redacted recipes

Daring Bakers: The Perfect Party Cake

Have you been noticing a preponderance of coconut raspberry layer cakes as you surf around the web today? Well, that's because it that time of the month again. No not that time, it's Daring Bakers time!

This month's challenge is hosted by Morven of Food Art and Random Thoughts. As hostess Morven got to  select the challenge recipe and chose Dorie Greenspan's Perfect Party Cake-- a lovely four-layer cake recipe originally given to Dorie by Nick Malgieri. The two recipes read slightly differently, though the ingredients and basic methods are the same. Oddly, I found the Malgieri version easier to follow than Dorie's.

As always, the ever growing group of Daring Bakers communicated their triumphs and failures throughout the month before the big reveal. A number of us, myself included, had issues with the cake layers, finding that they didn't rise as much as we'd hoped for. We did discover late in the month that there had been a typo in the recipe and that it called for an extra quarter cup of flour, but I'd already made the cake and I'm afraid I was not driven enough to try it again.

The low-rise issue resulted in layers that were only about an inch and a half high, which meant I was going to have a mighty short cake, even after splitting and filling them. Because I am a firm believer in tall majestic layer cakes I immediately baked a third layer, using a half recipe, deciding I would have six layers! 

The buttercream recipe was quite easy to make. In fact it seemed awfully familiar and I realized that it's essentially the same one we used for the December challenge. Though we were encouraged to vary the filling, and even to substitute whipped cream for the outside layer of buttercream, I elected to make the recipe exactly as written with four small exceptions: I added the extra layer, splitting each one for a total of six, as noted; I decided to alternate the raspberry and butter cream fillings, rather than spreading the butter cream over the raspberry between each layer (no bleeding of raspberry into the beautiful white frosting and a lighter-tasting cake); I increased the buter cream recipe by half, to allow for the extra layer; and I chose not to cover the entire cake with coconut, opting instead for a dab of raspberry preserves on the top and some frou-frous around the edge.

Interested in the Daring Bakers group? You can read more about us here and you can find links to all of us here if you haven't seen enough Perfect Party Cakes. Click the link for the Dorie Greenspan version of the recipe, or check out Nick Malgieri's version.

The Mini Pie Revolution Event #3 Round Up!

The Mini Pie Revolution asked you to send in single-serving sized pot pies and boy are we glad we asked! Please go and check out the plethora of pleasingly palatable pot piesI

Lamb Briouats

Briouat means "small letter" in Arabic and are little folded filo pastries filled with various kinds of meat for a savory dish or with ground nuts and honey for a baklava-like dessert. Last night I was casting about for something to make for dinner and remembered that I had ground lamb in the freezer, as well as a box of filo dough. A little googling found several recipes, which I then ruthlessly modified to suit the state of my pantry. None of the recipes called for raisins, but I thought they'd provide a nice tagine-like flavor.

I served these with some homemade harrisa, and a quick tzatziki, as well as a simple green salad. In theory there should have been enough for four people, and perhaps there would have been if we weren't so greedy. It was very hard to stop eating them.

Lamb Briouats
makes about 12 - 15 filo triangles

1/2 pound lean ground lamb
1 onion, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 teaspoon cumin
1/2 teaspoon ginger
1 teaspoon paprika
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 cup raisins, plumped in hot water
1/4 cup pine nuts, toasted
2 tablespoons fresh mint, chopped
1 small can diced tomato
salt and papper, to taste

Combine the lamb, onion, garlic, cumin, ginger, paprika, cinnamon, raisins (drained), pine nuts, mint and tomatoes in a frying pan and cook over a medium heat, uncovered and stirring occasionally for about 6 minutes, or until the moisture has completely evaporated and the lamb has cooked.Drain off and discard the fat, if needed.

Preheat the oven to 375F.

Cut 3 inch wide strips of filo. Brush 1 strip with melted butter and place another one on top. Brush with the butter and place a heaped teaspoon of filling at one end. Fold one corner over in a triangle, and then continue turning over the triangle to the end of the filo strip (just as in folding a flag). Trim any extra filo off with a knife. Repeat with the remaining filo and filling.

Place on a greased baking sheet and bake for about 15 - 20 minutes, until golden. Serve immediately, warm or at room temperature.

The Urban Winery: Bridge Vineyards Tasting Room

During our recent Studiofeast experience Ed, one of the helpers at the event, tipped us off about the Bridge Vineyards Tasting Room, a fairly new place located at 20 Broadway, Williamsburg, down by the East River and the Williamsburg bridge. Bridge Vineyards specialises in wines from New York State, especially Long Island, and the tasting room offers a choice of "flights" or individual tastings, plus a small but scrumptious selection of savoury "food pairings".  On Saturday we decided this would be a lovely way to start our evening so we strolled over there and took a seat at the bar in the small but stylish establishment.

We elected to try a flight, rather than a "tasting" (which at this place is actually a single glass of wine, of your own choice), opting for the Reserve Flight. From left to right we were served a Lenz 2002 Old Vines Cabernet Sauvignon,  a Bridge 2001 Reserve Merlot and a Wiemer 2006 Dry Riesling. We're not generally big fans of white wine but we were particularly taken with the Riesling, which was bright and fresh with hints of citrus and apple yet which - in common with many of the better New World Rieslings - avoided excessive, cloying sweetness. Greg, the co-owner, was so pleased by this that he poured us a taste of another white-- a Lenz 2006 Gewurtztraminer which had a palate-pleasing pétillance and a fruity lightness that blew away dark memories of the often excessively heavy and sugary Gerwurtzes one tended to find in less enlightened times.

The reds were nice too; both having what proved to be a rather characteristic "stony" undertone to them. The Cabernet Sauvignon in particular had a somewhat unorthodox balance of flavour notes: along with some fairly typical touches of cherry and redcurrant I thought I detected the slightest hint of something almost medicinal... but in a good way!

To accompany the flight we ordered the crostini which were beautifully composed - both visually and in choice of ingredients. The tomato and pesto (left) was a welcome preview of warm weather (local hydroponically grown tomatoes make a difference in winter!) while the Gorgonzola with rosemary honey on cranberry pecan bread (middle) made our mouths sing. The roasted pepper, capers and pine nuts sitting on creamy Hudson Valley fromage blanc (right) was perhaps our favorite, pairing beautifully with all three wines.

Our second flight (best of New York reds) consisted of (from left to right again) a Milbrook 2006 Pinot Noir, a Broadfields 2002 Estate Merlot and a Sheldrake 2005 Estate Cabernet Franc. The Pinot Noir was a shock: it was a rosé but quite unlike any we'd ever tried. I seriously doubt we'd have identified it as such in a blind tasting. It had almost none of the traditional rosé sweetness and fruitiness; it was rather more full-bodied than a typical rosé and the taste was subtle, stony (again) and even somewhat earthy. A very interesting and unusual wine. The Cabernet Franc was a pleasant enough example of the breed with hints of herbs and grass over the baseline of understated fruit, but it was the Merlot which really blew us away. This was a big, full wine with plenty of dark fruit and just enough spice and earthiness to make a really well-balanced mouthful. We bought a bottle to go. 

The cheeses were all local to New York State with the sheep and cow's milk camenbert coming from Chatham Sheepherders Company, and the Ouray (earthy and buttery and made of unpasteurized cows milk) and Eden (firm nutty washed-rind cows milk) both coming from Sprout Creek Farm.

As we prepared to leave the cook gave us a bowl of roasted rosemary potatoes with a citrus aioli for dipping. Suffice to say that we shall be ordering one of those next time we visit, which will be soon. The Bridge Urban Winery is a very welcome addition to our neighbourhood.

Mini Pie Revolution Event #3: Fish Pie

Fish pie is a traditional British dish, usually made with white fish (cod, haddock or halibut). It's oven baked in a pie dish but not usually made with the shortcrust or puff pastry toppings-- instead it's topped with mashed potatoes before baking.

Not being a traditionalist, and really wanting to make a fish pot pie for current Mini Pie Revolution event, I decided to put the potatoes in the filling and top it with a savory pie crust. Of course I could have just made Stargazey Pie, which does traditionally have a crust on top, but I really wasn't up to dealing with the little fish heads looking back at me.

I used a Jamie Oliver recipe, which he describes as "homely, comforting and moreish," adding that it's a "cracking recipe." We agree. The end result is surprisingly delicate in flavor, and very filling. Serve it with a green salad and a glass of dry crisp white wine and you're all set.

Fantastic Fish Pot Pie
adapted from a Jamie Oliver recipe
serves 6

6 potatoes, diced into 1-inch squares
2 eggs
1 onion, finely chopped
1 carrot, halved and finely chopped
Extra-virgin olive oil
1 cup heavy cream
2 good handfuls grated mature Cheddar or Parmesan
1 lemon, juiced
1 1/2 heaping teaspoons English mustard
1 large handful flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped
1 pound haddock or fresh cod fillet, skin removed, pin-boned and sliced into strips
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees F.

Put the potatoes into salted boiling water and bring back to a boil. Carefully add the eggs to the pan and cook for about 8 minutes until hard boiled, by which time the potatoes should be just cooked. Drain the potatoes and set aside. Remove the eggs, cool under cold water, then peel and quarter them. Set aside.

In a separate pan slowly fry the onion and carrot in a little olive oil for about 5 minutes, then add the heavy cream, and bring just to a boil. Remove from the heat and add the cheese, lemon juice, mustard, and parsley.

Put the potatoes, fish and eggs into a bowl and mix them gently, seasoning with salt and pepper. Divide the mixture into 6 small baking dishes or ramekins, pouring an equal amount of the creamy sauce over each.

Quickly make the pie crust:

1 cup flour
2 tsp baking powder
½ tsp ground tarragon
2 tbsp butter, cut into small pieces
1/8 teaspoon salt
1/3 cup milk

In the bowl of a food processor, dump the flour, baking powder, ground tarragon and salt. Pulse a few times to combine. Drop in the butter and process until incorporated into the flour. Add the milk slowly, while processing, until it comes together. Remove from the processor, form into a ball and roll out. Use a large ring (make sure it's the right size for your baking dishes) to cut out 6 circles. Place a circle on top of each pot pie and cut an x in the center. Brush with a little beaten egg yolk thinned with water.

Place the pot pies on a baking sheet and then into the oven for about 25 - 30 minutes.

Festa Italiana: a sort-of Italian tart

I don't know how Italian this little tart is, given that there is no recipe other than the one in my head, but I can promise you that the ingredients are authentic. I had some left-over pastry dough, some Italian goat cheese, and some pancetta all needing to be used up, and you what they say about neccessity, don't you?
I figure I won't be kicked out when I arrive with half a dozen of these in hand for Festa Italiana, hosted by Finding La Dolce Vita.

On The Spot Italian Tart
serves 2

2 small onions, sliced into rings
2 oz. pancetta, sliced into strips
fresh flat leaf parsley, as much as you like
crumbly goat cheese, as much as you like
olive oil
A half recipe of your favorite savory pastry dough
an egg yolk mixed with a little water, for brushing the pastry

Preheat the oven to 350.

On low heat saute the onion rings in a little olive oil until they start to look golden. Then push them to one side of the pan and add the pancetta, frying until they just start to crisp up. Remove from the heat.

Roll the pastry dough into a circle and then place it on a lightly oiled baking sheet. Spoon the onions onto the pastry, leaving  1 to 1 1/2 inches around the outside. Arrange the pancetta over the onions. Sprinkle with the parsley and goat cheese. Carefully fold the border over the filling, overlapping itself slightly as needed. Brush the dough with egg yolk mixture.

Bake for 20 - 25 minutes until the crust is nicely browned. Serve hot or at room temperature with a salad on the side.

Sugar High Friday #41: Sweet Gifts

I first tasted a praline when I was about six or seven years old. It was Christmas morning and my father had just unwrapped a long flat box given to him by my grandmother. Inside, nestled in wax paper, were pralines. My Dad seemed disproportionately thrilled and so of course my sister and I were immediately curious.

Us: What's that, Daddy?

Dad: These are mine.

Us: But what are they?

Grandmother: Those are pralines, girls. Would you like a taste?

Dad: glare

Us: Please?!

And so, because he could hardly say no, he carefully broke the smallest praline in half and handed each of us a piece. We loved them of course, though we did not get so much as another crumb that Christmas. It seemed that my Dad had a real passion for them and nobody but my grandmother ever made them-- and then only for special occasions and only as long as she had local pecans stored away.

After we moved away from California my grandmother would mail a box of pralines to my Dad each Christmas until she got too infirm to keep it up. He remained pretty stingy about sharing them, so naturally I learned to make them myself once I was out on my own, and I sometimes make a batch for my Dad if I happen to be visiting him over the Christmas holidays. In fact the last time I made a batch for him he still didn't want to share and I had to promise to make another batch before leaving, just so that my own children could have a taste. The man likes his pralines. I suggested to my mother that she make them for him from time to time, but she says she never got the hang of it and never will. (This is clearly nonsense, as she is an excellent cook, but I'm sure she has her reasons.)

American Pralines are a very different animal from those in other countries. Originally invented in 17th century France, pralines were whole almonds individually coated in caramelized sugar. The powder made by grinding up the sugar-coated nuts is called pralin or praliné in French, and is an ingredient in many cakes and pastries. The praline commonly associated with the American South is made with pecans and sugar syrup, formed into a patty.

Pralines are tricky. Like bread baking, it varies, depending on the day, the weather, the state of your ingredients, and how the stars are aligned. The most important things to learn are when to remove them from the heat, and when to stop beating them and start spooning onto the waxed paper. You have to beat the hot sugar mixture to just the right stage before spooning them out. Too little and they don't set up at all, remaining sticky. Too much and they start to set and crystallize before you can get them spooned out, forming lumpy globs. Worse, they can over-crystallize, resulting in a grainy, dry mess of crumbs. Unfortunately, as with bread baking, experience and trial and error are really the only way to develop a "feel" for the timing. When you do get it right you end up with perfect flat round disks studded with pecans.

Some recipes call for a little cane or corn syrup to stabilize and prevent over-crystallization, and some even call for cream, but I make them like my grandmother did, with a base of buttermilk, baking soda, and sugar heated to the soft boil stage and then beaten with a little butter, vanilla and pecans. Perfectly flat or shaped like a glob, they taste wonderful, and I'm not too picky about appearances.

These pralines are for my Dad and will go into the mail this afternoon. They are also my entry for this month's Sugar High Friday, hosted by Habeas Brulee, and dedicated to sweet gifts of food.

Buttermilk Pralines

3 Cups sugar
1 Cup buttermilk
1 tsp soda
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/3 stick real butter
2 cups pecan halves or pieces

Heat the sugar, buttermilk and soda on low until the sugar is dissolved. Bring the heat up to a rolling boil and cook to the soft ball stage (236 degrees), stirring occasionally and watching to make sure it doesn't boil over. The mixture will darken as it cooks. Once you get to the soft ball stage, remove the mixture from the heat and add the vanilla, butter and pecans. Beat by hand until it begins to lose it's gloss (this does not take long). Drop spoonfuls onto waxed or parchment paper. Let cool.

For those of you inexperienced with candy-making here are some tips:

1) Get yourself a good clip-on candy thermometer, and make sure you have a pot with a clip-friendly rim before you start.

2) Use a deep pot, as the sugar mixture will bubble up quite high. It will also toss molten drops of candy upwards, so make sure you have a long wooden spoon.

3) Run a stick of butter around the inside of the pot about four inches above the bottom to create a 2-inch wide, light “ring” of butter. This will help keep the mixture from climbing too high, as well as to help prevent the formation of crystals on the side of the pan during boiling (this is a new trick I learned from the excellent Fine Art of Confectionary).

4) Have the vanilla, butter and pecans pre-measured and ready, as well as sheets of waxed paper laid out. Make sure the surface you are working with won't be damaged by the high heat of the pralines.

5) By the time the mixture loses its shine,signaling that it is time to drop spoonfuls onto the waxed paper, it often starts hardening too fast to drop correctly. You can stir in about 1 - 2 tablespoons of warm water to thin the mixture. Don't add too much - just enough to make the spoonfuls drop and settle in a "puddle". Ideally, you don't want them to look like chunks of rocks. Personally I hardly ever do this. But if you're a perfectionist it does work.

6) Don't be tempted to lick that spoon! It's HOT!

7) Some people believe that you should never make pralines on a rainy day because the humidity will prevent them from setting. I sort of believe this myself, as my only failures have been on rainy or high humidity days. On the other hand I have also made them successfully on a rainy day. So who knows. Still, I'm always happier if the sun is shining and the humidity level is low.

8) If your pralines don't set and remain sticky, fear not. You can always reheat the mixture gently and then fill some chocolate cake layers with it for a really decadent treat. Just pour it over each layer, building upward and making sure you have enough for the top. Not the prettiest cake in the world, but possibly the tastiest!

The New Millennium Speakeasy: Underground Dinner Parties

On a whim last year we signed up for the mailing lists of several underground dinner party organizations (cabals?) here in NYC. We didn't make it to any of the parties, missing the October event hosted by Foodie NYC for reasons we can't remember, as well as the  November menu for Studiofeast because Jack was in London and Ann didn't want to go alone. But on Friday night the stars aligned and we managed to get ourselves to the latest Studiofeast dinner, prepared by Ilan Hall, winner of Top Chef, Season 2.

Studiofeast describes itself as an "invitation only culinary collective that focuses on promoting emerging and undiscovered gastronomic talent." Events are limited to a certain number of guests and the only way to get an invite is to get a spot on their mailing list. Until this event Mike Lee and Derek Yuen did all the cooking. This was the first of the "Studiofeast Presents" series, and was given on behalf of the West Side Campaign Against Hunger.
 

We got our invitation (with secret password and a link to the registration page) about ten days ahead of the event and promptly made a reservation. Our confirmation promised an email a few days before the feast with a map to the undisclosed location as well as suggested wines (available at a local wine shop they've partnered with).

Sure enough we got the secret map and suggested wine pairings, and were delighted to note that we'd only need to walk a few blocks to get to the dinner party. We did feel that three full bottles of wine were a bit much for the two of us in combination with three main courses, and decided to offer to share with another couple, if possible. Generally our preference is to just pay for wine pairings and have it all taken care of for us. However, it turned out that the bustling, sociable, unhurried nature of the event was such that wine was flowing freely until after midnight and people were sharing and exchanging contributions quite happily, so in fact it was just as well we brought all three bottles.

The venue turned out to be a beautiful and extensive old loft. We arrived promptly at 8:00 and were greeted warmly by the host, Mike. Things were already in full swing and it was immediately clear that this event was going to be slightly larger than we'd anticipated. By the time everyone was seated we estimated an attendance of around 90 diners. Naturally we peered into the kitchen and were puzzled to see a complete lack of food, food-related activity or, indeed, Ilan Hall! This mystery was soon explained when we met Ed from the loft next door: the food prep was all going on in there. Ed said it would be fine if we went to take a look so of course we did.

The picture above was taken in a hurry because it was clear the prep was at a fairly hectic stage and the look we got from Ilan made us suspect that, unlike Ed, he considered non-contributing gawkers somewhat less than "fine"!

At 9:00 the "amuse" was served. This was more like a full course than an amuse: a lightly-toasted slice of bread topped with a sizeable piece of melt-in-the-mouth-tender foie gras with balsamic reduction, dressed with a thin slice of serrano ham and slivers of spring onion. The toast was circles of rye bread made thin and crispy with the help of a panini machine.  A very impressive opener!

We were a little concerned about the first course proper-- Pork Tartare-- and noted a small disclaimer on the event registration page reading 'No menu substitutions or vegetarian options available. Menu is "as-is" and the entire Studiofeast experience is at your own risk. Consumption of raw or undercooked food may result in foodborne illness.' We wondered whether "tartare" was, in this instance, some sort of artistic culinary  code for... well, something that didn't really involve playing trichinellosis roulette! But no; when the dish arrived it was clear that Ilan really meant it. Not only were we presented with a pressed patty of raw pork over dressed spinach, it was topped with a raw quail's egg! Well, if you're going to play fast and loose with food health wisdom you might as well do so in a big way, I suppose. But here's the thing: it was delicious.

The picture doesn't do it justice but you get the idea. The little smear of popcorn emulsion (which had a smack of mustard about it) gave the necessary tang to contrast with the pork's almost rillette-like flavour, and the egg simply added unctuous, mouth-pleasing delight (there really ought to be more alternative adjectives for "unctuous" but so often it seems there's simply no better way to succinctly describe that moan-inducing feeling of sheer... unctuousness!)

We weren't keen on the first of the wine selections - the Foxglove 2006 Chardonnay. To be fair we're not big white wine fans anyway, and Chardonnay is one of our least favourite types, but this one just seemed distinctly ordinary. It tasted like a pretty standard, medium-bodied, vaguely buttery example of the breed. Not bad, just... uninspired. We swiftly moved on to the second wine - a 2006 Domaine La Garrigue Cotes Du Rhone. This was better. As young as the Chardonnay, it wore its youth with much more style and freshness. Medium bodied with top notes of light, very slightly metallic acidity but with just about enough fruitiness going on to balance things out. Again, not a stellar wine, but perfectly decent, and it went reasonably well with the pork.

We stayed with it for the next course too, which was bacon poached swordfish with "Ilan Chon" salad (comprising firm, woodsy mushrooms and crisp leaves - possibly Bok Choi). The fish was delicately cooked, wonderfully moist and tender, and the three main flavours were a successful combination: the asian-style veg and the hit of crisp bacon complementing the fish very well.

We moved on to the final wine selection: a 2002 Signa Marques de Concordia Rioja. This, we suspected, would be the best of the three for us, and we were right. We love big, dirty old reds and they don't come much bigger or dirtier than a good Rioja. This one was a sweaty, oaky classic with cellar dust on the nose and plump black fruit flavour in abundance. We loved it, and it was just the thing for the next dish: crispy American lamb breast with ginger and mint vinegar. Just prior to the serving of this dish Ilan had emerged from the kitchen and stood atop a table to explain how we were to eat it. The idea was that the succulent, fatty lamb should be dipped into the vinegar to provide the intended contrast of meaty and minty goodness. However, he had a problem: insufficient mint. So, to much laughter,  he asked if anyone had any Altoids! Someone did, so they tossed him the pack and he disappeared back into the kitchen. We have no idea whether he really used the Altoids in the mint and ginger vinegar but we hope he did. In any case, the results were great! Served with thin slices of roast potato, this dish was a satisfying finale to the main courses. Sadly, our attempts at photographing it were dismal (perhaps the wine was kicking in a little too hard by this stage). We had no luck getting a tolerable photo of the dessert - Scottish Rice Pudding - either so instead here's a picture of the three wines.

By the time the meal was over everyone was well lubricated, happy and sociable. Ilan, looking much more relaxed now the hard work was done, held court in the kitchen and chatted with anyone who cared to stop by. We forgot to ask whether he really used those Altoids but Jack complemented him on his, er, audacity with the pork dish and he laughed at the choice of word (at least we think that's what he was laughing at). We wandered out into the streets of Williamsburg well after midnight and decided to round off the evening with a visit to a couple of bars. By the time we got to bed it was well into the early hours and as a result yesterday was a bit of a write off for us both (hence the delay in getting this post up) but it was worth it for a fabulous and unusual evening. I think we may do this again!

Taking The CSA Plunge

Pretty much all we see at the Greenmarket these days

For years I have been making a mental note to myself to join a CSA and then promptly losing the note. Occasionally I find it again, but at the wrong time when sign-ups are over. This year, though, Tammy over at Food On The Food has been entertaining me with stories about her CSA (and farmer) for months and I was inspired enough to get myself signed up for the Greenpoint-Wiliamsburg CSA.

I'm probably crazy because I took a full share of vegetables AND fruit (I signed up for eggs and flowers, too, but that's less anxiety-producing), and starting in June I'll be picking up my shares every Saturday. I actually emailed Tammy to ask her if I'd want to kill myself during the height of zucchini season, and while she didn't quite agree that this would be the case, she did give me lots of encouragement and then mentioned I might be cursing her for the first month. This seems fair to me.

I'm looking forward to picking up fresh produce and to the challenge of cooking seasonally with whatever is being harvested that week. I'm not so much looking forward to carrying a watermelon up five flights of stairs in high summer. Or even to walking my canvas bags of vegetables, eggs and fruit the mile home before hauling it up five flights of stairs. Maybe I need to buy a granny cart.

Heart of the Matter: Party Food

It was in Rome that I first tasted cannellini beans tossed with thinly sliced red onion, herbs and olive oil. I fell in love with the earthy flavor and made a point of trying the many, many variations on this dish whenever possible.

It's a dish that travels well and can be eaten at room temperature, making it perfect for potlucks and picnics. I don't think I've ever ended up with the same end result, though I always start with the same basic recipe. The salad pictured here has less tomato than called for, white onions instead or red, and the addition of radishes and baby spinach. That's the beauty of this recipe-- once you've got the basic salad made you can add whatever appeals to you. Chopped pitted Greek olives, sliced pepperoncini (small Italian peppers),  and bits of feta or smoked cheese also work very well.

You can, of course, cook your own beans, but I tend not to plan ahead that far. I always have a few cans of cannellini beans in my cupboard so that I can make this salad at a moment's notice.

Cannellini Bean Salad
adapted from The American Cancer Society's Healthy Eating Cookbook
serves 4

1 16-ounce can white beans
1 tablespoon olive oil
Splash of red wine vinegar, to taste
Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
2 large ripe tomatoes, seeded and diced
1/4 cup red onion, finely diced
2 tablespoons fresh oregano

Place beans into a small bowl. Add olive oil, salt, and pepper, mixing gently. Add tomatoes, onion, and oregano and toss to mix. Add the vinegar, to taste.

This is my entry for The Heart of The Matter event 13, hosted by Ilva of Lucullian Delights.