can count on those flavors melding together for a true Italian eating experience!

I'm going to pull a David Rocco on you and tell you to quanto basta everything: use how much you want to—no exact measurements needed! I'll tell you below what I did, but definitely feel free to use more or less of an ingredient to suit your own tastes.

The amounts below fed just two of us, so gauge your quantities from there, too.

What you'll need:

• good, ripe Roma tomatoes, halved lengthwise and then sliced into chunks: I used 3
• fresh mozzarella cheese, torn into bite-sized pieces: I used 3 balls, still dripping brine, from BelGioioso's Bocconcini tub, usually found in the "nice cheese" section near the deli
• fresh basil leaves, slivered or torn
• fresh lemon, juiced: I used half a lemon
• extra virgin olive oil: I used about 3 Tblsp.
• kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

In a medium bowl, whisk together the lemon juice, olive oil, salt, and pepper until it looks like everything has completely incorporated.  Add the rest of the ingredients to the bowl and toss gently but well, making sure everything is coated.  Let the salad rest in the fridge while you finish dinner.  Toss once more before serving.

Delizioso!

The Primal Eggplant: Tweaking Eggplant Rollatini

If you are a vegetable lover like me, you probably are pretty open to trying mostly any vegetable out there.

If you continue to be like me in such matters, you are still--no matter your openness--wary of the eggplant.

In defense of myself, I am (mostly) a believer in the food adage: "In-order-to-know-if-you-really-like-something-you-have-to-try-it-10-times." So, eggplant and I keep trying.  Yes, I discovered the amazing coal-roasted eggplant this summer, which I truly did love.  But, if you've been watching the news as of late, it's not necessarily grilling season up here in Wisconsin.

In perusing my David Rocco cookbook, Made in Italy, the other day, I came across this winner of a recipe (approved by two teenage boys--and I didn't even lie about what it was!): Involtini di Melanzane e Provola.  I adapted it for my primal husband, which is the version I've posted below, but you can use flour instead of the almond meal if you wish.  I do encourage you to give it a try the primal way, though.  I think you'll be happy you did.  The slightly nutty flavor was one of the things the boys liked about it.

Ingredients:
1 medium eggplant
Kosher salt and fresh cracked pepper
1 cup almond meal (I used Trader Joe's) in a pie plate
1 egg, beaten in a pie plate
Extra virgin olive oil for frying (amount will depend on the size of your skillet; you want it a good 1/4 inch deep)
12 slices of smoked provolone

As thinly as you can, slice the eggplant lengthwise.  I got about 12 slices, and that includes discarding some that were just wonky (I'm not very good at slicing thinly and evenly).  Salt the slices heavily and let rest for half an hour to draw out the water.  Pat dry.

Get a plate and a pile of paper towels ready.  Heat the oil in a skillet until it is almost smoking.

Dip a slice of eggplant in the almond meal, coating both sides, then dip it in the egg, coating both sides.  Let the excess egg drip off, then lay the eggplant in the hot oil and fry for about a minute until golden brown.  Flip and get the other side golden.  Remove to a paper towel to absorb excess oil.  Repeat for the rest of the eggplant slices.

When you are done frying, lay a slice of smoked provolone on each slice of eggplant and roll up, lining the rolls up on a warm platter.  Season with fresh cracked pepper.  If you wish, spoon some of Beppe's tomato sauce over the top.

Delizioso! I promise!

The Transubstantiation....of Eggplant: Learning to Coal-Roast

I may get struck down by lighting with that post title, but I cannot think of another way to describe what I just ate.  Like, JUST.  The table isn't even cleared yet.  And I'm so in awe that I cannot help but ignore the dirty dishes on my dining room table, pull out my laptop, and write.  If you knew me, that's a BIG deal.

To reference, once again, the Grilling Issue of Bon Appétit's July 2013 issue: GOD BLESS MELISSA HAMILTON AND CHRISTOPHER HIRSHEIMER.  Their article, "Into the Fire," in which they describe fire-roasting eggplants--it's just changed my life.

This is one of those food experiences where I just want to go on and on and on, etc., etc., etc.  But I'm not going to.  I'm just going to tell you--no, order you--to go witness and partake of this unbelievable transformation of the world's most disgusting vegetable, and you will be a believer of being YOUR OWN PERSONAL CHEF, I promise.

Here is my experience, including recipes (gasp!), of my dinner, this evening, for one--that is me.  Here are the ingredients you will need for ONE PERSON, and then the directions.  And they are mildly adapted--just an FYI.

For the eggplant:
1 small purple eggplant
2 plum tomatoes
2 anchovy fillets, drained of oil and chopped finely
1 small garlic clove, chopped finely
1 tsp. red wine vinegar
2 Tblsp. olive oil
kosher salt to taste
fresh cracked paper to taste
1 tsp. torn cilantro leaves

For a very yummy side dish:
1/2 Tblsp. butter
1 tsp. olive oil
2 ears of sweet corn, kernels sliced from cobs
1 small cayenne pepper, seeded and minced
1 small zucchini, quartered and sliced
1 small garlic clove, minced
kosher salt to taste
fresh cracked pepper to taste
1 Tblsp. torn cilantro leaves

1) Make a hot, smoldering bed of coals (no real fire, here; too much heat).   DO NOT USE BRIQUETTES.  Use real, natural hardwood charcoal.  It's chunks of wood that have been carbonized, not pressed with glue and chemicals that you ingest and get cancer from.  I buy it in the grill section of Menards.  Anyway, you want the coals glowing red, covered in ash.  I did mine in the fire box of our smoker, but I don't see why you couldn't do this on a bed of coals in your firepit.  (Kind of romantic, in a foodie kind of way... Make yourself a nice cocktail while you are waiting for your coals to get perfectly hot.  I made a new beer/booze cocktail.  Will blog about it later...)

2) Take your average, everyday firm purple eggplant from the grocery store and throw it on the bed of coals.  (I didn't even rinse it.  Why bother? It's going on a frickin' bed of coals.)

3) Set your phone timer to 4 minutes.  Have a conversation with your dog while you are waiting.

When it goes off, flip the eggplant with a big ol' pair of tongs 1/4 turn.  Do this 2 more times.  Here's my progression of flips:

Straight on the coals:

After Flip 1:

After Flip 2:



After Flip 3:



4) After the second flip of the eggplant, put a piece of heavy duty aluminum foil directly on a patch of  coals not taken up by the eggplant and drop 2 plum/Roma tomatoes on the foil.  Flip them every once in awhile until the skins are split, and they are sizzingly hot and squishy.



Here's what the eggplant looks like when it is done:



5) When everything is roasted to death, put the veggies on a platter and let them all cool slightly so you don't burn yourself when you skin everything about 5 minutes later.  When you skin the eggplant, you are going to feel like you are peeling off too much, but the skin is really thick, and only the soft juicy center is what is left.  Here's a pic of the eggplant skinned:



6) After you skin the veggies, put the eggplant on a cooling rack over a plate (to drain more water--see pic above).  Put the tomatoes into a fine mesh sieve over a bowl.  Let the eggplant cool while you smash the tomatoes through the sieve.  There will be a lot of gunk left in the sieve, with a pool of fine delicious tomato juice in the bowl.

7) Add the garlic, anchovies, olive oil, salt, pepper, and vinegar to the tomato juice.  Stir/whisk well.

8) Pour half of the tomato sauce into a platter.  Cut the eggplant in half lengthwise and lay the pieces side by side in the juice. (The top just kind-of came off while I was slicing it.  If it doesn't, pull it off.  You don't want to eat charred eggplant skin/stem.)  Sprinkle the flesh with a pinch of kosher salt.  Pour the rest of the sauce on top and let it all soak for a good 20 minutes.

9)  While the eggplant is transubstantiating, prep the veggies for the side dish.  When ready, heat the  olive oil and butter in a skillet over medium-high heat until hot.

10) Add the zucchini, corn kernels, cayenne, garlic, salt, and pepper all at once to the pan, tossing with  the butter and oil mixture until coated.  Shake the skillet to create an even layer of veggies, then let it sit for 2 minutes.

11)  Toss, shake, and let the veggies sit for another 2 minutes.

12)  Add the torn cilantro, then toss, shake, and let the veggies sit for another 2 minutes, then plate the veggie mixture.  (I like my veggies with a bite--California style, as my mom says.  If you like yours squishy, let them go a minute or two longer.)



13)  Now back to the eggplant.  Add another fine sprinkling of kosher salt, garnish with the torn cilantro, then SERVE.



My thoughts on dinner? Sooo amazing.  Smoky, yet fresh from the tomato.  And the cilantro opens up the flavors in a way that I've never experienced before.  And the corn dish with its sweetness...  I am becoming a believer in vegetarianism.

Disregard that it looks like fish.  You have to taste!  GO.  And cook as you deserve!