redacted recipes

Cool as a Cucumber, Melon and Tomato Salad

In the damned dog days of summer when the air is heavy and sultry and the humidity is so high that walking down the street feels like a water aerobics class, you need food that soothes and cools-- and you definitely do NOT need to be dealing with a hot stove and oven.

My grandmother used to serve a side-dish of sliced cucumbers with ice cubes and a little vinegar. She also liked to chill melon and then serve it in large wedges with salt and pepper. Both these dishes provided instant relief from the heat in the height of summer, and they're a natural combined together.

Crunchy cukes with tomatoes and ripe, juicy melon make for a lovely cooling dish that will help you beat the heat and maybe make you feel a little bit less cranky about it all. This salad goes out to Beat the Heat, hosted by A Southern Grace.

Cool as a Cucumber, Melon and Tomato Salad

2 cups cantaloupe, cubed
1 cup cucumber, seeded and chopped
1 cup cherry tomatoes (or chopped tomato)
1/2 cup red onion, diced
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 tablespoons fresh lime or lemon juice
fresh ground black pepper,
a light sprinkle of sea salt
1/2 cup fresh mint, coarsely chopped
feta cheese, crumbled

Toss it all together and let meld for an hour or so in the refrigerator.

Risotto Cakes

Last night I had no plans for dinner but lots of leftover risotto. I'd frozen some of it and refrigerated about 3 cups with the idea of trying out risotto cakes. There are a couple of methods for doing this. Some recipes advise adding egg yolks and beaten egg whites to room temperature risotto and then pouring the resulting batter onto griddle and cooking it just like you would pancakes. I decided to try another method:

Risotto Cakes

3 cups chilled risotto
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
1 1/2 cups coarse bread crumbs (I used store-bought, but you could make your own)
6 tablespoons olive oil

Preheat the oven to 350F. Form the chilled risotto into 8 patties using wet hands. Put the flour, eggs, and bread crumbs in 3 separate shallow bowls. Coat each risotto patty with flour, tapping off the excess, then egg (letting the excess drip off), and then bread crumbs, handling them very gently. Transfer the cakes to wax paper.

Heat 3 tablespoons of the olive oil in a 12-inch heavy skillet over moderately high heat until hot (but not smoking!), and then sauté 4 of the cakes, turning them over once, until browned (5 to 6 minutes total). Transfer the cakes to a baking sheet and keep them warm in the oven. Heat the remaining 3 tablespoons oil and sauté the remaining 4 cakes in the same manner.

Depending on what sort of leftover risotto you're using, garnish appropriately. We happened to have Acorn Squash, Rosemary and Blue Cheese Risotto, so I sprinkled the cakes with crumbled blue cheese and fresh chopped rosemary.

Makes 4 side-dish servings or more than enough for 2 main meal servings. Serve with a salad and a big-bodied red wine.

Gotta Try That! Green Beans and Beets with Lemon Mustard Vinaigrette

Last week I had a bag of green beans in my vegetable crisper and no thoughts about what to do with them, Naturally I started wandering around in food blog land and found this lovely recipe for green beans with a lemon mustard dressing over at From the kitchen of a captious vegetarian. As I also had a couple of beets rolling around in the crisper (left over from my experiments with Beet Risotto) I was very pleased to see that the captious vegetarian sometimes substitutes beets for green beans in this recipe. A green bean and beet salad was obviously meant to be.

Interestingly, the captious vegetarian notes that, while she loves the dish, she's gotten so-so reviews on it. I honestly don't see why-- the dressing perfectly compliments both the green beans and the beets, and the way the thin slices of onion are prepped makes them almost taste pickled. It's perfect in my book. Thanks to the captious vegetarian for the inspiration and recipe!

Green Beans and Beets with Lemon Mustard Vinaigrette
serves 4 as a starter

1 small red onion, cut in half and thinly sliced
1/4 tsp salt (too much?)
pinch freshly milled black pepper
1 Tbs apple cider vinegar
1 pound of green beans, trimmed
1 medium-sized beet

Scrub the beet, cut it into quarters, and wrap it loosely in foil. Roast in the oven at 450F for about 30  minutes, or until it is tender.

Place the thinly sliced onion in a bowl and cover the slices with boiling water. Let sit about 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, blanch the green beans in boiling water (about 4 minutes) and then plunge them into cold water.

Drain the onions and toss them with the salt, pepper and vinegar.

When the beet quarters are cool enough to handle, remove the skin and cut each quarter into thin slices.

Make the vinaigrette, whisking all of the ingredients together:

1/2 teaspoon coarse sea salt
1/8 teaspoon cayenne
1 small garlic clove, crushed
1 tablespoon Dijon-style mustard
1 teaspoon honey
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

Drain the onions once again, squeezing them dry. Toss half of the onions with the green beans and half of them with the beet slices. Assemble the salad by placing the green beans and sliced beets on a platter.  Pour the dressing over the top and let it sit for about 15 minutes before serving.

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.

Onion Kulcha

 

This has really been the month of flatbreads for me and I have more coming soon! When I made Za'atar Bread, karyn of HotPotato threatened to move in with me if I ever made Onion Kulcha. So naturally I had to try it, though I did warn her she'd have to sleep on the couch. I found this wonderful tutorial on Northern Indian Breads at eGullet, complete with very helpful photos, and followed the recipe given almost exactly.

As with the lahmajouns and za'atar bread, making kulcha added an elemental rhythm to my day, though I noticed real differences in the behaviour of the naan dough--it was much more elastic and stretchy when I was rolling it out. I was interested to see that it was leavened with baking powder instead of yeast, too (though I did find a very few recipes calling for yeast and time to proof the dough). The end result had that wonderful chewy texture you experience when you order naan in a good Indian restaurant. They were quite nice the next day, too, but absolutely fabulous right out of the oven. Kulcha really should not be made ahead.

Onion Kulcha
Monica Bhide and Chef Sudhir Seth, from the Northern Indian Breads tutorial at eGullet
makes 8 onion kulchas

Prepare the Naan Dough:

½ cup milk
1 teaspoon sugar
1 cup warm water
1 tablespoon yogurt
1 egg
4 cups of all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 tablespoon vegetable oil (for baking tray)

Whisk together the milk, sugar, water, yogurt and egg.

Place the flour, salt and baking powder in a large shallow bowl. Mix well.

Pour the liquid onto the flour and begin to knead. Continue kneading until you have a soft dough. If you need more liquid, add a few tablespoons of warm water. Knead for at least 10 minutes, or until you have a soft dough that is not sticky. Oil the dough, cover with a damp cloth and place in a warm place for 1½ - 2 hours, or until the dough has doubled in size.

While the dough is rising, prepare the filling:

2 small red onions, finely chopped
1small hot chili pepper, minced
1 tablespoon minced cilantro
1 teaspoon red chili powder
Salt to taste
3 tablespoons melted butter or clarified butter
2 teaspoons cilantro, minced for garnish
small boiled potato, grated (optional)

Squeeze out all the water from the chopped onions. If the onions still appear to be watery, add a small boiled grated potato to your filling. In a mixing bowl combine all the filling to form a lumpy consistency. Set aside until the dough has risen and is ready to form into kulchas.

Assembling the Onion Kulchas:

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F, and lightly oil two baking sheets.

Lightly dust the rolling surface with flour. Roll the dough into a log and cut it into 8 equal portions. Take one portion of the dough and roll into a ball between the palms of your hands, flattening the ball. Place it on the floured surface and roll it out into a circle about 6 inches in diameter.

Add a tablespoon of the filling to the center and bring the sides up and together, pinching them to seal and form a ball (at this point I advise you to go and look at the excellent photos in the tutorial). Flatten lightly. Dust very lightly with flour. Roll again about 5 - 6 inches in diameter.

Dip your fingers in water and moisten the surface of the kulcha very lightly. Sprinkle with a few minced cilantro leaves. Continue until you have made 8 kulchas (four per baking sheet).

Place the kulchas in the oven for 5 minutes. Turn on the broiler and broil for an additional 3 minutes or until golden brown.  Serve hot.

Gruyère Gougères

One of my goals this year is to master choux pastry so that I can make religieuses. I'm starting with gougères, as they are also made with choux pastry. These were made to go with a supper of Carrot Cumin Soup and a simple salad.

Aside from the fact that they were a bit on the large side (I know to make them about half the size next time), they were as good as any I've ever had. In fact, having had them at both The French Laundry and at Per Se, I'm pleased to say that mine tasted just like theirs do (not surprisingly, given that I used the recipe from The French Laundry Cookbook). So, yay me! You can see the recipe here.

Za'atar Bread

Well, I seem to be on a roll here with Middle Eastern flatbreads.  I enjoyed making lahmajouns so much that I decided to tackle another favorite-- flatbread with za'atar and olive oil.

Za'atar originates in the Middle East (I won't invite any controversy by claiming to know where), and can be loosely described as a mixture of herbs, including thyme, marjoram and oregano. The mixture is popular in Lebanon, Turkey, Morocco, Syria, Jordan, Israel and North Africa and within the Armenian diaspora.

There is a lot of debate about what za'atar actually is. Some claim that the word za'atar refers to local herbs belonging to the mint family, such as thyme, marjoram and oregano; some maintain that za'atar is simply a mixture of herbs and spices; while others swear that za'atar is a specific herb now in danger of extinction and illegal to harvest.

While many za'atar recipes call for sumac (red za'atar), the essentials of za'atar are the blended herbs (green za'atar). Whatever the blend, za'atar is used to spice meats and vegetables or mixed with olive oil to make a spread (baked on a dough base for the Middle-Eastern equivalent of a miniature pizza) and can also sprinkled on labneh (yogurt that has been drained until it becomes a tangy, creamy cheese).

I like it on bread and this is the recipe for za'atar I used (I didn't have sumac in the house and just skipped it and called it green za'atar):

Za'atar

2 teaspoons oregano
2 teaspoons basil
2 tablespoons ground thyme
1 teaspoon whole thyme
2 teaspoons savory
2 teaspoons ground marjoram
1/2 teaspoons whole dry marjoram
1-2 tablespoons sumac berries, crushed
1/4-1/2 cup unhulled, toasted sesame seeds, ground coarsely
1 teaspoon of salt (or to taste)

Grind or crush the sesame seeds first and then crush the sumac (separate from the sesame seeds). Then crush everything together with a pestle or the back of a spoon, or put it into a zipper plastic baggie, press out the air, seal, and roll over it with a rolling pin until the desired mix and texture is achieved. It should be a little coarse with the sesame seeds still recognizable-- so don't try to achieve a fine powder.

Flatbread with Za'atar

This recipe is from Mediterranean Street Food by Anissa Helou and makes a thicker, more pliable round of flatbread than the recipe I used for lahmajoun.

1/2 teaspoon active dry yeast mixed with 1/4 cup of tepid water
1 3/4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour + more for kneading
1 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1/4 cup water
3 tablespoons za'atar mixed with 1/4 - 1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil

Combine the flour and salt in a large mixing bowl. Make a well in the center and pour in the 2 tablespoons of olive oil. Work the oil into the flour with your fingers, then add the yeast water and mix until the mixture begins to come together. Add another 1/4 cup water gradually, mixing with your hand until the mixture cleans the bowl and has come together into a slightly sticky dough. Knead briefly on a lightly floured surface, dusting with flour if needed, then cover with an inverted bowl and let rest 15 minutes.

Knead the dough, dusting with as little flour as possible, until it is smooth, 1 to 2 minutes. Shape into a ball, cover with a damp cloth and let rise in a warm place until doubled in size, about 1 hour.

Divide the dough into 4 equal portions and roll each into a ball. Cover with a towel and let rest 15 minutes.

Preheat a nonstick skillet over moderate heat. Preheat a broiler as well.

With a rolling pin, flatten a ball of dough into a round about 1/8-inch thick, flouring as needed. Dimple the dough with your fingertips to prevent the topping from running off during cooking. Transfer the round to the skillet and spread with a quarter of the za'atar and oil mixture. Cook until the bottom is crisp and lightly golden, about 3 minutes, then brown the surface under the broiler. Transfer to a rack. Repeat with the remaining dough. Serve hot or warm.

Note: this bread is really nice and I will be making it in larger batches without the topping (just flipping it right in the cast-iron skillet to brown both sides) to use throughout the week.

Bad Teeth and Lousy Food: The Mighty Yorkshire Pud

It wasn't all bad, you see. I've already mentioned fish and chips as an example of good grub that was available back in seventies Britain, but it wasn't necessary for me to leave the house in order to get enjoyable food. My mother was a pretty good cook. Yes, she worked within the limitations and prejudices of the time and yes, she tended to overcook vegetables just like everyone else back then, but there were certain things she cooked which I remember fondly. Some were odd little dishes she found in women's magazines (and I'll be posting about one of those soon) but most were British standards, such as Yorkshire pudding.

Yorkshire pudding is both easy to make and easy to screw up. My mother taught me that there were just a few key things you have to get absolutely right to ensure success. A successful Yorkshire pudding should be light, nicely risen, just a little moist on the base, well-browned and above all, tasty. A screwed-up Yorkshire pudding can be burnt, soggy, flat or jaundiced-looking, but it will always be completely inedible. Even a Yorkshire terrier will turn his nose up at a ruined Yorkshire.

Yesterday was Thanksgiving and Ann's three kids (plus one girlfriend) came round to be fed a fairly traditional Thanksgiving meal. Of course we had a big fat turkey. We had corn, mashed potatoes, stuffing, cranberry... but there was also a British interloper. I made six little Yorkshire puds, following mum's recipe (given below), and in spite of our temperamental and capricious oven they turned out pretty well. There they are in the picture above.

Mum's take on the perfect Yorkshire involves, frankly, witchcraft. She insists that it is vital that the batter is beaten with a wooden spoon; no other implement will give the same results. Further, it must be beaten for five wrist-cramping minutes. She swears that the final addition of a teaspoonful of warm water makes all the difference. I do not believe any of this. I'm a rationalist. Why on earth shouldn't the batter be beaten with a whisk? Such nonsense! On the other hand, I know my mother's Yorkshires are peerless. I used a wooden spoon. I beat the mixture for five minutes. I added that teaspoon of warm water. Don't mess with witchcraft.

Jack's Mum's Yorkshire Pudding

For four individual puds (You'll need a non-stick cooking tin similar to this):

1 egg
2 oz plain flour
5oz full milk
Pinch of salt
Lard, cooking fat or shortening such as Crisco

Mix the egg, sifted flour and salt thoroughly, and beat a little if you can (it will be very stiff). Gradually stir in half the milk, beating all the while. Add the remainder of the milk and beat for five minutes or as long as you can stand. Get plenty of air in there. If you do this right there will be no lumps. If you fail, get a nearby friend to chastise you and then put the mixture through a sieve. Shame on you.

Leave the mixture to stand for 1-2 hours.

Put a knob of the cooking fat into each dish of your Yorkshire tin. How much is a knob, you ask? Oh... about a rounded teaspoonful, I guess. Enough to cover the base of the dish when it melts. Put the tin into a HOT oven and leave it for around ten minutes, or until the fat is really hot. This is important. Your batter needs to sizzle when you pour it in.

Just before putting the batter in, beat that magic teaspoonful of warm water into the mix (and yes, you can probably leave this bit out, even though I lack the courage) Divide the mixture between the four pans. Each one should contain enough to comfortably cover the base and maybe a little bit over, but don't make it too deep or you'll end up with a sloppy bottom. And nobody likes a sloppy bottom, do they?

Bake for 15-20 minutes. Resist the urge to open the oven door to check on things until at least 15 minutes have passed otherwise you risk the collapsed soufflé effect. Your puds will be done when they have risen nicely and look medium-to-dark brown at the edges. Serve with any roast dinner and gravy. Nothing beats a good thick gravy over a Yorkshire.

(Previously) Bad Teeth and Lousy Food: The Perfect Chip

(Next) Bad Teeth and Lousy Food: Late Developments

Bad Teeth and Lousy Food Addendum: The Perfect Chip

This is just a quick postscript to my recent piece about fish and chips. I used to cook chips at home a lot when I lived in the UK and, without wanting to flatter myself (because we Brits are far too modest for that sort of thing), my home-cooked chips were always extremely popular with friends. I cooked them with fish (of course) but also with steak, with eggs, with fondue bourguignon, with pies and with all sorts of things I probably shouldn't have.

Cooking a classic chip is very easy as long as you get a small number of details right. Firstly, you need a proper chip pan. There is no substitute: get one, and get a large one. It needs to be large because chip pans are dangerous. You must never fill them more than about a third full of oil or fat. Chip pan fires are notorious and nasty. They happen when a pan is overfilled or the fat/oil is allowed to get too hot. I have seen one first-hand and, whilst undeniably spectacular, they are extremely fierce and - as you might expect from combustion involving a significant quantity of burning oil - likely to result in the loss of your house. But don't let this put you off, just be careful!

Your chip pan is a simple round steel pan with a wire basket and lid. I use a fairly heavy vegetable or corn oil: light oils such as sunflower are too thin for the job, and to use olive oil would be sheer blithering madness. You need an oil that has a high natural cooking temperature. Fill your pan about a third full and put it over a medium-to-high heat. It will probably need about four or five minutes to reach a suitable temperature (obviously depending on size) but I shall give you a simple test for that. Never, ever leave a heating chip pan unattended. Please. Trust me on this. While it's heating up you can chip your potatoes, which should be of a large white variety such as King Edwards. Do not use waxy types or the results will be grim. Generally, if it bakes well, it will probably chip well.

Perfect Chips

Peel your spuds and cut them into slices about 1cm thick. Cut those slices  into chips of the same thickness. Test the oil by dipping the end of a chip into it. If it starts to sizzle nicely (but not too violently) as soon as you dip, all systems are go. Take the basket out of the oil and fill it (not more than half full) with chips. Carefully lower it into the hot oil and watch the level while you do so, and for at least a minute afterwards. The oil should foam and sizzle quite vigorously as you lower the chips into it but if it gets within an inch of the top of the pan lift the basket out immediately and either lower the heat and wait a bit or just keep carefully and slowly dunking the basket until you can keep all the chips submerged without the oil threatening to ride up and spill over. If your chips are at all wet this will make the oil misbehave badly (vapourising water in hot oil is a dodgy business). Fresh-cut potatoes have a certain amount of natural moisture in them so you must expect an initial degree of liveliness: the trick is to watch it and adjust until most of the moisture has evaporated. At this point the sizzling will settle and you can put the lid on and relax. But do keep an eye on things.

In about five minutes or so your chips should be golden and slightly crisp on the outside, and soft and yielding on the inside. Hoist the basket out of the oil and test one (careful! They will be HOT!) If all is good, turn off the heat and dump the chips into a bowl lined with absorbent paper. Salt them if you are that way inclined (I'm not, but many are), give them a shake and serve. Malt vinegar is, in my view, the only essential condiment.

I've been making chips for so long that it seems as easy as breathing to me but you might need to experiment at first to get the oil temperature and cooking time right. If the oil is too hot when you start, the chips will be overcooked (or burnt) on the outside and not cooked through, which is horrible. If the temperature is too low they will be limp and soggy , which is differently but equally unpleasant. A few trials will make sure you avoid these rookie errors and that you're soon turning out only the most perfect, golden, scrumptious chips.

(Previously) Bad Teeth and Lousy Food: Piece and Six

(Next) Bad Teeth and Lousy Food: The Mighty Yorkshire Pud

Apples and Thyme: Grandma's Comfort Food

  This post is part of the blogging event Apples and Thyme, hosted by Vanielje's Kitchen. It's a celebration of time spent with our mothers and grandmothers. My grandmother lived on a working ranch most of her life and grew nearly everything she cooked. Her garden was a year-round venture (California is nice that way), and her freezer was full of the beef she and my grandfather raised.

My sister, Lisa, and I spent a lot of time on the ranch as children-- long lovely days with exactly the same routine. In the mornings we were wakened early by my grandfather, who had already been out on horseback to check on the cattle and open or close the many irrigation ditches. Grandma would serve us a breakfast of whatever fruit was in season (I remember the strawberries and raspberries with cream most fondly) or her "Crêpes Suzette " which were really just very thin pancakes rolled around strawberry preserves and dusted with confectioners' sugar. Grandpa would urge us to finish up so we could go and collect the horses for a morning ride.

Lisa and I were given our first horse when I was eight and she was six... a Shetland pony named Cricket. Cricket wasn't the nicest pony, frankly--she had a habit of trying to scrap her rider off of her back by bolting to low-hanging tree branches. Consequently, Lisa mostly rode behind Grandpa while I rode Cricket, struggling not to let on that I considered the daily ride a grim struggle of will. But I loved those morning rides in spite of the fear of being scraped off or regular detours through a field of shoulder-high thistles. My favorite moments with Cricket were after our ride, when she was tired, and I'd offer her a bucket of oats after unsaddling and brushing her down. I rather liked the taste of the oats myself, and would often take a handful to munch on.

Lunch (or supper, as they called it) was the main meal of the day and Grandma spent the morning getting it ready for us. We nearly always had Black Angus beef in some form, accompanied by produce from the garden. My absolute favorite was a dish of tiny baby carrots in a delicate cream sauce. I also loved Grandma's way of cooking green beans-- with bacon fat until they were deep olive green and falling apart.

Grandma really pulled out all the stops for holiday meals, Thanksgiving and Christmas in particular. In addition to the usual turkey, stuffing and mashed potatoes, she served her watermelon pickles tasting of cloves and vinegar; hot fluffy biscuits, a souffle-like casserole of corn and pimentos, and a creamed onions dish I am still passionate about.

Then there were her cakes... like many of her generation she moved easily between scratch recipes and the convenience of Duncan Hines. The two I remember best and make for myself and company alike are Elvetta's Prune Cake, a dense, moist and spicey multi-layered scratch cake with mocha frosting; and Heaven and Hell Cake, made from a box of golden cake mix with homemade fudge frosting. Being a lady who seldom swore, she always giggled a little when she spoke of Heaven and Hell Cake, and she always hastened to explain the name. "It tastes like heaven but it looks like hell!"

Here are her recipes: