Vegetables

By Gwen Ashley Walters | DECEMBER 13, 2009 | HOW TO...

Do not adjust the color on your monitor. That cauliflower is indeed, that yellow. It’s called a “cheddar cauliflower.”

You’d think I wouldn’t care for cauliflower since it’s in the same family as Brussels sprouts. But so is kale, and I love kale.

I must like cauliflower. I keep writing about it.

I especially like this orangey-yellow cheddar cauliflower. Not because it tastes dramatically different than white cauliflower — it doesn’t. I like it because it’s colorful.

I decided to steam it, puree it, and pair it with sun-dried tomatoes and Parmesan. Cauliflower is bland by itself, so it needs strong flavors to perk it up.

I prefer steaming over boiling when making vegetable purees. Why?

The resulting puree is less watery. Boiled vegetables take on a lot more water than what’s naturally present in the vegetable. Steamed vegetables don’t.

A food processor won’t puree the mixture as smooth as a blender, but you’d need a lot more liquid than what I’m using here to get a blender (even a Vita-Mix) to puree this mixture.

If this was The French Laundry, we’d be pressing this puree through a tamis for an ultra-smooth puree.

Fortunately, it’s just Chef Gwen’s kitchen, and we’re not going to that much trouble. The food processor will do a good enough job.

Minced sun-dried tomatoes with fresh parsley and put a dollop on top. You could mix it right in, but it looks prettier as a garnish. Just because we’re not a top restaurant doesn’t mean we don’t want our food to look good, right?

Either way, it tastes way better than plain old steamed cauliflower. In fact, it tastes just like a fancy-schmancy restaurant side dish.

Pureed Cauliflower with Sun-Dried Tomatoes & Parmesan

Serves 4

Ingredients
1 head cauliflower
1/4 cup chicken or vegetable stock
1/4 cup grated Parmesan
2 or 3 tablespoons heavy cream
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1/4 cup sun-dried tomatoes, drained and minced
2 tablespoons chopped parsley

Method
1. Cut the cauliflower into florets. Steam until tender, about 15-20 minutes.

2. Place florets in a food processor. Pour in stock and puree. Scrape down sides.

3. Sprinkle with Parmesan, drizzle with cream and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Puree again until smooth, stopping to scrape down the sides of the bowl once or twice.

4. Return puree to a pan and gently reheat over low heat until hot.

5. Taste and add more salt or pepper if desired. Portion onto four plates and garnish with sun-dried tomatoes and parsley.

 

 

By Gwen Ashley Walters | OCTOBER 18, 2009 | HOW TO...

Calypso-Beans2

I could have titled this post simply: “How to Cook Beans” because, with a few exceptions, there isn’t much difference from one dried bean to the next in terms of cooking.

You soak (or not — hence the exceptions), simmer, and voila! Cooked beans.

What else is simmered along with the beans is up to you…and the bean.

Calypso beans are either black and white, or red and white. Don’t get too attached to the striking contrast, because it fades dramatically with cooking.

 

Calypso-Beans

Calypso beans hold their shape if you don’t cook them to death. That said, I’ve found they need about two hours, even though I’ve see cooking instructions calling for as little as an hour. It probably depends on how fresh they are (dried beans have a “freshness” but it’s difficult to gauge, because there isn’t a “freshness” date on the package.)

They taste similar to the Italian white cannellini bean, only a little nutty, if a bean can be nutty.

(Technically a bean can be nutty. Take the peanut, for example. The peanut isn’t really a nut at all, it’s a bean — or legume if we want to get fancy with our nomenclature.)

Bean-Soak

Regardless of what we call it, the dried beans can be soaked overnight, or softened with the quick soak method:

  • Cover beans with 1-inch of water
  • Bring to a boil, then turn the heat off
  • Cover and soak 1-hour
  • Rinse in cool water, drain, and proceed with recipe

While the beans are soaking, prep all your other ingredients. I’m using an onion and garlic, and of course, I need some kind of fat to saute those aromatics in — bacon fat — which hopefully doesn’t come as a big shock to anyone.

Bacon

 

It’s a well documented fact that bacon and beans are the Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers of the culinary world (you think I just make this stuff up, don’t you?)

I chop the bacon (or in this case,  thin-sliced, cured and smoked pork loin — Irish Bacon (Rashers) — from a local pork producer) and slowly render out the fat over medium heat.

You can reserve the fried bits to sprinkle on top of your finished dish, if you don’t eat them all waiting for the beans to cook — not that you would do that.

 

Strain-Beans

Since these Calypso beans taste like cannellini beans, I add Italian Herb Mix from Penzey’s Spice Co.

A quick two hours later, the beans are tender and ready for salt and pepper.

Italian-Herbs

 

I don’t season my beans until the end. Most chefs don’t, but I read somewhere that salting the beans in the beginning won’t make the beans tough. Old habits die hard, so I still wait until the end to season the beans.

Cooked-Calypso-Beans

Taste the beans after 1-1/2 hours. That might be all they need. If some are soft but some are still too toothy, cook another half hour. Now you can season your beans with salt and pepper. You can also throw in some fresh herbs, if you’re so inclined.

And that’s it.

But now what do you do? You can serve a bowl of beans for dinner, maybe with a slice of hot buttered cornbread, or served them as a side.

You can cool them and use in salads. These beans go particularly well with canned tuna.

If you save the cooking liquid, you can even turn them into a soup by pureeing the beans with just enough of the cooking liquid to get the consistency of a creamy soup (but without the cream, of course, unless you’re so inclined.)

We have no hard and fast rules around here.

Bowl-of-Calypso2

 

Calypso Beans

Serves 6

Ingredients
1 pound dried red or black Calypso beans
2 tablespoons bacon fat
1 medium yellow onion, diced
2 teaspoons minced garlic (about 2 medium)
7 cups cold water
2 teaspoons dried Italian herb mix
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves (optional)

 

Method
1. Soak the beans overnight, or use the quick soak method outlined above.

2. Drain the beans and rinse with cool water. Set aside.

3. Heat the bacon fat* in a large sauce pat or small stock pot over medium heat. Stir in the onions and garlic and stir, cooking just until the onions and garlic are fragrant, about 2 minutes.

4. Add the beans to the pan, plus 7 cups of cold water. Turn the heat to high and bring the beans to a boil. Reduce heat to a simmer.

5. Stir in dried herbs. Simmer, uncovered, until beans are tender, but not mushy, about 1-1/2 to 2 hours.

6. Remove from heat and season with salt and pepper. (Don’t be stingy with the salt unless your doctor told you to, in which case, ignore me.) Stir in fresh thyme if using.

*If you don’t have a jar of bacon grease stashed in the fridge, take 2 or 3 slices of bacon and chop into very small pieces. Cook the bacon, slowly, over medium heat until crispy. Spoon out the bacon bits and you should have enough fat to saute the onions and garlic.

 

 

 

By Gwen Ashley Walters | AUGUST 11, 2009 | RECIPES

I better just say this straight out: my recipe for week three of Summer Fest 2009 isn’t a 5 minute, less-than-3 ingredients recipe. But if you’ve been coming here a while, you know that’s generally not my style.

You’re going to have to use your knife skills. And dirty up a couple pots.

But if you love to cook and love incredibly explosive flavors, this might be the recipe for you.

illustration by Matt Armendariz of Mattbites.com

illustration by Matt Armendariz of Mattbites.com

The Summer Fest cross-pollination blogging project’s third week, created by gardening maven Margaret Roach of Away To Garden, is officially underway with a greens and beans theme.

Earlier this summer I wrote about how to cook Swiss chard and collard greens. Now I’m tackling beans — green beans.

But before I get to my post, here’s what the co-creators of Summer Fest have cooked up:

I borrowed a soy glaze from a recipe in my book The Cool Mountain Cookbook: A Gourmet Guide to Winter Retreats. It really belongs to a sea bass, but I’m sure the bass won’t mind sharing it with the beans.

The result is Sesame Soy Glazed Green Beans.

Sesame-Soy-Green-Beans

The first step involves parcooking the beans — an easy step that’s useful for many green bean recipes, not just this one.

Just drop the beans in a pot of boiling water and cook for 2 to 4 minutes, depending upon how crunchy (less time) or tender (more time) you want your final beans to be. After the brief boil, shock the beans by dropping them into a bowl of ice water. 

Now, you may be asking yourself. Why didn’t Chef Gwen say “blanch the beans?”

True, blanching also means dropping food into a pot of boiling water but unlike parcooking,  blanching is a quick in-and-out step.

The point of blanching is to keep the bright color (especially for green vegetables), or loosen the skin for easy peeling (tomatoes, peaches) or soften the food, like a cabbage leaf destined for stuffing, for example.

With parcooking, we want to move the cooking a little further along than a quick blanch. With either technique — blanching or parcooking — shocking the food with ice water is key to stop the cooking.

Cut-Demo-1

After parcooking and shocking the beans for this recipe, the next step is slicing the beans at an angle to create bite size pieces with attractive points. In the picture above, you can see the knife is positioned on a whole bean at a severe angle. The more angled your knife, the pointier the ends will be. (Is pointier a word?) You get the point.

The next step is to make the soy glaze. It doesn’t take long so having all the ingredients measured beforehand is key. Get a small saucepan very hot and pour in the soy sauce. Boy, will it ever sizzle! Then quickly stir in some honey and rice wine vinegar, followed by a slurry.

A slurry is a fancy name for a starch (in this case cornstarch but it could also be arrowroot) and cold water. The slurry, when added to boiling liquid, will thicken the liquid quicker than you can pour a glass of wine.

Glaze

Once the glaze is made (it takes less than 5 minutes) the next step is to briefly saute the beans with some flavor enhancers. I use peanut oil for Asian inspired sautes because I like the flavor. It also has a high smoking point, compared to say, olive oil, so it’s a good oil for serious frying, although we’re not using extreme heat in this dish.

Garlic, fresh grated ginger and red chile pepper flakes are the flavoring ingredients for this recipe. The brief saute only takes a couple minutes, and then the glaze is added and cooked just until it’s heated through.

Beans-Cooking

Toss in some sliced red bell pepper for color just before the glaze is added. While the beans are sauteing, put a small skillet on another burner and toast some sesame seeds. You can buy sesame seeds already toasted, but it’s really easy and only takes a few minutes to toast them yourself.

Just put a dry skillet over medium-high heat and give the pan a shake every once in a while. You can tell they’re done when they turn a shade darker and start to smell nutty. Seriously, that’s it. Takes maybe 5 minutes.

Sesame-Soy-Green-Beans3

It probably takes 30 minutes from start (parcooking) to finish (glazing), so that’s not too bad, is it?

And the flavor? Well, it’s a party for your mouth — a little spicy, a little salty, a little sweet and tangy, and richly flavored with soy. Fantastic.

I’d love to hear what you think about this recipe, and if you’ve got a greens or beans recipe, leave a link. So drop a comment, and then head over to the other Summer Fest blogs and do the same. You’ll be amazed, reading through the comments, at what other greens and beans treasures await you.

Soy Sesame Green Beans

Serves 6

Ingredients
For the beans
1 pound green beans
2 teaspoons peanut (or vegetable oil)
1/2  to 1 teaspoon minced garlic
1/2 teaspoon freshly grated ginger
1/4 teaspoon red chile pepper flakes
1 cup sliced red bell pepper (about 1/2 of a large pepper)
1 tablespoon toasted sesame seeds*

For the glaze
1/4 cup soy sauce
2 tablespoons honey
2 tablespoons rice wine vinegar
1 tablespoon cornstarch whisked together with 1 tablespoon cold water (slurry)

Method
Make the beans
1. Bring a large pot of water to a boil and set up a large bowl of ice water. Drop the beans into the boiling water. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 2 to 4 minutes. Remove beans with tongs or a slotted spoon and plunge into the ice water.

2. Remove the beans from the ice water after a few minutes, when the beans are cool. Pat dry. Slice the beans, at an angle, into 2-inch, bite-size pieces.

Make the glaze
1. Heat a small skillet over medium-high heat for several minutes. Pour in soy sauce (it will sizzle furiously). Stir in honey and vinegar. Stir in slurry. The mixture should quickly thicken, probably in less than a minute. Remove from heat and set aside.

2. Heat the peanut oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the green beans and stir to coat with the oil. Stir in the garlic, ginger and pepper flakes. Saute for another minute or two. Stir in the glaze, tossing to coat and cook just until heated through. Remove from heat.

3. Place the beans on a serving platter and sprinkle with the toasted sesame seeds.

* To toast sesame seeds, heat a small, dry skillet over medium-high heat. Stir in the sesame seeds. Shake the pan occasionally to prevent burning the seeds. The seeds are toasted when they turn a shade darker and smell nutty. It should take about 5 minutes, give or take.

By Gwen Ashley Walters | JULY 12, 2009 | HOW TO...

Market-Greens

Meandering through the Portland Farmers Market, I spotted this stack of beautiful collard greens. The bug holes on the right only endeared it to me more. I mean, if the bugs won’t eat it, should I?

Growing up in West Texas, my mother’s garden overflowed with mustard greens, a bitter, curly-leafed green that I wasn’t particularly fond of. Years later, I tasted my first collard greens and I liked the flavor (less bitter) and texture (smoother) much better.

You don’t have to cook them Southern-style (to death, with ham or bacon fat and onions), but cooked this way they do go hand-in-hand with hot cornbread (or is it corn bread?)

Chiffonade

I cut a “V” just like I did here on Swiss chard, and roll the leaves into a cigar and then cut them into strips, just like I blabbed about here with basil, only with greens, I cut thick, 1-inch ribbons.

Collard greens are a staple in many southern  — especially soul food — restaurants, yet they generally don’t cut the tough stems out before cooking. For me, it’s paramount. I hate tough stems swimming in a pile of earthy greens, and even worse, I hate stringy stems — which is what happens when the greens are cooked long enough to soften them.

Leeks

Now we need a little onion for flavor. I used a leek for no other reason than I had one. Feel free to use whatever onion suits your fancy: white, yellow, red, scallions, whatever.

Of course you need some fat to saute the leeks and greens in. I keep a jar of bacon grease in the fridge for just such purposes.  Who doesn’t love bacon grease? (Don’t answer that if you are a vegetarian, please.)

Bacon-Grease

You could fry up some bacon strips, using the rendered fat for sauteing, and then crumble the bacon as a garnish for the greens. Heck, most folks just leave the bacon in the pot, simmering it right along with the greens. Me? I prefer adding it as a “crunch” topping.

Unlike Swiss chard and spinach, collard greens need a bit more cooking reach tenderness. And in the South, “a bit more” means hours. You don’t have to cook them that long, although most southern cooks I know cook them f-0-r-e-v-e-r. Food scientist and “culinary sleuth” Shirley Corriher (CookWise, BakeWise) says that extended cooking isn’t kind to the flavor of collard greens and other members of the Brassica family (broccoli, cabbage, turnips, etc.) And she’s from the South!

Cooking-Greens

Simmering collards in liquid is crucial for a silky texture.You can use water, or for more flavor, chicken stock or broth.

I’d show you a final picture of the cooked greens but I didn’t take one. Why? Because they’re ugly. Dull, army-green doesn’t make for a pretty picture, although I have to say that this picture honors the humble green as best as can be expected.

Even if cooked collard greens don’t win any beauty contests, they certainly do win as a delicious side dish, perfectly suited for any southern meal from pork chops to fried catfish. Don’t forget the slice of hot, buttered cornbread. Or is it corn bread?

Southern-Style Collard Greens

Serves 2, maybe 3 *

1 bunch collard greens
1 leek (or 1 cup chopped onion)
1 tablespoon bacon fat
4 cups water or low-sodium chicken broth
Pinch of sugar
2 to 3 tablespoons cider vinegar
1/2 (or more) teaspoon of hot pepper sauce
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Cut the stems out of each green leaf in a “V.” Roll the leaves into a cigar and cut into thick ribbons, about 1-inch thick. Dunk the greens in a water bath, drain, and spin dry in a salad spinner.

Cut the top off the leek. Cut the remaining part of the leek in half, lengthwise and rinse under cold running water, fanning the leek layers to remove any trapped dirt. Pat dry. Cut each half crosswise into 1/4-inch half-moons.

Melt the bacon fat in a large saucepan over medium-high heat. Add the leeks and saute until just tender, about 3 to 4 minutes. Add the greens, tossing occasionally to wilt, about 3 to 4 minutes.

Pour in water or chicken broth and stir in pinch of sugar (the greens won’t be completely submerged). Bring to a boil. Reduce heat to low and cover. Simmer until tender, about 40 minutes.

Stir in the vinegar and hot sauce. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Add more vinegar or hot sauce to your personal tastes. To serve, you can either portion out the greens in individual ramekins to include some of the pot likker (cooking liquid) or you can drain them and put them directly on the serving plate.

*If you plan to double this recipe, you don’t need to double all the ingredients, just the collard greens. For the remaining ingredients, use 1-1/2 times the amount instead of 2 times the amount.

By Gwen Ashley Walters | JUNE 25, 2009 | RECIPES

I bet you thought, by the title, that this post was going to be about fried rice. It is, sort of. Rice will be fried, but not in the way that a traditional, Asian fried rice dish is.

Yes, we’re starting with cooked rice, an egg, of course, and other veggies, but that’s where the similarities end. Today, we’re cooking up rice fritters.

With three cups of leftover rice from the Bamboo Rice post, I thought about making a traditional fried rice dish, but then I stumbled upon Gina DePalma’s charming post on spinach fritters on Serious Eats and I wondered if I could replace the flour with rice, but lots of it.

Yep. It works.

Spinach-Bunch

Gina talks about the virtues of mature, leafy spinach (namely, it tastes like spinach) vs. the bagged (but convenient) baby spinach.

I’m using mature spinach for this recipe, even if it involves a little work, like removing the stems and a couple – or three -  dunks in a water bath to remove the grit.

For our fritters, we need to lightly cook the spinach and squeeze out most of the water so the fritters aren’t soggy. You could use frozen spinach to save a step — just need to thaw and really squeeze out all the water.

Spinach-Cooked

Isn’t it amazing how much spinach shrinks when you add a little heat? Besides the spinach, cooked rice and egg, anything else you want to throw into the mix is totally up to you.

If I were you, I’d include some sort of, what we in the food biz call, “aromatics.” Not sure why we call them aromatics – more appropriately they should be called taste-o-matics – I’m referring to garlic and onions. They do smell good, but flavor is their main purpose.

I used scallions. I also threw in a chopped jalapeno because I like to spice things up a bit, and well, everything tastes better with a jalapeno – not to mention the generous dose of  vitamin C, given the jalapeno’s size.

Spinach-Fritter-Ingredients

The rice, spinach and other goodies go into a large bowl for mixing. I added just a smidgen (don’t you like that word?) of flour to help bind the mixture together, but when I say smidgen, I mean it. One tablespoon of flour for three whole cups of rice qualifies as a smidgen.

Be gentle with the mixing part so that the rice doesn’t become gummy. This is especially important if you are using a naturally sticky cooked rice like the bamboo rice I’m using.

Once it’s all gently mixed, it’s time to portion it out. Remember the ice cream scoop tip I gave you? (#7 on my top ten list of kitchen tools). Now is the time to pull it out of the drawer. I have five or six (maybe nine) different sizes. The #12 scoop is about 1/3 a cup.

(Scoops are sometimes labeled by size, imprinted oh-so-small on the inside of the scoop, on the metal lever that pushes the ice cream out of the scoop. The number refers to the number of scoops in a quart of ice cream.)

Fritter-Scoops

You can prepare the fritters up to this point and just refrigerate for a day if you’d like. If you plan to make these in advance, make sure that all the ingredients are cold before you mix them together to avoid that nasty food borne illness plague that results from foods not properly chilled.

Once they’re fried, you can also reheat them if you have any leftovers. I like to reheat them in a toaster oven at 325°F. for 12-15 minutes. You can use the microwave but say goodbye to that nice little crunchy crust if you do.

Fritters-Frying

Spinach & Rice Fritters

Makes 7 (3-inch) fritters

Ingredients
8 to 10 ounces fresh spinach, trimmed, washed and dried
1 tablespoon olive oil
3 cups cooked rice
1 cup sliced scallions (white and light green parts)
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1 jalapeno, finely chopped, remove seeds for less heat (optional ingredient)
1 tablespoon flour
1 large egg, beaten
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
Olive oil for frying

Method
1. Wilt spinach in 1 tablespoon of olive oil in a skillet over medium heat, about 3 or 4 minutes, turning with tongs as it wilts. (My, how it shrinks!) Scrape out into a bowl to cool. When cool enough to handle, squeeze out as much water as possible (Use paper towels if you’re so inclined). Roughly chop the spinach and place in a large bowl.

2. Stir in the rice, scallions, cheese,  and jalapeno (if using) into the bowl with the spinach. Sprinkle with the flour and fold in the egg, salt and pepper. Scoop into 1/3 cup portions (#12 ice cream scoop works well). Flatten to about 3/4-inch thick.

3. Heat enough oil in a skillet over medium-high heat to cover the bottom by about 1/8-inch. When sizzling hot, add fritters (work in batches so that you don’t overcrowd the pan). Fry until deep golden brown, about 5  to 6 minutes. Turn and brown other side, another 4 to 5 minutes. Remove to drain on paper towels.

By Gwen Ashley Walters | MAY 19, 2009 | BOOK & PRODUCT REVIEWS

I’m standing in line at the grocery store and the cashier starts ringing up my basket. He has to look up every single code on the produce, save bananas.

He’s young.

When he picks up the Swiss chard, he says, “what’s this?”

I tell him it’s spinach on steroids. A light bulb goes off in his head.

And then he asks me what I do with it. Cook it, I say. Oh, he says, followed by how?

Now, he’s maybe 16, so I know he’s not going to go home and cook a batch of Swiss chard, but I tell him anyway, just in case. I mean, I’d like to think that the young ones are interested in cooking.

The first thing I do is trim the stalks from the stems. You can cook the stems, if you like, but they need more cooking than the leaves, and I don’t like the texture, so I discard them (to the compost pile if you have one!)

Cutting the stem is like cutting a “V” from the leaf. Once the stems are removed, I fold the leaves in half, lengthwise and roll them up. Then I just chop them a few times.

Next, place them in a bowl and cover with cold water to rinse off any grit.

If the chard seems particularly dirty, give them another bath.  Swish around the chard with your hand and then let them rest, so any dirt will sink to the bottom of the bowl. Gently grab a few handfuls at a time and place them in a salad spinner basket.

What? You don’t have one? Why not? It was going to be No. 11 on my top ten list of best kitchen gadgets, but then it wouldn’t have been a top ten list.

I like the OXO salad spinner, with the hand pump on top. Let’s you get out a bit of aggression. They have two sizes, but the larger one is the most useful. I’ve given it as a gift to some of my favorite people.

I don’t like the brands that have a pull string to spin the basket. Maybe I’m too rough with it, but I usually end up ripping the darn string out. The pump style is much more durable for people like me.

Back to the chard, the reason it needs to be dry is because we’re going to saute it in a skillet with a little olive oil, maybe even a little garlic, but I’m getting ahead of myself here.

If it’s not dry, then the water droplets will hit the oil and make it splatter. Messy.

Now, this pan looks ridiculously full. It is. And that’s only about 2/3′s of the batch. Pour about a tablespoon (or teaspoon if you’re using a non stick pan and watching your girlish figure) into a pan and heat over medium heat. Add as much Swiss chard as you can fit, and it’s OK if it mounds up higher than a kite.

Let it cook a couple minutes, then with tongs, gently start to turn the chard, pulling the leaves on the bottom up to the top. Soon, right before your very eyes, it will shrink. (And darken to an very unattractive shade of green, which is why I usually hide it underneath the rest of the meal.) As the chard wilts, add any extra that didn’t fit in the pan.

Once it is all wilted, you can add some minced garlic and cook that in with the chard for flavor. Minced shallots, too, if you’re feeling frisky.

It only takes about 7 to 8 minutes to fully cook. You know it’s done when you taste it and it’s tender but not mushy. Season with salt and pepper and call it a day.

I debated long and hard about whether or not to include this last picture. Cooked, chard isn’t really all that attractive (hence, the hiding underneath, say beautiful sweet potatoes, or a saffron scented rice pilaf, for example).

 

Swiss chard is in season now and it’s so good for you – full of those antioxidants the experts say we need (vitamins A, C and E) – plus a ton of vitamin K (good for blood clotting and bruise-healing) and a bunch of B vitamins to boot.

Despite the health benefits, I think it really tastes good.

Like spinach, on steroids, only better.

By Gwen Ashley Walters | MAY 05, 2009 | RECIPES

You remember I’m not a big fan of cauliflower, right?  Well, I need to amend that because now have another recipe that makes me think it’s not so bad after all.

Yesterday, I wrote about Maharajah curry powder, one of four global spice blends worth trying.

Today, I’m sharing a recipe for roasted cauliflower using that highly aromatic (and colorful) spice. And by recipe, you do know that I mean, I’ll just talk you through the process, right?

The first thing you do, after turning the oven on at 400 degrees, is cut the florets off the head of the cauliflower, cutting the larger ones into bite size pieces.

Wash and pat dry with paper towels. We’ll be tossing with oil later, so the florets need to be dry. Oh, this head of cauliflower is two pounds, kind of a medium-ish size.

I also cut 1/2 of a large, yellow onion into lengthwise wedges, because, you know, what’s roasted cauliflower without onions?

Whisk together a scant tablespoon of the Maharajah curry powder with 1/2 teaspoon of salt, 1/2 teaspoon (or, 1 full teaspoon if you dare) of Sriracha (or other hot sauce), and 3 tablespoons of olive oil.

Pour the mixture over the cauliflower and onions and give it a good toss, coating the whole caboodle. (Caboodle is such a fun word. Say it with me: kuh-BOOD-l. If that doesn’t put a grin on your face, I don’t know what will.)

Spread the cauliflower and onions on a baking sheet in a single layer. Place in the oven and roast until the cauliflower starts to caramelize and the onions are tender, about 20 to 25 minutes.

The only thing left to do now is to taste it and adjust for salt and pepper. I like to give it a good sprinkle of freshly ground white pepper, and finish it with some chopped fresh mint. Mint and curry go together like peanut butter and jelly, in an exotic sort of way. You could use cilantro if you have it in addition to, or instead of the mint.

Roasted curried cauliflower is really delicious as a side dish to say, grilled pork or grilled halibut. Or you could use it to top a salad dressed with a lemon vinaigrette. Or, you could even puree it, add a little vegetable stock, a splash of cream and call it a soup.

I’m getting hungry just thinking about it. I bought the Maharajah curry powder at Penzey’s but you can find it at other specialty spice sites like The Spice House and Whole Spice, too.

Roasted Curried Cauliflower on Foodista

By Gwen Ashley Walters | MAY 01, 2009 | RECIPES

Leave it to me to blab about a vegetable that’s out of season. Or is it just coming into season? Beets, apparently, are not in season in northern California, at least according to Alice Waters’ Chez Panisse Vegetables cookbook. I bet they’re not in season in Kalamazoo, Michigan at the moment, either. Or, are they? Anyone?

All I know is that I can still get beets at our farmers’ markets, so technically, they’re still in season, at least in Arizona.

(I should know what’s in season. I write for Edible Phoenix for cryin’ out loud, and it clearly says in the Spring 2009 issue, on page 12, that beets are in season. Along with asparagus, fava beans and a dozen or so other vegetables.)

I love beets. Adore them. Especially pickled beets, like the candy sweet ones from Cotton Country Jams. But my hubby won’t eat pickled beets.

Roasted beets, now that’s a different story. He laps up roasted beets like a puppy with a bowl full of chow mix.

Here’s how you roast beets: heat the oven to 375 degrees while you snip off the stalks, leaving about an inch above the beet (save the greens if you like braised beet greens).

Scrub-a-dub-dub the beets to get rid of any grit. Dry them. Put them on a sheet of heavy duty aluminum foil, drizzle with a good extra virgin olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper.

Wrap those babies up tight and place in the oven until they’re tender, but not mushy, about an hour if they’re on the large size.

Roasting beets is super simple, but there’s a deep, dark secret that you need to know about.

They’re only easy to peel when they’re burning hot, straight out of the oven. Oh, you can wait five minutes, maybe, but if they cool too much, the skin doesn’t want to part from the flesh.

I thought chilling them would create a little pocket, you know, between the skin and the flesh, like it does with roasted sweet potatoes.

Nope. Has the opposite effect, the coldness acts like glue.

So, here’s what you need to do.

Get some plastic, disposable medical gloves. Grit your teeth, and dive in.

It won’t take long, and it’s worth it. All the beet flesh stays with the beet and the skins slip right off (with a little help from a paring knife).


Roasted Beets on Foodista

By Gwen Ashley Walters | APRIL 30, 2009 | RECIPES

I want to love braised leeks, really I do. The French adore their les poireaux, which sound deliciously romantic in French, don’t they? But then again, everything sounds sexy in French; especially if you say it slowly, as they do in the south of France.

Cervelles au beurre noir.

Calf’s brains in brown butter. See?

The truth is, I’m in love with the idea of braised leeks, more than the actual leeks themselves.

Some of my favorite cookbooks include recipes for braised leeks: Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Alice Waters’s Chez Panisse Vegetables, and Susan Spicer’s Crescent City Cooking.

So why can’t I fall over backwards for a dish of braised leeks? Or at least swoon a little at the thought.

Maybe I would change my mind if I just spent more time with them.  So I did.

Here we go.

Simply braised leeks.

(Note: if you plan to serve the leeks as a side dish, count on 2 leeks per person.)

Cut off the root end and the dark green tops, keeping the light green portion. Cut in half and place under running water, fanning the layers to remove any grit trapped between the layers (or gnats, which I found a few in this batch –I love organic produce. You only need to worry when bugs don’t want to eat your dinner) .

Place the leeks, cut side down, in a shallow sauce pan that’s either buttered or swiped with olive oil. (You need some fat here. I wouldn’t blink, or tattle, if you rubbed it with bacon fat.)

Pour in enough dry white wine to come up quarter of the way up the leeks. Using the smallest pan possible is key — only if you want enough wine left over to drink.

Pour in enough chicken or vegetable stock to come up just over half way of the leeks. Sprinkle with fresh ground pepper.

Turn the heat to medium-high and bring the liquid to a boil. Reduce the heat to simmer, and cover with a lid, partially askew to allow some steam to escape.

Cook until the leeks are tender and the tip of a knife easily pierces through the leek, about 30-40 minutes, turning the leeks twice: once after 10 minutes and then again after another 10 minutes.

Now, for the best part — a buttered, bread crumb topping.

Time to get that broiler heating. Place the leeks, in a single layer, in a shallow, oven-proof baking dish.

For each portion of leeks, mix two tablespoons of whole wheat bread crumbs (nutty flavor and ultimately crunchier texture) with one tablespoon of grated Parmigiano-Reggiano and toss with a tablespoon of melted butter.

Season with salt and pepper. You could also mix in some chopped fresh herbs if you have any.

Sprinkle the crumb topping over the leeks and place the leeks underneath the broiler until the crumb topping is dark brown and crispy, maybe a couple, three minutes, depending upon how close the heat source is to the leeks.

And there you have it. Tender, braised leeks, with a delicate, sweet, faintly onion flavor. Quite lovely.

After a late afternoon rendezvous, I get the allure: the tactile pleasure of cutting and cleaning leeks; the flittering, wispy aroma, happy to escape the sliver of a crack between the pan and lid. I can see myself making a whole roasting pan full. But still…

after all that, why do I still think of leeks as a seasoning and not a side dish?

Is something wrong with me because of my lack of overt passion for leeks?

Where did this indifference come from? Blame it on early American settlers who weren’t in the least bit smitten with the leek.

Neither were early American cookbook authors, writing a couple hundred years after the Pilgrims landed, portraying leeks as a mere flavoring ingredient — nothing special and certainly not worthy of serving alone.

When it comes to leeks, I rationalize I’m simply all-American.

By Gwen Ashley Walters | APRIL 14, 2009 | RECIPES

Once upon a time, there was a cozy little cafe called Dragonfly. It was owned by a lovely young woman, who poured her heart and soul into the cafe, not to mention all of her time.

Dragonfly became a huge success, garnering awards left and right by the local media, and that just made the owner work harder and harder. Eventually, she sold the cafe because it was consuming her life — and her health.

A friend emailed me the other day to say that she had dined at Dragonfly (under the new owners) and it was no longer the same. I already knew that because a little over a year ago, I reviewed the cafe for the local paper. We lamented about the demise of the signature salad – roasted butternut squash — and so, in tribute, I roasted some butternut squash this weekend, recreating the lovely flavors of this fantastic salad. Almost.

I didn’t make a cognac vinaigrette to go over the salad, but instead made a maple sherry vinaigrette. Below is a method for roasting butternut squash. Once roasted, you can serve it warm, or let it cool and top a salad with it. Dragonfly Cafe’s signature salad, in addition to the roasted butternut squash and red onions, had toasted walnuts, bacon, goat cheese and port soaked raisins atop baby greens. Just lovely.

Roasted Butternut Squash

Ingredients
2 pounds butternut squash, peeled and cut into 3/4-inch cubes
1 red onion, peeled and cut into similar size cubes
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoon maple syrup
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Method
1. Heat the oven to 400°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or a silpat.

2. Toss the squash and red onions with the oil and maple syrup. Season with salt and pepper. Roast for 20 to 25 minutes, stirring once, until squash is browned and the onion is tender.

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