Vegetables

By Linda Avery | JANUARY 04, 2012 | BOOK & PRODUCT REVIEWS

Editor’s note: We promised another cookbook review from Linda Avery to inspire your New Year cooking and here it is: Melissa Clark’s Cook This Now, along with a recipe for grilled lamb sausages paired with an arugula and celery root salad. 

Cook This Now

by Melissa Clark
photos by Andrew Scrivani

Facts: Hyperion, 416 pages, $29.99 (or Amazon at $19.79)
Photos: 21
Recipes: 137 (see Note)
Give To: cooks looking for seasonal inspiration

Cook This Now by Melissa Clark topped Epicurious’ Best Books of 2011 and Clark is all about seasonal cooking.

She sets the stage from the start with content pages listing recipes by month, when their main ingredients can be optimally obtained. Of course, there are plenty of crossovers and nothing will stop you from having November’s Carroty Mac and Cheese if you have a hankering in March.

Each recipe has an addendum, which I really like, dubbed “What Else?” This is where she notes suggestions for substitutions and other information such as buying Atlantic or Spanish mackerel rather than the larger king mackerel with a higher mercury content, or substituting a combination of a lemon and a tangerine for a similar flavor if you don’t happen to have Meyer lemons on hand.

Note: The dustcover of this book announces 120 recipes but that doesn’t include the 17 bonus recipes from Melissa Clark’s cookbook In the Kitchen with A Good Appetite

Also, for space considerations, we cut Ms. Clark’s engaging headnote down a bit. (Sorry, you’ll just have to buy the book to read every delicious word.)

Grilled Sausages with Celery Root Salad with Hazelnuts and Arugula

photo © by Andrew Scrivani

During my junior year abroad in Paris, in between gobbling warm croissants, raw milk cheeses, and countless macaroons, I ate an awful lot of celery root rémoulade.

I never bothered making celery root rémoulade when I was in Paris because it was ubiquitous and cheap. But once I got back to New York, if I wanted any more of the silky, savory salad, I’d have to tackle the homely root and whip some up myself.

And that’s the thing about celery root rémoulade. It starts with celery roots, which, with their hairy skins and muddy crevices, are never going to be the most inviting vegetable in the bin. But once those roots are peeled and grated, a quick toss with lemony, mustard-imbued mayonnaise will make the most of their inner beauty.

These days, my celery root salad of choice is a lighter take on a rémoulade. Instead a mayonnaise, I use a zippy mustard vinaigrette, and serve the salad on a bed of tangy arugula topped with hazelnuts for crunch. It’s marvelous as a first course on its own. Or to make it mealworthy, grill up your favorite sausages-lamb sausages are particularly good-and serve them alongside the salad, letting the mustard from the vinaigrette sauce the sausages and the sausage grease flavor the salad.

Serves 4

Ingredients
For the mustard vinaigrette
1 small garlic clove, finely chopped
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt plus 1 small pinch
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
2 teaspoons sherry vinegar
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
Freshly ground black pepper to taste

1 1/4 pounds sausages, whatever kind you like

For the salad
1 medium celery root, trimmed and peeled (see What Else? below)
5 cups arugula or other salad green, torn into bite-size pieces
1/4 cups finely chopped toasted hazelnuts

Method
Make the mustard vinaigrette
1. With a mortar and pestle or using the flat side of a knife, smash the garlic and tiny pinch of salt to make a paste. Whisk it in a small bowl with the mustard, vinegar, and remaining salt. Whisking constantly, slowly drizzle in the oil until fully incorporated. Season with pepper.

2. Preheat the broiler. Prick the sausages all over with a fork, then lay them on a baking sheet. Broil them about 3 inches from the heat until browned on both sides, 3 to 4 minutes per side (exactly how long will depend on your oven and the thickness of your sausage).

Make the salad
1. Fit a food processor with a large grating blade; grate the celery root. You can also use a box grater, though beware your knuckles. Transfer to a large bowl and add the salad greens and hazelnuts. Pour the vinaigrette over the salad and toss well. season with more salt, lemon juice, and/or olive oil if needed before serving.

What Else?

  • This recipe calls for a medium celery root, which is about the same size as a large navel orange (4 or 5 inches in diameter). If you can only get one of the giant, grapefruit-size roots, use about three-quarters of it. Or use it all; just make a little extra vinaigrette to make sure it’s well seasoned.
  • Trimming the celery root is probably the hardest and most annoying thing about this recipe. You can use a sharp vegetable peeler, but a sharp paring knife is more efficient.  Either way, be prepared to go deep. You will likely need to hack off about a quarter inch of the surface to get past the divots of dirt.
  • This goes really well with mashed Yukon Gold potatoes. To make them, try this: boil the potatoes (unpeeled) in plenty of water until very soft. Drain, let cool, then slip them off the skins. In the same pot you used to boil the potatoes, heat some milk or chicken stock seasoned with salt until simmering. Add the potatoes and a lump of butter (use as much as you can bear; my tolerance is high), and mash with a potato masher or fork over very low heat until as smooth as you like it. We like lumps. Sometimes I leave the skin on the potatoes. Serve all at once.

 

 

By Linda Avery | SEPTEMBER 12, 2011 | BOOK & PRODUCT REVIEWS

Editor’s note: Linda Avery, who has been reviewing cookbooks for Pen & Fork for almost two years, filed this review while on vacation. Please do not feel too sorry for her — she was in Umbria, Italy — not a bad place to test recipes from a new regional Italian cookbook.

Cucina Povera: Tuscan Peasant Cooking
by Pamela Sheldon Johns
photos by Andrea Wyner

Facts: Andrews McMeel Publishing, LLC,   pages, $21.99 (or Amazon at $14.50)
Photos: Over 140
Recipes: 69
Give to: Italian lovers, suitable for beginner cooks

I got my first look at Pamela Sheldon Johns’ Cucina Povera:Tuscan Peasant Cooking just days before leaving for Italy. We were renting a house in Todi, Umbria, and, as is my M.O., I was planning to cook at least a few meals with the locally available products. Granted, Cucina Povera is humble Tuscan cooking, but we were just a hop, skip and a jump as Umbria borders Tuscany on its northwestern border and Lazio on the southwestern border.

I had no intention of schlepping the book, so I decided to scan ten recipes to bring. I had to make sure each recipe was seasonally correct, e.g., my husband loves cinghiale (wild boar) but hunting season doesn’t begin until November; while boar it’s probably available, that gave me pause. Braised Pork Shanks had to be included as a nod to my Nonna who made us giggle as children when she announced she was making “Stinco di Maiale” (stinco actually translates to “shin”). And, since fig season begins in September in Umbria, Fichi allo Virio (stuffed figs) was a must.

I pored over each recipe for odd ingredients that I might bring, such as the 5 dried juniper berries called for in Coniglio con i Funghi (rabbit with mushrooms). Although I was intimately involved with this book, I knew that trattorias and osterias would be calling to me, so ultimately I reduced the number of recipes to five.

Cucina Povera, literally “poor kitchen”, opens with stories about good food in hard times. Her “introduction” runs to page 41 — and I was sorry when it ended. These are warm, interesting, heartfelt memories related by older friends of Sheldon Johns who perhaps lived through WWII when food was scarce.

One gentleman relates grabbing a handful of chestnut flour from a bag at a neighborhood grocery on his way to school: “the owner would look the other way… that bit of flour was my breakfast, so sweet and satisfying.” Chestnuts and corn were staples for bread, polenta and cakes. Salt was heavily taxed, so it was used sparingly to cure meat, make cheese… but not bread, and still today Tuscan bread is unsalted.

This book is summarized in a quote from Chef Carlo Cioni from Artimino, Tuscany: “Today’s choice of simple foods is not out of necessity as it was in the past. Now, in addition to considering economy, we are seeking quality and purity of flavor.” Sheldon Johns achieves this with her recipes, from Appetizers to Breads & Sweets, they are uncomplicated with most having about seven ingredients, many only five.

In the end I wasn’t able to try the coniglio, not because rabbits weren’t available, but because we were sharing the house with our friends, the Hares, and they refused to eat rabbit, but I did try the braised pork shanks. The long, slow cooking time (with only six ingredients including salt and pepper) was worth every minute as the meat practically fell from the bone; the ripe figs simply stuffed with walnuts and Gorgonzola were divine, but my gnudi (spinach and ricotta dumplings) fell apart — my bad – I’ve never gotten those to work for me.

I was introduced to farro, the nutty flavored Etruscan grain many years ago in zuppa di farro (soup) while in Lucca. It’s also known as spelt or emmer. Farro is debuting on more American menus and, thanks to Trader Joe’s, home cooks are embracing it (as spelt). I will admit taking a liberty with this recipe,  substituting prosciutto of Norcia (Umbria) for the salame, but this is a salad that allows you to do that. Try it and twist it as you wish!

Insalata di Farro (Farro Salad)

Serves 6

photo © by Andrea Wyner

Farro is an ancient strain of wheat with a high protein content and a nutty flavor. It can be found in natural foods and gourmet foods stores whole, cracked, or ground into flour. This dish can be served warm as a winter side dish, or chilled for a summer salad.

Ingredients
2 cups whole-grain farro
3 tablespoons plus 1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
4 green onions, including 1 inch of green parts, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 zucchini, diced
1 red bell pepper, seeded, deveined, and diced
2 cups chicken stock, heated
1 cup canned chickpeas, drained and rinsed
4 ounces spicy salame, diced
Grated zest and juice of 1/2 lemon
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
Romaine lettuce leaved for serving

Method
1. Soak the farro in water to cover for at least 1 hour or overnight.

2. In a large, heavy saucepan, heat the 3 tablespoons olive oil over medium-high heat. Add the green onions, garlic, zucchini, and bell pepper and sauté until softened, about 2 minutes.

3. Add the stock and bring to a boil. Drain the farro and add to the pan, cover and decrease the heat to a simmer. Cook for 30 to 40 minutes, or until the farro is tender and the stock has been absorbed. Stir in the chickpeas and salame. Cover and set aside to keep warm.

4. In a small bowl, whisk the lemon zest, lemon juice, and the remaining 1/4 cup olive oil together. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

5. Fluff the farro with a fork. Stir in the dressing. Serve warm or chilled, on lettuce leaves.

By Gwen Ashley Walters | JANUARY 24, 2010 | RECIPES

Is January the longest month or is it just me? Here I am again with another healthy post — a salad built upon a supergrain: Quinoa (KEEN-wha).

Quinoa isn’t technically a grain. It’s a seed. So perhaps we should call it “superseed,” but that just sounds silly.

Taken from a page in my first cookbook, The Great Ranch Cookbook, this salad originally featured wild rice.

Ironically, wild rice is a seed, too, but you cook wild rice and quinoa like grains, so that’s why they’re lumped into the grain category, culinary speaking.

If you’re a farmer or a scientist, knowing the difference is crucial. If you’re a cook, like me, the nomenclature of “grains” vs. “seeds” is a minor diversion from the real point. What does it taste like?

Hang on, I’ll get to that.

Quinoa is a curious bugger. Each raw seed is just barely bigger than a pin-head.

If you, say, drop the bag on the floor, you’ll spend the next eternity trying to pick them all up.

Or so I’ve heard.

When cooked, it sprouts a little yellow tail — and quadruples in size. A cup of raw quinoa makes just shy of four cups cooked.

It’s simultaneously soft and crunchy. Nutty and a little earthy. And a wide-open foodstuff just begging for creativity.

And a toothpick. They like to stick in your teeth.

 

 

This ancient, South American staple has received a lot of press lately. (It’s because it’s January, right? We’re all scrambling to distance ourselves from decadent December.)

Or maybe this nutrient powerhouse is getting attention because it only takes 15 minutes to cook.

Interested in the protein-packed, vitamin-and-mineral-rich details? Slide over here. Want to read more about the history of quinoa? Wiki it here.

Just come back for a really tasty salad (and a preview of another way to use quinoa.)

 

Even though it only takes 15 minutes to cook, I should share a couple things. First, it needs a good rinse. It’s covered in a bitter resin that helps protected it from birds while growing. Most of the bitter compound is removed during processing for packaging, but a good rinse removes any last traces.

Since the seeds are so tiny, I use a chinois set over a bowl and give it four or five good rinses, changing the water in between. (A chinois is a very fine mesh strainer. A few layers of cheesecloth or a coffee filter will work if your strainer is less fine.)

The shape of your pan matters, too. It’s best to use a pan that is wider than it is tall, otherwise the short 15 minute cooking time isn’t long enough to absorb all the water.

Cooking quinoa longer than 15 minutes makes it mushy. Some recipes call for cooking the quinoa in water for 1o minutes, then draining the water off and steaming it.

That’s too much trouble for me, especially since using a wide pan seems to do the trick.

After 15 minutes of cooking, turn off the heat and let it sit for about 5 minutes. Then lift the lid and fluff the quinoa with a fork. (If you lean in close, you’ll get a nice steam facial, too. I always like double-duty tasks.)

This salad is best served room temperature, so toss the quinoa until it cools, or spread it out on a baking sheet to cool (if you don’t mind washing another pan). That will help dry it out, too.

I’ve chosen Cara Cara oranges because I like the pretty salmon color, and they’re in season now. I’m using both dried cranberries and dried, tart cherries.

You can substitute other dried fruits: apricot, dates, pineapple, or even raisins (golden, please…the others look like bugs to me. Of course, what am I worried about? This “grain” has a tail!)

Like most composed salads, this tastes better after it sits for an hour, giving the flavors a chance to get acquainted.

Remember that 1 cup of quinoa turns into 4 cups cooked. I use 3 cups for this salad, saving the last cup for another recipe that I’ll share later this week. And it won’t be quite as healthy as this one.

It’s almost February, after all.

Red Quinoa Salad with Oranges, Cranberries and Pecans

Serves 4 to 6

Ingredients
1 cup red quinoa (or white)
2 cups water
1/2 teaspoon salt

2 medium oranges
1/4 cup dried cranberries
1/4 cup dried tart cherries
3 scallions, sliced thinly on bias
1/2 cup toasted, chopped pecans

3 tablespoons of orange juice*
1 tablespoon champagne vinegar
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper

Method
1. Rinse the quinoa in several changes of water. Drain.

2. Place the quinoa in a wide saucepan and pour in 2 cups of water. Stir in 1/2 teaspoon salt.

3. Bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce heat to low and cover pan. Cook for 15 minutes. Turn off the heat and let sit for 5 minutes.  Fluff with a fork, or to cool quickly, spread the quinoa on a baking sheet. (If quinoa seems too wet, line baking sheet with paper towels before spreading out to cool.)

While the quinoa is cooking, prepare the other ingredients.

4. Zest one of the oranges and set aside (for the vinaigrette). Peel the oranges and cut into segments (supreme). Save the orange pulp. Cut each segment in half and set aside.

5. Squeeze the orange pulps into a small saucepan. Place the dried fruit in the pan with the orange pulp juice and stir. Bring the juice just to a boil and then turn off the heat. Stir the fruit occasionally while the berries steep.

6. Whisk 3 tablespoons of orange juice with the reserved zest, and the vinegar. Whisk in the oil and season with salt and pepper to taste.

7. Place the cooled quinoa in a large bowl. Top with the reserved orange segments, steeped berries, scallions and pecans. Toss until combined. Taste and season with salt and pepper.

*The juice from the segmented oranges is enough to steep the dried fruit, but not enough to make the vinaigrette, so you’ll need an additional 3 tablespoons of OJ for the vinaigrette.

By Gwen Ashley Walters | NOVEMBER 20, 2009 | RECIPES

It’s not even Thanksgiving and here I am wrapping up a Christmas present for you. It’s called Christmas because it’s red and green, and bejeweled with seasonal treats like oranges, walnuts and pomegranates.

The fact that’s it’s healthy is purely by accident, I swear. I just thought about the flavors of the season. That’s why there’s port-soaked cranberries, juicy orange bits, crunchy jicama and bright kale. OK, jicama might not be the first holiday ingredient you think of, but it’s a wonderful addition, trust me.

I wanted another crunchy element, so I toasted some walnuts, another a holiday treat — or am I the only one who got oranges and walnuts in her Christmas stocking? (Neither were as treasured as the book of LifeSavers.)

A traditional chopped salad is sometimes presented in rows of ingredients, with the dressing served on the side.

But, being the control freak that I am, I like to reign over how much dressing goes on the salad (do you really want to leave this crucial detail up to your guests? What if they don’t have a clue about how much is enough? Or they’re too polite to use as much as they should, thinking less is more?)

To avoid all that pressure, I toss it myself. And I sprinkle a few pomegranate seeds on top to make it extra holiday-ish. I love this salad. Even if it is good for me.

Christmas Kale Chopped Salad

How to describe the fresh, vibrant taste of this salad? Fantastic! The fresh ground cardamom is a pleasant, exotic surprise. I love the crunchy textures, the tart-but-sweet cranberries and pomegranate seeds. In a word? Christmasy.

Serves 6

Ingredients
1/2 cup dried cranberries
1/4 cup ruby port (or apple juice)

For the dressing
Zest from 2 medium navel oranges
Juice from those 2 oranges after the sections have been removed
1-1/2 tablespoons champagne vinegar
2 tablespoons chopped fresh mint
1 tablespoon agave nectar or honey
3/4 teaspoon ground cardamom
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

For the salad
1 bunch Tuscan kale, washed, trimmed and chopped
Orange sections left over from dressing
1 cup of 1/2-inch cubed jicama
1/2 cup toasted, chopped walnuts
1/3 cup pomegranate seeds

Method
1. Stir the cranberries and port together in a small saucepan over medium-high heat. Bring just to a boil and turn off the heat. Steep the cranberries while you make the dressing.

2. After zesting and removing the sections from the oranges, squeeze the juice from the pulp into a small bowl. Whisk in the vinegar, mint, agave nectar (or honey), cardamom, salt and pepper. Whisk in the olive oil. Set aside while you prepare the salad.

3. Place the chopped kale in a large salad bowl. Cut the orange sections into bite size pieces and add to the kale. Add the jicama and walnuts. Drain the steeped cranberries and add them to the salad bowl. Drizzle with the dressing and toss. Divide salad between six salad plates. Sprinkle with pomegranate seeds and serve.

By Gwen Ashley Walters | SEPTEMBER 07, 2009 | RECIPES

Cuke-Salad1

Bumping into a friendly foodie at my local farmers market, I notice her hands full of little yellow orbs. I thought they were mini-squashes but she says, no, they’re lemon cucumbers — and she loves to eat them out of hand, sprinkled with a little salt.

I didn’t pick one up then, but a few weeks later, I’m cruising through the Park City farmers market and spot the sunny little cukes again.

“Oh you don’t want those,” a helpful? woman says. “They’re bitter.” So natch, I buy one.

Let’s review: my trusted foodie friend says they’re delicious and I pass them up, yet a complete (nosy) stranger says phooey, and I buy. Go figure.

Ingredients

Nosy woman did say that I should buy the pale, delicate tasting Armenian cucumber, which later I discovered is also called a snake melon, because botanically it is a melon (C. flexuosus) yet it tastes like a cucumber. Perhaps I should call this salad Two Cukes & a Melon?

Armed with three different farmers market cucumbers (or two plus a melon that tastes like a cucumber) and in need of a salad to bring to a friend’s house for dinner, I naturally concluded a cucumber salad was in order.

Lemon-Cucumber

After cutting open the lemon cucumber, I was surprised to find mostly seeds and just a thin strip of flesh. Hard, crunchy flesh. Slightly bitter (sorry, nosy woman) with a hint of lemon.

I wanted to remove the seeds from the English and the Armenian cucumber anyway, so I scooped out the seeds from the lemon cucumber, too.

Armenian Cuke

I like the look of cucumbers slivers over circles or half moons. Notice I’m cutting on the bias (angled cut) to make longer slivers, just like I did with the green beans here.

OnionPop in a little red onion for color and maybe even a red chile pepper for heat. Toss with rice wine vinegar, a little sugar, salt and pepper.

Oh, and torn basil. I like lots of basil in this salad, but I’ve only put a modest amount in the ingredient list. Add more if you’re basil-crazy like me.

Cuke-Salad2

Farmers Market Three Cucumber Salad

This refreshing salad isn’t very sweet, unlike most cucumber salads, so if you prefer more sweetness, by all means, add an additional tablespoon, or two, of sugar. I prefer to taste the cucumber and basil, and too much sugar interferes with the clean taste of cucumbers. Removing the seeds helps cut any bitterness the cukes may have, plus it makes for a more attractive salad.

Serves 4

Ingredients
1/2 of an English cucumber
1/2 of an Armenian cucumber
1 lemon cucumber
1/4 of a small red onion
1/2 small red chile pepper (like a red jalapeno)
1/4 cup rice wine vinegar
2 tablespoons sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
4 medium fresh basil leaves

Method
1. Cut all three cucumbers in half, lengthwise. Scoop out the seeds. Cut, at an angle, into 1/4-inch strips. Place in a large bowl or in a Ziplock bag.

2. Slice the red onion and red chile pepper into 1/8-inch slices and place in the blow with the cucumbers.

3. Whisk together the vinegar, sugar, salt and pepper and pour over the cucumbers. Toss a few times and place in the refrigerator for at least an hour, tossing occasionally. (It’s actually easier to marinate them in a Ziplock, because you just grab the bag and turn it once in a while.)

4. Drain the cucumbers when you are ready to serve, and place them in a serving bowl. Tear the basil into small pieces and scatter on top. Toss once more. Taste and add more salt or pepper if desired.

By Gwen Ashley Walters | JUNE 03, 2009 | RECIPES

Maybe “trend” isn’t the correct term. Perhaps resurgence is a better description for the proliferation of butter lettuce on restaurant menus (like the spanking new Kent Rathbun’s Blue Plate Kitchen and his “butter” wedge with Green Goddess dressing (another resurgence).

Trend – resurgence – either way I’m seeing butter lettuce salads everywhere. In glossy food magazines and in new cookbooks published in 2009, (Family-Style Meals at the Hali’imaile General Store by Beverly Gannon, Joan Namkoong and Laurie Smith) for example, where Chef Gannon uses butter lettuce cups to hold hoisin and plum-sauced chicken and shiitakes.

Recently in Dallas, I spotted this beauty at Whole Foods. I was taken aback by the loveliness of the red-tinged lettuce. It was the first time I had noticed red butter lettuce.

Red-Butter-Lettuce

So I took it to my brother’s house, where it became the basis of a chicken piccata salad (that I passed off as healthy to my sister-in-law, even though I used half a jar of ghee first frying capers, then the chicken, followed closely by half a stick of cold butter to finish the sauce — I’m going to Hades for that, but I digress.)

Red butter lettuce is in the same lactuca sativa family as other butterhead lettuces such as Bibb (small, bright green leaves) and Boston (larger, lighter green leaves). Butterhead lettuces are popular because they’re tender and mild tasting; the antitheses of say, dandelion greens.

Peel away the outer layers (good for sandwiches) and you’ll find the core, or “heart,” to be perfectly shaped little cups, great for using as lettuce wraps — edible containers for all kinds of composed salads (chicken, tuna, rice, etc.)

Cleaned-Lettuce

Or, tear the lettuce into bite-size pieces and use it as a base for a fraudulent “healthy” salad, as I did.

Chicken Piccata Salad

Game plan is to make the vinaigrette first. Next, prep the salad and leave it chilling in the refrigerator while you make the chicken and sauce. I bet you can make this whole dish in less than 45 minutes.

Serves 4

Ingredients
For the salad
2 tablespoons lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 small clove garlic, minced
Pinch of sugar
Salt and pepper
2-1/2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 head butter lettuce, washed, dried and torn into bite-size pieces
1/4 pound cooked green beans
1/4 pound cooked broccoli florets
1 cup grape or cherry tomatoes, halved

For the chicken
1 pound skinless, boneless chicken breast, pounded thin (between 1/4 and 1/2-inch thick)
Salt and pepper
2 tablespoons flour (or cornstarch)
Ghee* or Canola or olive oil for frying
1 tablespoon minced shallots
1 tablespoon capers, drained
Zest of 1 lemon
4 tablespoons lemon juice
5 tablespoons cold butter

Method
Make the vinaigrette
1. Whisk together the lemon juice, mustard, garlic, pinch of sugar and pinch of salt and pepper. Whisk in olive oil. Taste with a piece of lettuce and add more lemon juice or olive oil or sugar, salt and pepper to your liking. Set aside.

2. Toss the lettuce with the cooked green beans, broccoli and tomatoes. Place the bowl in the refrigerator to chill while you make the chicken.

Make the chicken
1. Season the pounded chicken breasts with salt and pepper and lightly dust with flour or cornstarch. Heat enough oil in a skillet to generously cover the bottom but not deeper than 1/8-inch. Heat the oil over medium-high heat to just below the smoking point. Fry the chicken until golden brown, about 4-5 minutes, on one side, then turn and fry until done, another 3-4 minutes. Remove from pan and keep warm. Drain all but 1 tablespoon of oil.

2. Return the skillet to the stove and turn the heat to medium-high. Stir in the shallots and capers and saute just for a minute. Stir in the lemon juice and cook until it reduces by half. Remove pan from heat and swirl in cold butter, 1 tablespoon at a time, letting each one melt before adding the next. Stir in the lemon zest and season to taste with salt and pepper.

Assemble the salad
1. Toss the salad with the vinaigrette. Divide the salad onto four plates. Slice the chicken, at an angle into 1/2-inch thick slices. Top the salads with the chicken, dividing evenly. Spoon the sauce over the chicken and serve.

Chicken-Picatta-Salad

*Find jars of ghee (which is clarified butter) in the refrigerated section of Whole Foods, or in specialty stores that carry Indian ingredients.

(NOTE: that piece of toast in the picture is from a loaf called “seeduction” from Whole Foods. I call it “seederator.” It’s unbelievably delicious.

By Gwen Ashley Walters | MAY 12, 2009 | RECIPES

Don’t you just love the name baby fennel?  It sounds much more beguiling than just fennel.

Baby vegetables are either cultivated to be just babies or, including this baby fennel, are harvested before they reach maturity, so they are miniature versions of the fully matured vegetable. Generally, that means they’re not only more tender, but also more delicate in flavor.

Fennel is sometimes mistakenly labeled anise, which is a completely different plant from fennel.

If you have fennel seeds in a spice jar in your pantry, those also are not from the same species that produces this lovely, off-white bulb. Confusing, I know.

Fennel seeds come from the common fennel plant and the bulbous vegetable is called Florence fennel, or finocchio in Italian.

Florence fennel can be eaten raw or it can be cooked. Raw, it has a crisp crunch and a delicate, understated flavor of licorice, much milder than the fennel seed.

Roasting the fennel, like you would butternut squash, sweetens the fennel, making it silky tender, too.

To use the fennel in a salad, cut the bulb from the green stalks. The feathery fronds on the stalks, which resemble dill in appearance, can be used as a garnish.

I like to shave the fennel using a mandolin, and the one in the picture above is my favorite mandolin. It’s a Japanese Benriner.

Once cut, the fennel will oxidize (turn brown), so shave it just before you plan to serve it to retain the whitish color.

Tossing it with a delicate acid, like orange juice, will slow down the oxidization.

We’re making an orange and fennel salad here, so after shaving the bulb into delicate ribbons, peel the pith from an orange, and separate the segments of the orange.

Squeeze the pulp of the orange after you’ve removed the sections over the fennel and toss.

To finish the salad, toss the shaved fennel and orange segments together, and then snip pieces of the fennel fronds over the top. Drizzle with a high quality extra virgin olive oil and season with sea salt and pepper before serving.

If you are so inclined (and don’t live with an olive hater) adding a few chopped black olives would really enhance this salad, adding a salty element to the sweet taste of the orange and fennel.

I especially like the wrinkly, dry-cured black olives. But, alas, I do live with an olive hater, so no olives for this salad.

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