Liquid Courage: Vegetables Plus Water Equals Soup

I’m not going to talk about how I used to run a soup club (I used to run a soup club), or about the time my grandparents, worried that I was still single, sent me to see a Kabbalist, who gave me a project involving soup-making (it… worked?) I’m not going to regale you with soup memories (like the soup I once ate in a dream and am still trying to locate IRL [it had tahini in it]). I really just want to say that soup-making should be very simple, and inexpensive. At the end of a long, cold, and rainy day, soup should be within your reach.

I’m okay with some recipes being hard – take pie, for example. Crust, filling, beautiful lattice top. I’m not interested in short cuts. I want to do it all, from scratch, and perfectly. Soup, however, is by definition, such simple food. I don’t use broths or stocks, pre-made or purchased or otherwise. Just good veggies, seasoned well, and the right amount of cooking time. Last week, I exited my subway station and went to the store, where I bought a butternut squash and 3 leeks. This was after going to another store, and trying to buy a butternut squash and 3 leeks, but being faced with a $10 credit card minimum, which I angrily told them was illegal (it’s not illegal, just rude). I just straight up left the squash and leeks on the checkout counter. Sorry! Anyway, I went to the supermarket next door instead. They have no credit card minimum (as no supermarket should), AND their swipey screen, when asking for your PIN, reads, “ENTER SECRET CODE”, which I LOVE.

Got home, sauteed the leeks in grape seed oil, salt, pepper, and curry powder, added chunks of the peeled butternut, added water to almost-but-not-quite cover the squash, and then left it to gently boil until the squash was verrrrry soft. Until I added a Bamix to my wedding registry, I had never owned any kind of immersion blender. My soups have been chunky for a long time. Sometimes I’d do a thing where I sort of gently mashed the veggie chunks against the side of the pot. But now, velvety, smooth soups are back in my life. It’s just nice to have range, you know? And the Bamix itself is just a great tool. So I pureed the soup and then served myself a bowl, decorated with a little olive oil drizzle, and a few toasted, spicy pepitas (I keep a container in the freezer). I ate it alone, on the couch, while watching COFFEE AND CIGARETTES for the 7th time. We ate more the next day, as part of our Friday night dinner (accompanied by this bread, which is now a Shabbos staple), and then I polished off the final bowl last night. The flavour had, of course, intensified, and the soup had thickened. The squash was unbelievably sweet, and I was a little sad when my bowl was empty.

Make soup! It’s just veggies and water, and if you make a little extra, you can freeze a container, for a fun redux a few weeks later. You’ll free up some time to finally finish writing your wedding Thank You cards, you ingrate

 

Here she is! Butternut squash and leek soup.

 

DDDDINNER: Party on a Monday Night

I fucking love dinner parties. I mean, I love dinner parties. The conceptualizing, the planning, the execution of it all. I don’t even need to be part of the party, just the fact that I can make it happen is enough – I should have been a caterer?

My two inspirations this week were this recipe (http://www.bonappetit.com/recipe/halibut-confit-with-leeks-coriander-and-lemon) and the farmers market (always the farmers market). Oh and also, leeks. It must be the season but there are these gorgeous, gargantuan green and white shoots in all the booths and I had to have some.

Aside for the leeks and fish dish, I went into the thing open-minded and let the market guide me. I arrived at 8 am, which is a little like getting to the party awkwardly early. The vendors were busy getting the goods unpacked and it seemed like it would be an additional few minutes for the market to unleash its full bounty, but I found plenty to inspire.

Cute hakurei turnips, two bunches. Mustard greens, baby red leaf lettuces. The most amazing, mind-blowing cucumbers, the ne plus ultra of gourds (did you know cucumbers were in the gourd family?).

Cooking for six on a Monday night forces a certain speed and efficiency. Rushing home from work, I reviewed the menu in my mind. I was also certain I wanted sake but it was either finish work or run to the liquor store and I chose the former.

Menu:

• assorted appetizers
• green salad
• roasted turnips
• cod confit with leeks, coriander, lemon
• wine and the brown stuff

The boyfriend had “helpfully” made a beet dip (originally a beet soup?) the night before but while it was delicious, it did not go with the menu I imagined. I let him serve it as an appetizer.   The dip was accompanied by fresh crusty bread, cheese, the mindblowing cukes and a little homemade yogurt sauce.

(One small tub 2% plain greek yogurt + one garlic-pressed garlic clove, a squeeze of fresh lemon juice, splash of olive oil and flakey salt makes the best dip for almost anything. Adding fresh herbs only makes it better.)

With greens so fresh (and so green) I kept it simple. I added my signature dressing (lemony, rice vinegary vinaigrette), sliced an avocado and let them speak for themselves.

I’ve wanted to do something with hakureis ever since I saw an instagram featuring attractive roasted ones. After a quick decapitation and a rinse, the little turnips were treated to a coating of miso, sesame oil, safflower oil, soy sauce, honey and rice vinegar. Past experiments have taught me not to make the marinade too thick, which let the turnips roast comfortably at 375° for about 35 minutes. A little sweet, a little salty, perfectly yummy little vegetables.

my little turnt-ups

Now the recipe in mind called for halibut, which supposedly is very expensive, so the boyfriend got cod instead. Except he went to a shop in Grand Central and paid the equivalent of a good sushi dinner, so I’m not sure how much we saved in the end. But it was a beautiful piece of fish.

I prepped the leeks and coriander and lemon and roasted them in a cup of olive oil as instructed. After fifteen minutes of “nestling” I was told to “pour the oil out into a “heatproof measuring cup.”

When people write these recipes do they ever think about how a regular person would actually do it? Pour out the hot oil; okay, but with which other hands? I’m proud to say it happened, but not without help. Also, RIP the one oven mitt did not survive the maneuver.

The fish, actually, came out great. The whole meal was fantastic, which was a testament not to the food but to the people who came to eat it, brought bourbon and stayed late, despite a looming Tuesday morning, to enjoy it.

fin.

This, That, The Other: 3 Recent Eats

1. A Black Seed Bagel

I had few days off work recently, and I spent them trying to do some fun New York-y things. I went to see some art, I had a fun solo lunch at Russ & Daughters, I went to see GONE GIRL at 2.40pm on a Tuesday. And I finally went to eat a bagel at Black Seed. Trekking into the city on a Sunday, and negotiating endless bread lines (yes, they are bread lines) at whichever Hip New Eatery? As people trying to sound like old men from New York say: fuhgeddaboudit. But late morning, mid-week — I had little to lose. The line wasn’t too bad, and I wrangled myself a place to sit by the window. I ordered an everything bagel (they don’t do pumpernickel! Maybe that’s the ***Montreal Bagel*** thing? I’d never eaten a ***Montreal Bagel*** before, so I don’t have anything to compare it to) with their beet cured lox (6.9/10) and some avocado. Of course, it was a little pricey, as was the Stumptown, but I knew that going into this. There’s always that brief moment of disappointment upon receiving a bagel that is smaller than anticipated, but truth is, it’s a size that probably makes more sense than the classic, doughy behemoths New York bagels often are. It’s very SoHo, and a little shame-inducing: “I cost more because I’m smaller and it’s for your own good,” and you’re like, “Yes bagel, you’re right and I’m a glutton for ever having wanted more :-/” Unless you are very hungry. Sometimes I am so hungry and I want every bite of those giant bagels. Anyway, I enjoyed my small and expensive Manhattan bagel, and I ate it sitting perched at the window seats, between two other solo bagel-eaters, looking out at all the people walking by in their dumb, cool clothes.

2. Possibly my final bottle of Grady’s Cold Brew Coffee for the season?

The weather has cooled right down but I can’t seem to say goodbye to cold coffee season. Last year, my pal Zach got me onto Grady’s Cold Brew – literally, without any doubt, the most delicious coffee I have ever tasted. I didn’t know it was possible. Grady’s is impossibly smooth and rich, without even a tinge of acidity. It’s also fairly concentrated; 1 part Grady’s needs like, 2 parts milk, and a bunch of ice. Oh my god. I wait all week to drink this stuff in bed on a Shabbos morning. I buy a big bottle of it (I usually need to make a special trip to a grocery store slightly nicer than the ones in my neighbourhood) and just ride it out. No more than 2 cups in a day, though. I never considered myself caffeine-dependent until I went to the store for my fix, and they were out. I began to panic – my emotional response was like, pretty real and also embarrassing. We made our own cold brew that weekend – it wasn’t bad!

That special milk-hitting-the-coffee moment of ekstasis (ἔκστασις),

3. Roasted Cauliflower with Green Pea Pesto & Mushrooms

I made this recipe up. I actually feel my cooking has improved lately, especially my veggie dishes. I don’t eat much meat, and I get way more excited about which vegetables and fruits are in season. I recently realized that one of the reasons I don’t buy or cook meat often is that it’s just messier. Animal fat is just harder to clean, and I think scrubbing grease of pots, plates, and containers was actually starting to bother me. Anyway, roasted cauliflower is always delicious. I toss it in some grape seed oil, add some salt and pepper, and sometimes a little curry powder or a pinch of cumin seeds, and roast it until it’s nicely browned. Then I sauteed up some green peas (I actually love frozen peas – I use them in anything, and they are a yum high-fiber addition when I don’t have much fresh produce around). I took about half the sauteed peas and blended them with a handful of basil, some fresh garlic, a few pine nuts, olive oil and salt. Green pea pesto! I don’t think I invented this, but it’s new to my repertoire. With the remaining half of the peas, still in the pan, I added sliced mushrooms until they were cooked through. Then I tossed the cauliflower, peas and mushrooms, and pesto, all together. Added a few more pine nuts, and a little lemon zest. Ta-da!

(Aforementioned recipe is on the top right.)

About The Tin Of Schmaltz in My Fridge: A Rosh Hashana Recap

There’s a tin of schmaltz in my fridge right now. I got it at Fairway last week, the day before I did my Rosh Hashana cooking. I was attempting my grandmother’s carrot tsimmes recipe (ingredients: carrots, honey, sugar – nothing else), which she gave me, over the phone, the night before. “It’s poison,” she said, “But it’s so good.” The schmaltz goes into the kneidel that sits inside the tsimmes. Not your widely known, fluffy chicken soup-style kneidel, but one large and dense dumpling that sits in the center of all the thinly sliced carrots. And when you take a spoonful of the tsimmes, you take a spoonful of the kneidel too. I think a lot of people make their own schmaltz by trimming excess fat from their raw chickens, but when I saw the tin of Empire schmaltz at Fairway, I felt like I HAD to buy it. Instagram opportunity, supporting Fairway’s stocking of slightly obscure Kosher items, etc. It’s also a fun thing to be holding when you run into an old flame-type person, which I did, seconds later. I shouted their name and then shouted “Schmaltz! I have schmaltz!”

Here she is! Carrot tsimmes with it’s schmaltzy kneidle centerpiece.

My kneidel used a finely diced onion, a mixture of cornmeal and all-purpose flour, salt and pepper (I did not use enough, so you should add more than you think you need), and a few tablespoons of schmaltz. Like pastry dough, I blended it with a fork until I had doughy crumbs, and then I added a small splash of cold water to bind it all. I shaped it into something that looked like a large sweet potato, placed it in the center of my cooked tsimmes. (The raw, sliced carrots had sat in some honey and sugar overnight, and then cooked, slowly, in their own liquid.) I covered the pot, and cooked it on a low flame, for about an hour. Amazingly, I now own really good pots – All-Clad – thank you to whoever bought it for us off our wedding registry – and it was just a delight cooking with them. Nothing catches, and things cook well. To be fair, I did burn my hair. I’m not sure when, but at some point, I smelled something weird. It was my hair! I snipped off the singed chunk afterwards. I don’t think you can tell – in fact, my now-shorter front layer, I feel, has kind of a Jessica Rabbit vibe, but it’s probably time for a trim anyway. Must remember to tie my hair up when cooking, though, and for so many reasons.

Dignified + True: Our Fish Head (mentioned later on)

But now there’s a tin, minus 4 tablespoons, of schmaltz in my fridge. What do I do with it? How long does it keep for? In my dreams, I would fry up some onions and potatoes in it, but like, when? If I was the right amount of Sexy Food Person, I would just have it on some toast! You know? I would just put it on everything. There is no room in my life for a fleishig snack such as that. I’ll keep thinking, though!

Full Trad Chicken: Apricots, Prunes, Oregano, Red Wine Vinegar, Lemons.

Anyway, here’s other stuff I made for Rosh Hashana: a fish head! I cooked a fatty salmon head, collar included, in a stock of water, carrots, leeks, thyme, butternut squash peels, and salt and pepper. Should have used a bay leaf, but I forgot. When it was done, and slightly cooled, I ate the collar, warm and fatty, while standing over the stove. I plated the head over sliced carrots. And weirdly, everyone at the table wanted to eat it. I continued in this full trad (FT) vein with my chicken, which I roasted, for a long time, with prunes, dried apricots, lemons, and red wine vinegar. And served that with a salad of greens, beets, fried leeks, and pomegranate seeds. At the core of all this FT food, there may have been some kind of over-compensating going on. I’d been thinking for weeks about Rosh Hashana – who I’d be spending it with, where I’d be spending it, what it would all look like. I don’t know why I got so neurotic about it. I’m glad I called my grandmother though. I never call enough, and I never make any of her recipes. We ended up talking for a little while and it was just like, the nicest conversation. It’s partly my own nonsense and partly that of my family, but there’s always that feeling of not being enough of this, or that. You know what I’m talking about. But we had a nice talk, and I felt really loved, and then I made her recipe, and I sent her a photo of it, and then I fed it to everyone. Why am I getting so sad writing this? It’s a Tuesday but it feels like 4pm on a Thursday. Happy New Year, everyone!

Challah: my no-knead one on the left, my sister-in-law’s classic white on the right.

Baking Bread (When Bread Is A Metaphor)

When I was about 14, I asked my mother to get me a pasta machine for my birthday. I never got a pasta machine, but that there is a little glimpse into my priorities as a teenager. I used to lie on my parents’ bed watching The Naked Chef, and pore over recipe books (strange to remember what a pre-internet hobby looked like) and, of course, cook and cook. I was a pretty good cook for my age, but for some reason, I had a lot of bread-related disasters. I don’t know – maybe I bought bad yeast, or maybe I was doing something dumb – but often, my yeast would not get foamy, or my bread would not rise, and end results were flat and tasted yeasty. It led me to believe bread baking was very hard, and I developed numerous yeast-related anxieties. After one particular incident — I was baking a babka and the yeast did not froth, but I kept going and then, of course, the dough didn’t rise, and for some reason, this did not discourage me, and I shaped the babka for it’s second rising and again, it did not rise, and instead of just throwing it out, (I was not a quitter! I hated swimming lessons and violin lessons but continued with both for YEARS. Still unpacking that in therapy etc.) I baked it and of course, it did not rise in the oven either. I served it to a table of people that night and of course, it was terrible and the whole thing was thrown out – after all those hours spent kneading, waiting and worrying. So after that incident, I stopped making anything with yeast.

Sneak peek of the finished product – my beautiful No-Knead loaf!

 

Years later, my three sisters and my mother bake bread all the time. My oldest sister especially – she bakes these gorgeous loaves of sourdough bread every week. Now, bread is, unfortunately, still recovering from years of demonizing in this country. That and mayonnaise, which will have a more difficult recovery, but nonetheless a recovery that I believe is warranted. Most Americans do not have the wonderful experience of walking into a nice bakery and buying themselves a beautiful loaf of bread. If they want bread, they buy sliced bread at the supermarket. And the bread they buy is full of preservatives, and lacking in nutrition. Bread does not have to be like that! I fondly recall my days in Jerusalem, where once or twice a week, I would walk to one of several local bakeries and purchase a loaf of sourdough, still warm from the oven. Bread! The stuff of life! A gift to mankind. But now I live in New York. For a while, every Friday, I would walk to Benz’s (one of the nicer food stores in Jewish Crown Heights – as opposed to Goyish Crown Heights, which is where I live) and purchase a loaf of maybe my favourite bread of all time – Tani’s bread – a moist and spongy loaf of sourdough. I’d bring it home for Shabbos and eat it slathered with miso-tahini (a real staple dip – originated by my sister). Nothing would go to waste. If there was any leftover, it would be toasted on Sunday or Monday and eaten with eggs or lox or peanut butter, or whatever else was around. Anyway, Tani stopped baking his bread, and a bread-shaped hole quickly appeared in my life. I started buying Zomick’s challah instead – which is yum but obviously, kind of junky and devoid of nutrition. I kept on thinking, I should just bake! I should just bake my own bread! My sisters continued to post their leavened success stories on Instagram, and I kept picturing all my bread disasters. What if I baked bread and it was terrible, and there wasn’t enough time to go buy a back-up loaf of challah for Shabbos? And then we had no bread for Shabbos! What if I bought a back-up loaf AND my bread did work out, but then we had all this extra bread that I’d have to throw out! I felt daunted by every version.

A piece of the bread! Really nice crumb on this.

Anyway, on Thursday, I bit the bullet. I read and re-read that Jim Lahey via Mark Bittman No Knead Bread recipe. My nerves relaxed a little with each revision, until I felt ready. The whole thing suddenly felt really low-risk, and I welcomed those feelings. I made the dough on Thursday evening, and let it rise until late Friday morning. So far, so good! I formed the loaf and let it rise for another few hours. Still good! I heated the pot (in this recipe, you cook the loaf in a lidded pot) and then put the loaf inside. And suddenly, my apartment was filled with the warm smell of fresh bread. It’s strange that out of all cooking smells, baking smells are the cleanest. They don’t linger, although if they did, it would be a beautiful gift. There are no smells like it in the world! It’s up there with coffee and cinnamon. And then, there was a loaf of bread in my kitchen. Beautifully risen, covered in a fun dusting of cornmeal and whole wheat flour, like you see in cool bread photos. We ate it that night with miso-tahini and it reminded me so much of Tani’s perfect sourdough. And then I ate some the next day with avocado (which I now eat). And then the next day with melty, crunchy peanut butter. And then later that day with some eggs. And then my ~~husband~~ ate the rest, toasted with butter, with a bowl of soup that night. And the loaf was gone!

And here’s some of my bread, toasted and topped with melty crunch peanut butter. Served with Grady’s Cold Brew – the best beverage of all time.

That recipe is so easy. No kneading at all. I subbed in a cup of whole wheat flour, to give some colour and nutrition. It just requires some planning, what with the 20 hours of rising. Yes, failures happen, sometimes! But we must remind ourselves not to be discouraged. I myself am very easily discouraged, in almost all aspects of life. We are hard on ourselves and sometimes, nothing feels as bad as spending time and energy on something that just doesn’t work out. Disappointment is debilitating! I’m getting teary now, but we just need to power through that stuff. We just cannot afford to get hung up there. I’m not talking about bread anymore. The bread is a metaphor.

And more of my bread, with some eggs, on Sunday morning.

Let’s Make Gnocchi! (with Crimini, Zucchini & Arugula)

When you have matters  pressing, and a whole to-do list of tasks, such as: writing wedding thank-you cards,  prepping Green Card application documents, and putting away the ever-growing pile of clothes and crap  that live atop my dresser – THAT, my friends, is when it’s time to make an elaborate dinner. You huff away in the kitchen, flour smeared on your face like some flustered child contestant in a cooking show about children cooking, creating a larger mess than necessary, and then finally, when it’s ready, you sit and eat, and then you go about cleaning up. And you get to feel tired and accomplished and very busy, all the while the tasks on aforementioned to-do list remaining.

Okay, anyway, point is: I made gnocchi. I’ve made it a few times before, but a few years go by between each gnocchiventure. I once made gnocchi at a singles’ event! Some person had assembled a group of 6 single men and 6 single ladies and we all cooked together and then ate. At the end of the night, we all had to submit a form, with a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ or ‘maybe’ written next to the name of each of the male attendees. I wrote ‘no’ next to all the names, except the name of the organizer. I wrote a ‘maybe’ next to his name, but I never heard from him. At first I was ‘hahah’ about it and then I was kind of 😦 about it but hey, who cares because I GOT MARRIED ANYWAY, and I also came away with gnocchi intel.

A not-superb photo of my dinner. It probably looks prettier on a plate, and with cheese, and in natural light.

Also, I make the same thing for dinner often (variations of macrowbowls, mostly, and then fancier stuff for my Shabbos dinners), and then on other nights, we order sushi, or we go out, or I have eggs on toast, or my husby cooks, and quite well, I might add, smugly. I rarely have the time or energy to come up with a whole new thing. I left work early last night, stopped by Brooklyn Fare, the most expensive supermarket in the world, although I do have a rewards card there, so for every $300 I spend, I get $10 credit, which gets me a packet of dried mango.

I used this Smitten Kitchen recipe (quelle surprise) as my guide, and ignored all the stuff about soup. Because it’s a carby dish, and because I was skimping on protein for the evening, I thought I might as well load it with veggies. I chose Crimini mushrooms and zucchini, and bought a beautiful box of wild arugula to toss through the whole thing.

I chose 3 largish Yukon Gold potatoes for my gnocchi. They were actually so delicious and sweet, just on their own. The most important thing is, you want to boil them with the skin on, and drain them ASAP, because you want to avoid excess water. The dryer, the better. I don’t have a potato ricer, so after I let them cool (I boiled and drained them, went  for a “run”, and continued upon my return), I just mashed them to the best of my ability with a fork. Mash, mash, mash. I then added a teaspoon of salt (I know, it seems like a lot), and an egg. Keep mixing until very smooth. And then, half a cup of flour. Mix, mix. Another half cup flour; keep mixing and you’ll see a dough forming. Add a little more – you want a dough that is very soft and kind of delicate to touch, but one that won’t stick to your hands, and can be kneaded – which you’ll then do, on a floured surface, for just a minute. Divide the dough into 4 pieces and roll each piece into a long rope. Cut it up to whatever size you want, and do that thing with the back of a fork where you get some ridges on your gnocchi. Then place them all on some parchment paper and put a pot of salted water on to boil.

While waiting for the water, I cooked up my veggies. I got some grapeseed oil nice and hot in a non-stick pan and tossed the mushrooms around, with a dash of salt and pepper, for a few minutes, and then transferred them to a bowl. Then I added my zucchini to some more hot oil, and cooked them until they were just done, adding a few rosemary bits and some tarragon leaves I had in the freezer. I added them to the mushrooms in the bowl. By then, the water was boiling, and I threw in about a 3rd of the gnocchi. Let them cook for about 2 or 3 minutes – when they rise to the top, they are ready! Remove them with a slotted spoon. I heated some olive oil, and I can’t believe this, but some butter also, in the pan I’d been using for the veggies, and I tossed the gnocchi in there, until a little golden, and THEN added it to the bowl with the mushrooms and zucchini. I gave it all a toss, and adjusted seasonings, and then tossed it with the arugula. I bowled them up, and added some grated asiago (on his) and an olive oil drizzle. It was all very impressive. We ate it on the couch and watched Breaking Bad, which is a show I have only just discovered. You can use potato flour instead of regular flour, if you want. If you wanted to add some protein, you could maybe throw a fried egg on top, or have it with some  fish. Or, come cooler months, you could skip the butter and eat the gnocchi with a delicious bolognese or something. I cannot fathom a heavy, hot, meat dish on a summer’s day such the one I find myself in today. Anyway, I only cooked about half the gnocchi I made. I froze the other half, raw and on the parchment paper. After it’s frozen, you can just throw them all in a bag together and not worry about it sticking. I can’t think of anything that makes me more wifed up than having a supply of homemade gnocchi in the freezer.

QUESTIONS????????

DDDDINNER: What to Make When You Want Easy

 

My mom is Chinese and she is an amazing cook (and baker).  We had beef (or chicken, or tofu, or whatever) chow mein on the regular, and these crispy, yet chewy, noodles held a steady role in my childhood.  She’d whip up a batch whenever we “didn’t know what we wanted to eat,” or when we were in a rush because I “had to go to the mall” and I thought this was just what you did when you were hungry and wanted a quick fix.

I had no idea how lucky I was.

Of course, there are tons of Chinese children who view this as NBD (and billions of people must count for something) but I am pretty sure none of my friend’s Russian immigrant parents were cooking with bok choy back then, and the same thing goes for the suburban Jersey households of my teenage years.

Right. Where am I going with this.

I think I just want to share this dish because it is the perfect comfort food, and the ease with which to prepare it forms an inverse relationship to how amazing it tastes, so everyone should be making this. Now.

Follow?

Plus, it especially easy when those noodles come pre-cooked. This is where I give a hearty shout-out to my friends (be my friends!) at Twin Marquis, distributors of noodley goods that are authentic and kosher and cheap, and without whom many mom-delicacies would become difficult to achieve. Seriously, go find their stuff. It’s in every little shop in Chinatown and you can buy a pack with some change.

There are also few rules, and I’ve used udon and lo mein as a base for many different dishes. But I fairly confident that what I made the other night was especially inspired, so here goes: Salami Lo Mein.

Seems obvious, but I didn’t make the connection until I found myself with 3/4 a salami log and a desire to eat fried rice but not to make it. Somehow noodles seemed easier.

Without further ado:

• 2 packages cooked lo mein noodles (or “Cooked Noodle” as TM calls them)
• 3/4 salami log, chopped into little chunks
• 0.5 lb fresh shiitake
• 1 bunch cilantro
• 1 bunch scallion (I found these amazing purple ones at the farmers’ market but any old green ones will do)
• a few cloves of garlic, minced
• hoisin sauce
• chili garlic sauce
• soy (regular and dark mushroom)
• veg or olive oil

1. Saute the salami chunks in a hot pan. these babies cook in their own grease.
2. Add white parts of scallion, garlic and shiitake, sauteing until mushrooms start to go limp. add oil if necessary.
3. Turn heat to low and add noodles (break apart with hands)
4. Add hoisin, chili garlic sauce and soy sauces to taste
5. Turn off heat and mix in green scallion bits and cilantro

You can do this is in under 30 minutes (20 if you practice).

FULL DISCLOSURE: I actually made these as the centerpiece of a very casual Shabbat lunch but there is a strong case for having this as a weeknight dinner. Or midnight snack…

Annals of Breakfast: DIY Muesli

Muesli! Granola! I’m not sure if the difference is purely semantic or not. In Australia, they call it muesli, and here it’s called granola. Muesli is… European? Healthier? I don’t know. Also, it does not matter. I will henceforth use the terms interchangeably. I used to make a big batch of granola every few weeks, and I’d store it in a big container in the fridge or freezer, because anything that makes my milk colder is a +++ (Pro tip: I put frozen blueberries in my cereal. I like blueberries but it also makes the milk extra cold.)

I barely make museli anymore, mostly because my schedule is such that I rarely have time for breakfast. Breakfast is a large amount of sub-par coffee, purchased roughly a block away from Penn Station, and nursed at my stupid desk. Perhaps some almonds from my desk, or some other desk snack (what are YOUR desk snacks? Tell us in the comments below! I like Trader Joe’s dried mango.) And on Therapy Wednesdays, sometimes a scone. But I miss breakfast, and muesli was something I really felt I’d truly perfected. What a waste.

My recipe is super easy and really easy to customize. The basic principle is that it should be healthy, simple, tasty, and have clusters. Clusters! Chew and crunch is very important. You want oats, something to give it a bit of sweet (apple juice, honey, maple syrup, or agave), whatever dried fruit you like (I stick to raisins and apricots) and whatever nuts or seeds you like (I generally stick with almonds, but may also add some coconut and sesame seeds) and maybe some other stuff (I used a lot of cinnamon and sometimes cardamom). Here’s the main bit: YOU WET THE OATS. I put them in a big mixing bowl, and I pour a BUNCH of boiling water over them. You want enough that all the oats are wet (they are pretty absorbent), but not too much that you have excess water. Pour a little, and then reassess, I saw. After the water, I add the cinnamon (I find, personally, that you need to use quite a bit to taste it at all, which is odd, because, in the words of my mother, “cinnamon is a BULLY.” Why so angry about it, Mum???) And then, I add the honey, or whatever sweet thing you’re using. If you’re using apple juice, use less boiling water. You don’t need a lot – the dried fruit is pretty sweet, and I think this sort of recipe is for people who don’t love things to be crazy sweet? Unclear.

Next, you want to toast your muesli. If you’re using raw almonds, add them here. Pistachios are fun too (particularly nice if you’re using maple syrup and cardamom). Pre-toasted almonds can be chopped and thrown in after the cooking. If you’re using sesame seeds, add them here too. Fattier nuts like pecans should be used raw – they will burn way too quickly if you’re cooking them with the oats. This is how the clusters happen; you are very slowly toasting the wet oats, and as the water evaporates, the oats kinda stick together. That’s the whole thing. Keep the oven low, and check to see that it’s not burning at the edges. Move it all around with a wooden spoon so that it toasts evenly. But this whole part might take an hour, possibly more. You want to just keep it low and be patient.

When you’re done, let it all cool on the baking tray. To get an idea of how much fruit and nuts to add, I put the chopped nuts and fruits (Pro tip: use scissors to cut the dried apricots. Sounds dumb, I know.) on top of the cooling oats. It just helps you eyeball your fruit/nuts/oats ratio. Mix it all up with your hands, and then put it in a container. I like to throw some raw oats in too – it kind of looks cool (Light brown! Dark brown!) and adds fun texture. It also bulks it up and makes it go much further, with no extra work.  And keep it in the fridge or freezer. It’ll keep for longer AND MAKE YOUR MILK COLDER, like I mentioned a thousand times at the beginning.

DDDDINNER: Carbs on Carbs on Ramps

 

It’s May and the farmers’ market is irresistible. Literally, there is no walking through it without emerging with some fancy leaves with names that sound like some band of cool girls (Mizuna, Sorrel, Purslane).

Last Wednesday was a stunner. I snuck a quick afternoon break and picked up some ramps (natch), asparagus (newly in season!), garlic chives and then some eggs and ricotta from an Amish man.   My mind was leading me towards a spring-y sort of pasta. (Yes, pasta. Again. Sorry I’m not sorry.)

I mean…

So I had an idea and I was moving forward. But then a wrench was thrown into my plans in the shape of a tiny sourdough loaf, straight from the holy land of San Francisco. Sensing an opportunity to make this meal even more carb-y (this is kosher-ish and delish-ish, not Paleo or South Beach friendly), I had a vision: If ramps are kinda like garlic, then you can kinda substitute one for the other and when life surprises you with a sourdough then this can only mean one thing: RAMP BREAD.

I know this looks delicious but it was ten times as delicious as it looks. 10x.

–       Ten or twelve ramps

–       A small sourdough

–       Garlic chives

–       Olive oil

–       Salt

1. Slice the bread into appetizer-sized pieces
2. Chop up the ramp bulbs and sauté in olive oil and salt for a few min.
3. Loosely chop the ramp leaves and chives and add to olive oil
4. Cook everything down for another couple minutes
5. Spread ramp/oil mixture on bread slices
6. Broil for five or so minutes, or until bread starts to brown and crisp
7. Voila! You just made the most delicious thing ever.

As for the rest of the stuff, I whipped up some pasta and it was so good even my sister ate it (she’s more of a…carnivore).

–       one lb asparagus (“just pulled from the ground yesterday! I heard)

–       small bunch of ramps

–       garlic chives

–       small tub of ricotta

–       parmesan cheese

–       lemons

–       olive oil

–       salt

–       pepper

–       half box of pasta

1. Shave the asparagus butts, slice into inch long pieces and par boil for one minute.
2. Make the pasta, reserve about a quarter cup of cooking liquid
3. Make ricotta mixture – stir together ricotta, grated parmesan cheese, glug of olive oil, lemon zest, lemon juice, salt and pepper
4. Chop up ramp bulbs and sauté in olive oil and salt (I’m nothing if not repetitive)
5. Add ramp leaves, garlic chives and melt down.
6. Add asparagus to ramp mixture.
7. Add vegetables and ricotta mixture to pasta
8. Give it a few good tosses
9. Serve! Eat!

Friday Night Bites: When You See Ramps

I hadn’t seen my roommate in a month.

“Want to do Friday night dinner together?”

“Yes!”

Ok, done. She kept suggesting things, not appreciating how controlling I am in the kitchen, so I relegated her to dessert responsibilities and told her I’d take care of the rest. (sorrynotsorry)

What to make?

That morning I hit up the spring-awakened farmers’ market with an open mind and a full wallet. Picked up some hardy parsnips and fancy mixed greens. Also grabbed a carrot and some tiny watermelon radishes. Side and salad sorted.

Behold. A few steps later I was accosted by ridiculously expensive ramps*.

For$15/lb. These things literally just grow out of the ground so sorry, but no. I averted my gaze and moved on.

But I didn’t move too much because a few stalls later I saw bunches of slightly less precious ramps so I got those. I had to.

Filled out the rest with a short session at Trader Joes and whipped up the following:

• fancy mixed greens with carrot, watermelon radish + meyer lemon/shallot vinaigrette

• roasted parsnips with miso/maple/soy – these babies take quite a while to roast but are pretty much set n’ forget

• roasted chicken with honey/lemon/garlic/RAMPS – kinda followed this recipe, using bone-on chicken breasts – http://www.milkandmode.com/2012/05/roast-chicken-with-ramps-lemon-and.html

SPRING IS FINALLY HERE. YOU CAN DO THIS.

AND GOOD SHABBOS.

*You may be living under a rock so I will explain that ramps, or Allium tricoccum, are basically the darling of the farmers’ market and are incredibly prized amongst the farmers’-market-going type.  They are also known as “wild leeks” or “wild garlic” and have a mild leeky-oniony taste that is pleasing to the palate; they taste like spring.  They are nice to grill, make into pesto, and generally toss into anything.  The ramp season is but brief and they are delicious but they can be ridiculously expensive. I, personally, suspect collusion amongst the vendors but that’s a different story and perhaps requires a BTF investigation (!).