Usually when I make an omelette, I beat the eggs, mix in whatever other ingredients I want to include and pour the whole mixture into a hot pan.
Today I decided to try layering instead.
I chopped up several slices of prosciutto and heated them in a pan. Once they started to crisp, I poured two beaten eggs over them. I let eggs and prosciutto cook for a moment and then sprinkled shredded cheese over the eggs. I cooked the mixture with minimal disturbance until almost set before loosening carefully and flipping bravely. (I must have had the courage of my convictions because everything stayed in the pan.)
After switching off the heat under the pan, I steamed some chopped zucchini separately and scattered it over the omelette once I had slid it onto a plate -- the plate which covered the bowl of zucchini while it was steaming, so it was nice and hot.
I'm not entirely sure that it was *better* than the way I usually prepare omelettes, but I could tell the difference, tasting layers of flavor rather than simply a blend of flavors.
As a side note, hot food really should be served on warm plates. I remember my father putting plates into the oven to warm a few minutes before dinner was ready. I remember warnings about hot plates from waiters in restaurants. I never gave it a whole lot of thought or really made any kind of connection. Only when I read The Sharper Your Knife, the Less You Cry in which there is an instance when the author fails a test because she did not warm the plate did I put it together. (Keeping a few glasses in the freezer for cold beverages is an excellent idea, too.)
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Monday, July 16, 2012
Wild Planet Salmon Salad
I much prefer fish to beef, pork or even chicken, but as seafood prices have risen and sustainability becomes ever more a concern, I have been eating much less fish as well, but canned tuna in water continues to be a staple -- lean protein that is easy to prepare.
After a batch of not so great grocery store brand albacore, even the old standby was suspect, but now there is hope in canned seafood from Wild Planet Foods. Their products are by no means inexpensive, but you get what you pay for in this case.
Tonight it was once again too hot to cook, so I decided that tuna fish salad was the way to go. When I discovered a can of salmon in the cupboard, I upgraded.
It was so tasty that I ate it all before I really even thought about taking a photo.
I started with six ounces skinless boneless canned Alaskan pink salmon. No water, no oil - just fish and fish juice, which meant that there was no need to drain the can and which also meant I could use a lot less dressing.
I added fresh dill, organic whole grain mustard, Miracle Whip light (I know, I know, but I haven't gotten too far on making my own dressings yet), and magic cheese. All of these were to taste -- probably five or six torn sprigs of dill, about a teaspoon each of mustard and Miracle Whip, and a generous sprinkle of cheese. I added small quantities until I was satisfied with the look, feel and flavor.
There is certainly room for a little salt & pepper and perhaps a bit of celery and/or relish and/or onion for crunch. Serve it on a bed of lettuce or sprouts or chips or make a sandwich.
I ate mine right out of the mixing bowl ... but I did take the time to use a fork.
After a batch of not so great grocery store brand albacore, even the old standby was suspect, but now there is hope in canned seafood from Wild Planet Foods. Their products are by no means inexpensive, but you get what you pay for in this case.
Tonight it was once again too hot to cook, so I decided that tuna fish salad was the way to go. When I discovered a can of salmon in the cupboard, I upgraded.
It was so tasty that I ate it all before I really even thought about taking a photo.
I started with six ounces skinless boneless canned Alaskan pink salmon. No water, no oil - just fish and fish juice, which meant that there was no need to drain the can and which also meant I could use a lot less dressing.
I added fresh dill, organic whole grain mustard, Miracle Whip light (I know, I know, but I haven't gotten too far on making my own dressings yet), and magic cheese. All of these were to taste -- probably five or six torn sprigs of dill, about a teaspoon each of mustard and Miracle Whip, and a generous sprinkle of cheese. I added small quantities until I was satisfied with the look, feel and flavor.
There is certainly room for a little salt & pepper and perhaps a bit of celery and/or relish and/or onion for crunch. Serve it on a bed of lettuce or sprouts or chips or make a sandwich.
I ate mine right out of the mixing bowl ... but I did take the time to use a fork.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Book reporting
Despite what various purveyors of school supplies probably want you to think, it's a bit early to be thinking back to school thoughts, but I found the following while cleaning out e-mail, and it seemed like a fun thing to share. If anyone else wants to share scholastic (or not) formative book memories, feel free.
E-mail originally written 5 February 2011:
Although I like writing about books (and music and movies for that matter), I was never much for book reports. I think that second grade might have been the first year I had to write them because I have several memories of never quite getting it right. I either included to much detail or not enough. And then one day I got in trouble for (I think inadvertently because I don't recall doing it deliberately or to get out of my own assignment) using a significant portion of the blurb on the back of _Superfudge_ by Judy Blume in my own report. I think that it made sense to me because it seemed to have exactly what the teacher wanted.
E-mail originally written 5 February 2011:
Although I like writing about books (and music and movies for that matter), I was never much for book reports. I think that second grade might have been the first year I had to write them because I have several memories of never quite getting it right. I either included to much detail or not enough. And then one day I got in trouble for (I think inadvertently because I don't recall doing it deliberately or to get out of my own assignment) using a significant portion of the blurb on the back of _Superfudge_ by Judy Blume in my own report. I think that it made sense to me because it seemed to have exactly what the teacher wanted.
Wait. I take that back. It was third grade. Not second grade.
The too much detail mostly came from wanting to share the complete experience of a book I had read -- such as The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe -- and which I had enjoyed, or which had made a strong impression on me.
I don't necessarily remember a whole lot else about grade school, but I have lots of memories of reading and books. Fifth grade was The Red Pony by Steinbeck, and an abridged version of A Tale of Two Cities. Sixth grade was All Creatures Great and Small by James Herriott and To Kill a Mockingbird as I recall.
Charlotte's Web is one of the few books I have read more than once, and I have read it probably half a dozen times. Second grade might have beenStuart Little. I remember a teacher reading it to the class. I never could get through The Trumpet of the Swan. James and the Giant Peach was another book I heard read aloud in second grade.
I remember Ann Burns giving me a copy of Peter Pan. And Willow giving me a copy of The House of the Spirits. I remember Just So Stories. I remember Beatrix Potter and Madeline L'Engle and Saturday trips to the library. Books and stories have been the constant in my life for as long as I can remember.
A while ago I came across a book titled Built of Books: How Reading Defined the Life of Oscar Wilde. Oscar Wilde is one of those literary figures I have always wanted to know more about and read more by. I am not so much interested in the scandalous bits as I am his library and how much literature, reading and writing were so much a part of his life, his very being. He is up there with Tennessee Williams' notebooks and the diaries of Virginia Woolf. Dashiell Hammett was a great letter writer, and the Fitzgeralds and Hemingway intrigue me as well. I like seeing them on my shelves next to Homer and Shakespeare.
I like reading what famous writers (or even just writers I enjoy reading) have to say about reading and about books they love. Allende's The Sum of Our Days is a wonderful memoir because of the way that her writing is the constant through everything else that happens. I should send it to you if you haven't already read it. I have her other personal/non fiction writing, but I haven't read it yet.
The letters between Julia Child and Avid Devoto are a complete delight to read. I should plan another day trip to D.C. so that I can go to the Smithsonian and see the famous kitchen. I did it a couple of summers ago to go to the National Book Fair, which was held on the national mall. I went to the talks I wanted to hear and then wandered around the city.
Many of my "friends" on the ubiquitous social network (to which I no longer belong) were famous people I have never even met, but a lot of them post about writing as well as their lives. The social networking site I actually prefer, however, is goodreads.com. I have author friends there, too. It's all about books. You get to see what your friends are reading, what they have read, what they want to read, and how they rated or what they wrote about various books. It's fun.
I like the book world. Movies and music are good, too, but books are still my favorite.
But can you eat a book?
In an attempt to refocus time and energy (dare I say attempt organization?), I find myself wondering if books and food can coexist and co-mingle peacefully in one blog. On the other hand, it might be more work than it is worth to keep the two separate.
I think that the best plan is to not worry about it so much and do something about actually writing, even in fragmented bits and pieces.
I think that the best plan is to not worry about it so much and do something about actually writing, even in fragmented bits and pieces.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Variety in every bite
One of the benefits to cooking -- and I think especially to cooking new recipes -- is a lack of homogeneity within each dish.
I have become a fan of green beans and black quinoa salad. Well, I use regular quinoa rather than black, but the basic plan is the same. By using fresh green beans and preparing the dressing myself, I am assured that each bite will be slightly different. Some beans are crunchier, others are sweeter. Some bites are more garlicky while in others the balsamic vinegar is more prominent. Not every bite includes green onion. It is a lovely little adventure to keep eating in order to see what the next bite may bring.
Plus, it is a lovely starting point. Since my first experience with the recipe, I have prepared it with zucchini instead of green beans, and I am pretty sure that there is an asparagus variation in my near future as asparagus was on sale at the grocery store (and early spring is asparagus season).
Cooking classes tell you that you want to cut up ingredients into equally-sized pieces so that everything cooks evenly. That reasoning is all well and good, and perhaps with practice I will eventually achieve uniformly cut potatoes or carrots or celery or whatever, but until that day I plan to enjoy my inconsistent, varied results.
I have become a fan of green beans and black quinoa salad. Well, I use regular quinoa rather than black, but the basic plan is the same. By using fresh green beans and preparing the dressing myself, I am assured that each bite will be slightly different. Some beans are crunchier, others are sweeter. Some bites are more garlicky while in others the balsamic vinegar is more prominent. Not every bite includes green onion. It is a lovely little adventure to keep eating in order to see what the next bite may bring.
Plus, it is a lovely starting point. Since my first experience with the recipe, I have prepared it with zucchini instead of green beans, and I am pretty sure that there is an asparagus variation in my near future as asparagus was on sale at the grocery store (and early spring is asparagus season).
Cooking classes tell you that you want to cut up ingredients into equally-sized pieces so that everything cooks evenly. That reasoning is all well and good, and perhaps with practice I will eventually achieve uniformly cut potatoes or carrots or celery or whatever, but until that day I plan to enjoy my inconsistent, varied results.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
The post:
Susanna is officially convinced that the FDA is more interested in the health of pharmaceutical companies and industrial farming than the people ingesting the products of said companies. From the milk carton label: "FDA states: No significant difference in milk from cows treated with artificial growth hormone." Seriously?!?
The comment:
What are we supposed to do when Congress and all the regulatory agencies are bought? If you have any insight, I'd really like to know.
The insight (or lack thereof):
The way I see it, there are two choices -- we can rail against the machine, or we can remove ourselves from it. (And there is likely a third choice of finding some balance or happy medium between the two extremes, but I have never been much good at balance.)
We can become activists, educate ourselves as to what is really going on and why (i.e. follow the money), write to our government representatives -- local, state and national -- telling them what is wrong and asking them what they are going to do about it so that we don't elect someone else the next time around. We can get involved and encourage and corral others to do the same. Go to meetings and rallies. Vote every chance we get. Write letters to editors.
To me, however, that sounds a lot like becoming part of the noise which causes me to not watch, read or listen to news, and I would worry about getting lost in the crowd.
My current plan runs more along the lines of removing myself from the machine, or at least significantly reducing its influence on my life. I have been reading about food and cooking for the last several years. This year, I am shifting more toward learning about where food comes from. I already know about the horrors of industrial agriculture -- turkeys that can't walk (or, as I have recently learned, reproduce on their own), egg-laying hens that never see the light of day, dairy cows living in boxes, hooked up to machines -- but, on the other hand, I don't really know what "organic" means, especially if it still comes in a box or wrapped in plastic, or the difference between cage free, free range and cruelty free.
In the last year, I have made an effort to shop smaller in general, and now I am focusing on being much more aware of what is in my food and where it comes from. I am being helped along with this year's reading list, which has thus far included The American Way of Eating: Undercover at Walmart, Applebee's, Farm Fields and the Dinner Table by Tracie McMillan, The Kitchen Counter Cooking School: How a Few Simple Lessons Transformed Nine Culinary Novices into Fearless Home Cooks by Kathleen Flinn, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver, and, most recently This Dirty Life: On Farming, Food and Love by Kristin Kimball.
I am educating myself, and discussing what I read and the affects and influences it is having on the choices I make with people who have similar interests and concerns. It's not hard to find common ground. After all, everyone has to eat, and most people like food quite a bit.
I grew up in a household of ingredients, for the most part. Despite the urban setting, there were gardens in the back yard. There were weekly visits to the farmers' market. Fish was fresh, rather than breaded and frozen. Veggies could be frozen, but I don't remember anything other than tomatoes coming out of a can. Bread was homemade rather than store bought. Cheese was purchased cut from a wheel or block and wrapped in butcher paper rather than cellophane wrapped in individual squares. For a long time, yogurt was homemade.
I want to get back to being a household of ingredients. And I want to know where those ingredients come from. I watch my co-workers eat microwaved frozen meals. The ingredient list takes up a whole end of the box. Meanwhile, last week *my* frozen meals were fennel, spinach and split pea soup (also including onions, garlic, a few herbs, water and white wine) topped with a bit of sour cream.
On Saturday I bought a bag full of leafy greens from an organic farmer twenty miles from my house. It was a bit of an adventure to get there, but I managed not to get lost, and today I made lasagna with the spinach I bought from him, ricotta cheese I made myself (though I can't quite vouch for the source of the milk), marinara sauce I made myself, and an egg from a cage free, organically fed chicken. The pasta, mozzarella and herbs are of unknown origin, but I feel pretty good about it all the same. For one thing, it tastes good. For another, the ingredients -- even the not so local ones -- are pretty basic. For a third, I am helping sustain local farms.
In short, while I am not currently willing to take on the FDA, I am willing to take on my own kitchen where I know that the choices and changes I make will really count for something. In fact, they already have.
Susanna is officially convinced that the FDA is more interested in the health of pharmaceutical companies and industrial farming than the people ingesting the products of said companies. From the milk carton label: "FDA states: No significant difference in milk from cows treated with artificial growth hormone." Seriously?!?
The comment:
What are we supposed to do when Congress and all the regulatory agencies are bought? If you have any insight, I'd really like to know.
The insight (or lack thereof):
The way I see it, there are two choices -- we can rail against the machine, or we can remove ourselves from it. (And there is likely a third choice of finding some balance or happy medium between the two extremes, but I have never been much good at balance.)
We can become activists, educate ourselves as to what is really going on and why (i.e. follow the money), write to our government representatives -- local, state and national -- telling them what is wrong and asking them what they are going to do about it so that we don't elect someone else the next time around. We can get involved and encourage and corral others to do the same. Go to meetings and rallies. Vote every chance we get. Write letters to editors.
To me, however, that sounds a lot like becoming part of the noise which causes me to not watch, read or listen to news, and I would worry about getting lost in the crowd.
My current plan runs more along the lines of removing myself from the machine, or at least significantly reducing its influence on my life. I have been reading about food and cooking for the last several years. This year, I am shifting more toward learning about where food comes from. I already know about the horrors of industrial agriculture -- turkeys that can't walk (or, as I have recently learned, reproduce on their own), egg-laying hens that never see the light of day, dairy cows living in boxes, hooked up to machines -- but, on the other hand, I don't really know what "organic" means, especially if it still comes in a box or wrapped in plastic, or the difference between cage free, free range and cruelty free.
In the last year, I have made an effort to shop smaller in general, and now I am focusing on being much more aware of what is in my food and where it comes from. I am being helped along with this year's reading list, which has thus far included The American Way of Eating: Undercover at Walmart, Applebee's, Farm Fields and the Dinner Table by Tracie McMillan, The Kitchen Counter Cooking School: How a Few Simple Lessons Transformed Nine Culinary Novices into Fearless Home Cooks by Kathleen Flinn, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver, and, most recently This Dirty Life: On Farming, Food and Love by Kristin Kimball.
I am educating myself, and discussing what I read and the affects and influences it is having on the choices I make with people who have similar interests and concerns. It's not hard to find common ground. After all, everyone has to eat, and most people like food quite a bit.
I grew up in a household of ingredients, for the most part. Despite the urban setting, there were gardens in the back yard. There were weekly visits to the farmers' market. Fish was fresh, rather than breaded and frozen. Veggies could be frozen, but I don't remember anything other than tomatoes coming out of a can. Bread was homemade rather than store bought. Cheese was purchased cut from a wheel or block and wrapped in butcher paper rather than cellophane wrapped in individual squares. For a long time, yogurt was homemade.
I want to get back to being a household of ingredients. And I want to know where those ingredients come from. I watch my co-workers eat microwaved frozen meals. The ingredient list takes up a whole end of the box. Meanwhile, last week *my* frozen meals were fennel, spinach and split pea soup (also including onions, garlic, a few herbs, water and white wine) topped with a bit of sour cream.
On Saturday I bought a bag full of leafy greens from an organic farmer twenty miles from my house. It was a bit of an adventure to get there, but I managed not to get lost, and today I made lasagna with the spinach I bought from him, ricotta cheese I made myself (though I can't quite vouch for the source of the milk), marinara sauce I made myself, and an egg from a cage free, organically fed chicken. The pasta, mozzarella and herbs are of unknown origin, but I feel pretty good about it all the same. For one thing, it tastes good. For another, the ingredients -- even the not so local ones -- are pretty basic. For a third, I am helping sustain local farms.
In short, while I am not currently willing to take on the FDA, I am willing to take on my own kitchen where I know that the choices and changes I make will really count for something. In fact, they already have.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Mastering the art of leek and potato soup
One of the items which did not get cleaned out of the refrigerator when I made my fabulous vegetable soup was a pair of leeks. I forget if I bought them with a purpose, or if I just had vague notions of satisfying my craving for leek and potato soup, but in the end the plan became leek and potato soup.
Now, I already knew that this soup is as basic as it gets -- leeks, potatoes, water and salt. Puree if you like. Add cream if you like. And that's pretty much it. What I was not sure of was the proportions involved, so I went looking for a recipe to tell me.
I started with my monstrous Gourmet cookbook. With over a thousand pages, I thought I would find what I needed for sure. There is even a quote from Ruth Reichl, the editor, on the back cover professing "Our goal was to give you a book with every recip you would ever want." I looked in the index under leek, potato and soup. Nothing. More than a thousand pages, and I strik out the very first time I try to use it. Yet another example of bigger not always being better, I suppose.
My next stop was at splendidtable.org to see what my pal Lynne Rosetto Kasper had to say on the matter. She had what I was looking for, but she admitted that Julia was her source, specifically Julia's Kitchen Wisdom, so rather than write down or pritn out a recipe from the internet, I decided that it would be just as easy to go straight to the source. And there it was, the very first recipe, under the heading Primal Soups. I didn't even need to use the index!!
Given the simplicity of the recipe, I am curious to see if it shows up in Ratio by Michael Ruhlman. One part leeks, one part potatoes, two parts water and salt to season. Bring to a boil and then simmer, partially covered, for twenty to thirty minutes or until vegetables are tender. Adjust seasoning as needed and serve as is or pureed, with cream on top or whisked in.
I had a little more than two cups of leeks once I chopped them up. (Don't forget to rinse thoroughly and use white and light green parts only, composting the dark green bits.) I chopped up a little more than two cups of potatoes. Julia calls for "baking" potatoes. I have red potatoes because that is what I love -- for baking, boiling, frying and mashing -- and I refuse to peel, so after a scrub and a chop, in they went. I added four cups of water and half a cup of pinot blanc because I seem to use wine almost as often as magic cheese these days -- Valley of the Moon Pinot Blanc 2010 to be specific in this case.
I think that I could have done with less liquid -- maybe cook uncovered rather than partially covered. I wanted creamy soup, so I pureed in half a container, about four ounces, of mascarpone cheese. The soup was still a little thinner than I would have liked, but it tasted pretty darn good. The second cup was almost buttery, which kind of made me wonder what a splash of lemon juice might have done for it. I wasn't brave enough to try this time.
Following the success of this recipe, I have begun reading Julia's Kitchen Wisdom, and once again, Julia is brilliant. If you are intimidated by Mastering the Art of French Cooking, try Julia's Kitchen Wisdom. It's a diminutive volume, but every page is packed with recipes broken down into their building blocks -- a distillation of forty years of cooking adventures.
I have learned that "rather than using a butter-and-flour roux for thickening, you simmer rice in the soup base until very tender. When it is turned into a very fine puree in the electric blender, you have a deliciously creamy, literally fat-free cream soup." Brilliant! And gluten free for those who are concerned about such things. She did not specify what kind of rice to use, but I wonder if the naturally creamy arborio rice I have been using for risotto would be as delicious as I imagine.
Thanks to this little book, I am no longer intimidated by fish chowder and am excited to make my own. Hollandaise sauce, on the other hand, while very clearly explained, is still kind of scary.
I am only eighteen pages in, but I have already marked half a dozen examples of Julia's trademark humor and turn of phrase. I would quote more extensively, but I think that they would lose something when taken out of context, so you will just have to go get your own copy and read to see what I am talking about. Go on. You know you want to.
Now, I already knew that this soup is as basic as it gets -- leeks, potatoes, water and salt. Puree if you like. Add cream if you like. And that's pretty much it. What I was not sure of was the proportions involved, so I went looking for a recipe to tell me.
I started with my monstrous Gourmet cookbook. With over a thousand pages, I thought I would find what I needed for sure. There is even a quote from Ruth Reichl, the editor, on the back cover professing "Our goal was to give you a book with every recip you would ever want." I looked in the index under leek, potato and soup. Nothing. More than a thousand pages, and I strik out the very first time I try to use it. Yet another example of bigger not always being better, I suppose.
My next stop was at splendidtable.org to see what my pal Lynne Rosetto Kasper had to say on the matter. She had what I was looking for, but she admitted that Julia was her source, specifically Julia's Kitchen Wisdom, so rather than write down or pritn out a recipe from the internet, I decided that it would be just as easy to go straight to the source. And there it was, the very first recipe, under the heading Primal Soups. I didn't even need to use the index!!
Given the simplicity of the recipe, I am curious to see if it shows up in Ratio by Michael Ruhlman. One part leeks, one part potatoes, two parts water and salt to season. Bring to a boil and then simmer, partially covered, for twenty to thirty minutes or until vegetables are tender. Adjust seasoning as needed and serve as is or pureed, with cream on top or whisked in.
I had a little more than two cups of leeks once I chopped them up. (Don't forget to rinse thoroughly and use white and light green parts only, composting the dark green bits.) I chopped up a little more than two cups of potatoes. Julia calls for "baking" potatoes. I have red potatoes because that is what I love -- for baking, boiling, frying and mashing -- and I refuse to peel, so after a scrub and a chop, in they went. I added four cups of water and half a cup of pinot blanc because I seem to use wine almost as often as magic cheese these days -- Valley of the Moon Pinot Blanc 2010 to be specific in this case.
I think that I could have done with less liquid -- maybe cook uncovered rather than partially covered. I wanted creamy soup, so I pureed in half a container, about four ounces, of mascarpone cheese. The soup was still a little thinner than I would have liked, but it tasted pretty darn good. The second cup was almost buttery, which kind of made me wonder what a splash of lemon juice might have done for it. I wasn't brave enough to try this time.
Following the success of this recipe, I have begun reading Julia's Kitchen Wisdom, and once again, Julia is brilliant. If you are intimidated by Mastering the Art of French Cooking, try Julia's Kitchen Wisdom. It's a diminutive volume, but every page is packed with recipes broken down into their building blocks -- a distillation of forty years of cooking adventures.
I have learned that "rather than using a butter-and-flour roux for thickening, you simmer rice in the soup base until very tender. When it is turned into a very fine puree in the electric blender, you have a deliciously creamy, literally fat-free cream soup." Brilliant! And gluten free for those who are concerned about such things. She did not specify what kind of rice to use, but I wonder if the naturally creamy arborio rice I have been using for risotto would be as delicious as I imagine.
Thanks to this little book, I am no longer intimidated by fish chowder and am excited to make my own. Hollandaise sauce, on the other hand, while very clearly explained, is still kind of scary.
I am only eighteen pages in, but I have already marked half a dozen examples of Julia's trademark humor and turn of phrase. I would quote more extensively, but I think that they would lose something when taken out of context, so you will just have to go get your own copy and read to see what I am talking about. Go on. You know you want to.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
When meat loaf is stuffed in a pepper or a squash rather than a pan
 |
| Stuffed red and green peppers and zucchini and yellow squash |
When you can easily (okay, so my definition of easy cooking might be different than a lot of other people's, but bear with me just for fun) make food this good on your own, why on Earth would you eat processed crap?
I made the stuffed peppers and squash pictured to the left, and wow are they tasty. Depending on your preferences, they could have possibly done with a bit more seasoning, but I am going to stick with wow and yum.
One large egg, one small onion (finely chopped), one shallot (finely chopped), one rib of celery (finely chopped), three to four cloves of garlic (minced), three tablespoons of ketchup, and about one quarter cup fresh parsley (chopped) were all whisked together in a large bowl. (As a side note, I purchased a set of Duralex bowls not too long ago, and I love them. They are lighter than my trusty Pyrex, but I think just as sturdy, and come in many more sizes.) Salt and pepper were added to season. (I didn't use much of either.) Next a generous handful each of Panko bread crumbs and magic cheese (blend of Romano, Asiago and Parmesan) were mixed in. (If you want to measure, go with 1/4 cup.) Into the mixture was folded a pound of ground turkey. Oh, and the innards scraped out of the squash. (Another side note: a butter knife is excellent for scraping out said squash.)
Peppers (cut in half cross ways with seeds and ribs removed) and squash (sliced lengthwise and hollowed out) were stuffed with turkey mixture, placed in oiled baking dish. Marinara was spooned over the top, about a tablespoon per pepper or squash half. The lot was baked for 45 minutes at 400 degrees and then removed from oven and baking pan onto platter where they were sprinkled with a bit more cheese. More marinara sauce could be added to taste, but these were plenty moist as is.
For me, they make a fine meal on their own, but some rice or cous cous or pilaf on the side might not be a bad idea. Or maybe a salad and some garlic bread.
Overall, pretty low fat and low sodium -- certainly lower fat than regular meat loaf, which the stuffing ends up resembling once cooked -- except for the cheese, but you could reduce or omit that. Oats could be substituted for bread crumbs. I use oats most of the time when I make meat loaf. The ketchup might be evil (despite Reagan's classification of it as a vegetable ... although aren't tomatoes fruit?) in terms of sodium, but with only three tablespoons in the whole recipe, it works out to something like a teaspoon or teaspoon and a half per serving. Nevertheless a bit of Worcestershire sauce (which is probably equally evil, if not more so) or balsamic vinegar could be a decent replacement, as could a bit of homemade marinara sauce -- just something to give it a little more flavor and something else besides the egg to bind it all together. Oh yes, the egg. Well, again, one egg in the entire recipe, but the corresponding dose of egg substitute ought to work as well. Otherwise it has no business being called egg substitute. It should be more like egg approximation.
All in all, an excellent, lower fat meat loaf alternative. (Once more, I say yum!)
Friday, January 27, 2012
Rainy day cooking
Today was one of those perfect, cold, gray, rainy days just made for cooking, so after I spent a surprisingly short amount of time at the DMV renewing my driver's license, I picked up a loaf of sourdough bread and some sour cream and went home to make soup, which is not only an excellent activity for a rainy wintry afternoon, but also a great way to clean out the refrigerator (provided that anything fuzzy or out of date does not actually make it into the pot).
I chopped up a large red onion, a shallot, three stalks of celery, a small bunch of slightly wilted carrots, at least half a dozen cloves of garlic, half a small head of cabbage, two small zucchini, one small yellow squash, one broccoli crown, and about eight medium-sized white mushrooms.
The onion, shallot, garlic, celery, and carrots went into my larger enameled cast iron pot (like Le Creuset but not) with enough oil to coat and seasoned with sea salt and fresh ground pepper. (I have a nice blend of peppercorns.) They were cooked, covered, over medium low heat for about fifteen minutes, stirred frequently to keep them from sticking and burning.
Seasonings went in next -- dried basil and paprika (two teaspoons each) and tomato paste (two heaping tablespoons -- and the lot was stirred together and cooked at a higher temperature for a couple of minutes. I always find that the vegetables get a bit dry at this point, in danger of burning, so I add half a cup of wine to keep everything moist and yet still hot. This time it was Grappa La Court red wine.
Then the rest of the chopped vegetables were added, along with a couple of handfuls of spinach, which I did not chop, another one and a half cups of wine and six cups of vegetable broth. I think I chopped up a bit more cabbage and threw that in as well.
I simmered the lot for about twenty minutes and then started tasting. Yum! The wine is rather strong, and fairly tannic, so the broth was a shade bitter. I ground in a little more sea salt and some herbs (a blend which came packaged in their own little grinder), and simmered a bit longer. Even more yum!
A hefty slice of sourdough bread, and lunch was served.
One of the main reasons I make a version of this soup fairly often is that it freezes really well and is therefore great to take to work for lunch, so I am set for lunches next week.
I chopped up a large red onion, a shallot, three stalks of celery, a small bunch of slightly wilted carrots, at least half a dozen cloves of garlic, half a small head of cabbage, two small zucchini, one small yellow squash, one broccoli crown, and about eight medium-sized white mushrooms.
The onion, shallot, garlic, celery, and carrots went into my larger enameled cast iron pot (like Le Creuset but not) with enough oil to coat and seasoned with sea salt and fresh ground pepper. (I have a nice blend of peppercorns.) They were cooked, covered, over medium low heat for about fifteen minutes, stirred frequently to keep them from sticking and burning.
Seasonings went in next -- dried basil and paprika (two teaspoons each) and tomato paste (two heaping tablespoons -- and the lot was stirred together and cooked at a higher temperature for a couple of minutes. I always find that the vegetables get a bit dry at this point, in danger of burning, so I add half a cup of wine to keep everything moist and yet still hot. This time it was Grappa La Court red wine.
Then the rest of the chopped vegetables were added, along with a couple of handfuls of spinach, which I did not chop, another one and a half cups of wine and six cups of vegetable broth. I think I chopped up a bit more cabbage and threw that in as well.
I simmered the lot for about twenty minutes and then started tasting. Yum! The wine is rather strong, and fairly tannic, so the broth was a shade bitter. I ground in a little more sea salt and some herbs (a blend which came packaged in their own little grinder), and simmered a bit longer. Even more yum!
A hefty slice of sourdough bread, and lunch was served.
One of the main reasons I make a version of this soup fairly often is that it freezes really well and is therefore great to take to work for lunch, so I am set for lunches next week.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Mushroom and Pappardelle Soup with Gremolata
Vegetarian Times January/February 2012, page 30 http://www.vegetariantimes.com/recipes/11828
I still don't know what pappardelle noodles are, although I am sure that a small amount of research would remedy the situation, and they could perhaps be a project for my fancy new pasta maker. Given that there are no instructions for cooking the noodles ahead of time, I am guessing that they must be pretty close to fresh in order to be cooked after simmering in soup broth for about 6 minutes. I used medium shells instead and boiled them while preparing the rest of the soup.
I did not cover the pot while bringing the soup to a boil and can't help wondering if that omission on my part accounts for the relative thinness of the broth.
I used white mushroom rather than cremini and threw in a few baby bellas for good measure because I do so love the portabellas, and rather than one large onion, I diced a large shallot, a small yellow onion, and a small red onion.
As usual, I substituted part of the broth for wine. In this case, 7 cups of broth became 5 cups of broth and 2 cups of my favorite sauvignon blanc. Culpeo sauvignon blanc from the Curico Valley in Chile is wonderful for both drinking and cooking -- lighter and a bit more accessible or friendly than what I generally think of when I think of sauvignon blanc.
I did not drag out the food processor for 1/3 cup of parsley, 1 clove of garlic and 2 teaspoons of grated lemon zest. I chopped up the lot and used the mortar and pestle instead, which worked just fine as far as I can tell.
Is it just me, or is grating zest a pain? Relatively speaking, a lot of effort for not a lot of return. It also seems a bit wasteful to buy an entire fruit and only use a very thin outer layer of the peel, but then it is not exactly difficult to find a use for the rest of the lemon. I'll have to investigate the possibility of acquiring packaged zest since the lack of same will often deter me from trying a recipe.
I added more noodles to the leftovers. If the recipe were made as a thicker, alfredo sort of sauce, it would go nicely over fettuccine or baked chicken -- anything that likes cream sauce really. Peas would be a nice complement to the beans and mushrooms as well.
I still don't know what pappardelle noodles are, although I am sure that a small amount of research would remedy the situation, and they could perhaps be a project for my fancy new pasta maker. Given that there are no instructions for cooking the noodles ahead of time, I am guessing that they must be pretty close to fresh in order to be cooked after simmering in soup broth for about 6 minutes. I used medium shells instead and boiled them while preparing the rest of the soup.
I did not cover the pot while bringing the soup to a boil and can't help wondering if that omission on my part accounts for the relative thinness of the broth.
I used white mushroom rather than cremini and threw in a few baby bellas for good measure because I do so love the portabellas, and rather than one large onion, I diced a large shallot, a small yellow onion, and a small red onion.
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| Produced by Vina La Fortuna S.A. Sagrada Familia, Chile |
I did not drag out the food processor for 1/3 cup of parsley, 1 clove of garlic and 2 teaspoons of grated lemon zest. I chopped up the lot and used the mortar and pestle instead, which worked just fine as far as I can tell.
Is it just me, or is grating zest a pain? Relatively speaking, a lot of effort for not a lot of return. It also seems a bit wasteful to buy an entire fruit and only use a very thin outer layer of the peel, but then it is not exactly difficult to find a use for the rest of the lemon. I'll have to investigate the possibility of acquiring packaged zest since the lack of same will often deter me from trying a recipe.
I added more noodles to the leftovers. If the recipe were made as a thicker, alfredo sort of sauce, it would go nicely over fettuccine or baked chicken -- anything that likes cream sauce really. Peas would be a nice complement to the beans and mushrooms as well.
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