sweets in the kitchen: roasted brussels sprouts & an announcement

So I'm cheating a little bit today.  On this recipe, I mean.  I'm posting a recipe that Sweets cooked up, oh, I'd say about 2 weeks ago, when we caught our first glimpse of Brussels sprouts and couldn't leave the store without a big stalk of them, awkwardly poking from the top our reusable grocery bag. 

I'm sad that I didn't take any photos of the stalk. These puppies were the honkinest, most ginormous sprouts either of us had ever seen.  They may as well have been full-fledged cabbages hanging off that stalk.  We ended up pulling half of them off to be frozen, because we couldn't fathom that much Brussels in the short time they'd survive the higher temps of the fridge.  

At any rate, sweets turned our first Brussels sprouts into the most incredible roasted veggie dish I may have ever had.  She quartered criminis and sliced up shallot to go along with the greens, doused the whole thing in a healthy glug of olive oil, and plopped it all in the oven to brown and caramelize and become something insanely delicious.

white bean dip with chimichurri

I apologize for the unexplained hiatus.  School and the job hunt have been a bit overwhelming these last two weeks, not to mention the 2 baking recipes that I bombed last Monday.  I was so excited to have a long weekend to "celebrate" President's Day and bake something tasty.  Or, not so tasty, as it turned out.  Thinkin' 'bout Lincoln... and burnt coconut macaroons.  Sigh... oh well.

I'm working on letting things go.

Since then I've been back in the kitchen, working to redeem myself from the President's Day Disaster (it'll live on in infamy, I'm sure).  The other night I made a flat-leaf parsley pesto sauce to smear on top of the chicken we were having for dinner.  I put garlic and olive oil and a little Parmesan in the blender with half a bunch of leaves and pureed.  It was quite tasty, and added some flair to the meal.  Then the following day, we were watching Anthony Bourdain galavant around Uruguay, gorging himself on BBQ'd animal parts, and the condiment of choice on every single table was a sauce by the name of chimichurri.

roasted beets with lemon dressing & chevre

January is coming to a close, folks.  There's a bittersweet taste in my mouth as this first month of 2011 whizzes by.  On the one hand, spring is working its way closer to us with each passing day.  That is most definitely cause for excitement.  A look out the window on the other side of this train, though, reveals the reality of time's lightening-quick progression and my own inability to keep tabs on it.  I crane my neck to look back for it without success.  Where did it go, all that time?  Didn't I cross the border into my thirties just last week?  Oh, that was six months ago?  Jeeze, I need to open my eyes - life is obviously moving right on by, with or without me. 

technology fails me; butternut squash gratin does not

Are you familiar with the term Luddite?  Apparently, it originated with some angry British folks around the time of the industrial revolution who were bent-out-of-shape about certain technological advancements that allowed unskilled laborers to do work that had previously required people with specific expertise.  Today the word is used to describe anyone who has a burr up their butt about the technology of the day.  You won't see a Luddite anywhere near an Apple store on the release date of a new i-(insert name of device here) or scoping the newest smartphone apps online.  You may, however, see one attempting to figure out how to text message on their flip phone from 1999.

I tend to be one of those people. 

One device that I do find life difficult to live without, though, is my computer.  Obviously I have a decent relationship with that one gadget, or these words would not be finding their way to your eyes at this moment.  For 5 years now, Mad Sweeney (yes, I named my PC after a fictional, alcoholic leprechaun) has been my keeper of secrets, my jukebox, my photo album, and my gateway to the universe of the interweb.  This last one nearly brought on his demise.

Homemade Nut & Seed Crackers and A Brand New Year

Happy 2011, all.  It's that time of year again.  That time when people are attempting to conjure up whatever momentum they lost around mid-March last year and focus it on starting anew.  The ball drops, the booze and the cookies run out, and people tell themselves that they're going to lose those pounds, quit that habit, take up that hobby or make themselves over in this way or that.

While I'm all for self-transformation, I think that it's more lasting and successful when approached as a consistent effort, completely separate from the calendar.  I think that the word "resolution" has become a synonym for the word "failure".  So in order to avoid the epic fail, I want to suggest a new word.  One without the excess baggage of cliche or the burden of defeat.  That word is intention.  Say it with me now.... inteentioonnn...

Sauerkraut Revisited

A little while back, I posted a long-winded story about this cookbook I'd discovered called The Lost Art of Real Cooking.  Unfortunately, the library is fairly strict about due dates and late charges and whatnot, so in order to maintain my book-borrowing privileges, I reluctantly gave The Lost Art back to its rightful owners.  But even though I don't actually have the red-covered pages in my hands any longer, I have something just as special, a memento of our time together, if you will, in my refrigerator.

Sauerkraut.

Does that not sound special to you?  Well, I, my friends, have fallen as hard for this fermented cabbage as I did for The Lost Art itself.  Textured with a crunchy bite, zesty with the spice of Thai chilis, and full of that distinctive sauer- flavor that makes this dish what it is...  I still have a difficult time believing that the raw cabbage shreds I immersed in salty water and put away in the cabinet actually transformed into this party starter (put some in your mouth, and you'll see what I mean).

Potato Leek Soup

It's snowing today.  The flakes are coming down like it's actually winter (anyone else in denial?), and an inch or so of white fluff has accumulated on tree branches and overpasses and windshields.  Here in Seattle, snow days are pretty big deals.  For one thing, it's rare for the stuff to even fall, let alone actually stick to the ground, so when it does happen, people get giddy over the novelty.  Some set to work building sculptures and ice forts, sledders hit the hills (or the streets) with everything from plastic, drug-store sleds to Lazy-Boy recliners, and some even cross-country ski to the grocery store.

Carrot Ginger Soup

This is the second post in a series focused on ginger, its health benefits, and the versatility of the root in recipes. I would love to hear your favorite uses for ginger, so please feel free to comment or email if you have something you'd like to share.  
If you missed the first post in this series, just click on the link below.
Ginger, Lemon & Honey: Tea for the Season

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Ahhuhhhhh. That's how I spell a sigh.  It's my thank-you-god-it's-finally-Friday sigh, and I'm oh-so-glad to be breathing it.  Chemistry exam weeks are always a little on the horrendously stressful side, but I've made it through, and I'm just a few hours away from a glass of red and my PJ's.  But we're not here to talk about my school schedule, we're here to throw down and get the lowdown on some Zingiber officinale.  Ginger.

I've been doing some research this week (during that time when I'm procrastinating on the quantum mechanical model) to learn some new and exciting things about ginger.  In my last post, I discussed the use of ginger for coughs and colds, but this herbal root has a few more tricks up its sleeve.  It turns out that the most common and most studied medicinal use of ginger is in the treatment of nausea.

A Real Crowd Pleaser

Me and potato salad, we go way back.  Summertime family gatherings when I was a kid were usually the venue for a traditional mayo, hard-boiled egg kind of potato salad.  The ladies in my family had it going on when it came to saladifying some spuds.  The potatoes were always cooked to the perfect tenderness, the sauce was never too heavy (if you've ever had the misfortune of putting the store-bought stuff in your mouth, you know what I mean by this), and there was just the right amount of celery and egg for texture and flavor.

We (my brothers and cousins and pretty much everyone who wasn't directly involved with cooking the meals in my family) always looked forward to potato salad.  I realize that I'm implying disdain on the part of the cooks here.  I think it was tedious to cut potatoes for 15 + people into tiny cubes.  That gave this side dish an elusiveness that put it into that "special treat" category, making it all the more desirable.

Nowadays, though, I haven't been thinking about it too much.  Mom's too many thousands of miles away to make it for me, and it's not something that I've implemented into my repertoire.  Until now.

My boyfriend, Dan, and I attended a birthday BBQ for a friend a few weeks ago where we met and fell in love (or re-discovered an existing love?) with potato salad.  This salad didn't wear the same traditional dress that my grandma's had.  No egg, no mayo anywhere to be seen.

But this potato salad was the shiz-nit (pardon my slangy French).  Big, skin-on chunks of creamy potatoes, thin slices of spicy radishes, diced red onion and celery... all coated in a light, yet intensely flavorful, grainy Dijon and honey blend with bits of parsley clinging on for dear life.

People couldn't stop talking about how freakin' tasty this potato salad was. The lip smacking and happy grunting was audible practically two blocks away.  I was secretly jealous that I hadn't made the incredible potato salad.  So later I found the recipe online that our hostess had used and brought that new potato salad to life in my own kitchen (it's aliiive!) using red-skinned and All-Blue potatoes that we had dug up from our very own garden.  It was like Holy crap! Golly! Gosh wow! in our mouths, and it was equally as exciting to look at (ooo, pretty colors).

It could be like that for you too.  Just follow these instructions.

Honey Dijon Potato Salad

adapted from this recipe on the Food Network
serves 4-6 (or two really potato-salad-crazed people)

2 - 2 1/2 lbs. small potatoes, quartered
1/4 C. honey
1/4 C. Dijon mustard
2 T. white wine vinegar
1/3 C. extra-virgin olive oil
6 radishes, thinly sliced
1/2 C. red onion, chopped
3-4 ribs celery, chopped
1 C. flat-leaf parsley, chopped
salt and pepper to taste


In a medium pot, cover potatoes with cold water and bring to a boil. Salt the water and boil potatoes until just tender, 8 - 9 minutes. Drain the potatoes and set aside.

Meanwhile, combine the honey, Dijon, and vinegar in a large bowl, then slowly whisk in the olive oil. Season with salt and pepper.

Add radishes, onions, celery, parsley and potatoes to the bowl. Toss the potato salad and adjust the seasoning.  Cover and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes to allow the flavors to mingle and get to know one another.

Serve to friends and family or horde it all to yourself.  It's up to you!

Pesto Toasts

 
There was basil for sale at last week's farmers market. A sure sign of summer, right? The rain and cold around here lately says otherwise, but I'm happy to take my summer in doses of fragrant, green, leafy herbs if that's all I can get for now.

I didn't use up the bunch of basil that I bought right away, and a few days later noticed a few brown edges amongst the bundle of green in my fridge. There was a moment of slight panic, like when I think I've lost my wallet (thumping heart, wave of heat), at the thought of all that flavor potentially wasted, but then I remembered. Pesto.

Whoever (whomever? I'm never sure) happened upon this magnificent blend of herbs and oil and garlic and cheese should be given a day. Pesto Appreciation Day, or P.A.D. Anyway, you get my drift.  I'm all about versatility in foods, and this one is definitely a winner on that front. Pizza, pasta, meats, fish, eggs, roasted veggies, sandwiches... pesto makes it all taste good. Really good.

The night I made my pesto, I decided to spread it onto toast as a simple addition to the veggie stew I was serving for dinner. Did I mention that pesto is good? Well, it didn't fail to please when smeared on toasty bread with some Parmesan sprinkles on top.

Here's the run down.

Pesto Toasts
serves 2+

2 C. basil, firmly packed
1/2 C. grated Parmesan cheese, plus extra for garnish
2/3 C. olive oil
1 large clove garlic (or more if ya like)
2 or more slices bread, toasted & cut into triangles

For the pesto:
Add basil, Parmesan, olive oil and garlic to a food processor or blender and flip that baby on.  Process until smooth, stopping to scrape down the sides several times as necessary.

Let the pesto rest for at least 10 minutes for the flavors to meld and work their magic.

To assemble the toasts:
Spread a couple of tablespoons of pesto on each toast triangle, sprinkle with some Parmesan and serve.
Easy peasy.

Store any leftover pesto in an airtight container in the fridge. Another option is to freeze it. If you actually have any leftover, that is.

*** Most recipes call for pine nuts in pesto. If you want to add them to this recipe, please feel free to give it a shot. I might have if I'd had some around, but I found this recipe to be slammin' without.

Frittata with Asparagus, Spinach & Morel Mushrooms; Cajun Homefries on the Side

I just moved into a new apartment with my sweetheart. It's a fantastic place in northeast Seattle with huge south and west-facing windows that our plants absolutely adore, a covered balcony that will soon support this year's herb garden, and a washer and dryer in the unit. Movin' on up, people. The very best, best part about our deluxe apartment in the sky (yup, top floor) is the kitchen. It's huge. OK, not 600 square feet, island in the center, breakfast nook to the side huge, but compared to the other apartment kitchens I've lived with, this one is monstrous. I could do a cartwheel in it if I were agile enough ('if' being an important, key word here).

I've wasted no time breaking in the new space. Even with finals looming in the not too distant future, I've been in the kitchen whipping up breakfasts and dinners like it's no body's business. My suppressed creativity (from all those years being squashed into tiny kitchens, no doubt) has finally burst out of me, and the result has been one delicious meal after another (if I do say so myself :). Dan and I have been oohing and ahhing for the last week and a half over the flavors and aromas that have come together in our new home. It's been a great way to settle in as we work our way through the pile of boxes stranded in the middle of the living room floor. We're almost ready for dinner guests.

One night last week I decided that we just don't eat enough brunch. The idea for a frittata and home fries soon followed that realization. Of course we had asparagus on hand, so I knew that would go in. I also had onions and spinach from the farmers market, and I happened to have an ounce of dried morels courtesy of Marx Foods left over from my winnings through the Foodie Blogroll. This meal plan was on the up and up. Here's what I concocted that night.

Frittata with Asparagus, Spinach & Morel Mushrooms with Cajun Homefries
serves 2-4

2 medium potatoes, cut into 1/2"-3/4" cubes
2 T. olive oil
1 1/2 tsp. cajun seasoning (we use Tony Chachery's)
4 large eggs, lightly beaten
1/2 tsp. salt
freshly ground black pepper
1/2 T. butter
1/2 C. (heaping) onion, diced
1 large clove garlic, minced
1/2 lb. asparagus, cut into 1/2" pieces
1 oz. dried morels, rehydrated (broth saved for another use), coarsely chopped
1 handful baby spinach leaves

For the potatoes:

Preheat the oven to 400 F.  In a medium bowl, toss potato chunks with olive oil and cajun seasoning.

Spread the potatoes in a single layer on a baking sheet, and place in the oven.

Bake for 12 minutes, remove from oven and toss on the pan. Return to the oven and bake an additional 10 minutes until potatoes are tender and golden brown.

For the frittata:

Melt the butter over medium heat in an 8" oven-safe skillet (I love my cast iron!). Add onions and saute for several minutes until beginning to turn translucent.

Add the garlic and asparagus pieces, season lightly with salt and cover the pan with a lid, leaving a space for steam to escape. Steam/saute in this manner for about 3 minutes, stirring occasionally until the asparagus is slightly tender but still crisp.


Add the morels and spinach, replace the lid and continue to saute for several more minutes, stirring occasionally, until spinach is wilted (don't overcook your veggies at this point! They should still be bright green and crisp).


Whisk salt and a few grinds of black pepper into the beaten eggs and pour over veggies in skillet. Turn heat to low, cover skillet and let cook 6-8 minutes, until set around the edges but still wet on the top. Meanwhile, preheat your oven's broiler.


Place your frittata (skillet and all) under the broiler for about 5 minutes until the top is set and golden brown in color. Keep an eye out so it doesn't burn! Remove from oven, slice into pieces and serve hot with a side of spicy homefries.

* This recipe can easily be doubled for guests or your hungry family. Use 8 or 9 eggs, and up the pan size to 10" or even 12". Also, frittatas are really versatile. Try using different veggies or mushrooms, adding bacon or incorporating some of your favorite shredded cheese. Get creative!