Cinnamon sugar popovers

I saw this recipe in the New York Sunday Times Magazine—the main reason why I get the Sunday Times in the first place and also the source that provides most of my conversational references in any given week. This is a magical trinity of things I love: cinnamon sugar, a fresh-baked item on a weekend morning, and David Lebovitz.

I especially like the Recipe Redux series, of which this is a part, when a chef is given a classic recipe from the Times, is asked to try it out and then make it new again. All David Lebovitz did here was brush the popovers in melted butter and dredge them in cinnamon sugar but, really, what else was needed? Popovers are pretty good by themselves—they're also easy, and it would have been a shame to get rid of that ease just to make them fancier. This is the perfect addition of more, without actually having to do very much more. The recipe is available right here, complete with in-focus photographs, unlike the ones offered by me on this blog. Katie, your photos are wonderfully in focus.

Naked popovers.

Popovers are kind of miraculous in that you start off with an egg-flour-milk goo and put your trust in the recipe, your oven, and your willpower to not open the oven door while baking*, all to be rewarded by air-filled dough nuggets of fantastic. They do, however, have a tendency to stick to even greased non-stick pans. This is something I always forget and end up prying popovers from the pan when, really, I should just overgrease the pan. Next time.


*My willpower on this particular issue used to be quite low until I found out how much heat was lost when oven doors open: lots. How much, you ask? 25-50º. WOW. Imagine if you were a popover in a hot oven, just trying to bake to perfection, and somebody kept opening the oven door to peek in and making you terribly cold. That would be annoying, right?

Macarons, part 2

Katie--you are a blogging machine lately! I suppose you're finishing up your spring break, though...I did some cooking myself on my spring break. Maybe you can guess it, but I made macarons again. Partly because I had 6 egg whites left from the Meyer lemon tart and partly because I thought I could improve. I was wrong.

My first mistake, let me tell you a quick story about it. I went to the store to buy almond flour, only to find that it's rather expensive. $13 per pound! So, since I had time on my hands, it being spring break and all, I thought: no matter, I'll just make my own almond flour. I went to go buy almonds and had a choice between blanched and unblanched. The blanched were about $3 more per pound. No matter, I thought, it'll be good for me to figure out how to blanch almonds.

Um, no. I spent hours, literally, peeling pounds of almonds. And while that was a great opportunity to catch up on episodes of This American Life and stories from The Moth, it was a ginormous waste of time. So, now we all know not to be idiotic and, instead, pony up the extra money to buy the blanched almonds or, maybe, just buy some almond flour.

The good news is that now I can tell you how to blanch almonds. Boil some water and pour it over your skin-on almonds. Let it sit about a minute. Drain. Now the skin will peel off easily--it's delightful. If you only have to peel 15 almonds.

The method to my madness: almonds go from right to left, losing their skins in the process.
Right-handed people will probably go from left to right--as if I, a left-handed person, care that a righty will be momentarily inconvenienced by left-handed instructions. (I don't. You people have it too easy. But a tip's a tip.)

The finished product: whole and then ground
(after having been dried out in a 250 degree oven for about 20 minutes).

The other thing I learned: don't put moist things in macarons because they get squishy. Sure, it seems obvious now, but it also seemed like a great idea to put a white chocolate-strawberry mousse in the macarons. No, find something drier.

Purple Basil Pesto

This morning I decided it was finally time to "harvest" some of the herbs in my aerogarden. I woke up to find the purple basil starting to droop -- the plant had grown so tall and the top had become so heavy with leaves, the stems were no longer able to fully support it. Pictured below are some of the leaves I cut off:


Mariana -- I decided to use your recommendation and turn the purple basil into what I assumed would be purple pesto using the Cook's Illustrated recipe for Classic Pesto as a guide. I alternated between being worried that a darkly colored pesto would be unappetizing and being excited at the prospect of a deep amethyst-colored pesto. Except, when processing the basil in the food processor, the mixture quickly turned green:


The picture doesn't accurately represent the color of the pesto -- it's a dreary day here in Portland and the lighting isn't great in my apartment (I'll swap the photos out for new ones if it gets sunny soon). This batch of pesto isn't as quite vibrantly green as pesto I've made with Italian basil, it's definitely green and not nearly as dark as depicted in the photo. And it's really good. It is easily the best pesto I've ever made, though I attribute that to having the opportunity to use freshly cut herbs as opposed to the recipe. I, however, did include the recipe I used which is loosely based off the Cook's Illustrated recipe. The adaptations I made were due to necessity (i.e. shortage of basil), simplicity (I didn't want to dirty more bowls than necessary) and forgetfulness (I forgot to reduce the amount of pine nuts and cheese despite the fact I was using less basil), so you might want to explore other recipes as well and see what works for you. Having said this, I've been really enjoying this version.

Pesto with Purple Basil
adapted from Cook's Illustrated The New Best Recipe book

• 1 1/2 cups packed purple basil leaves (other basil would be fine, of course)
• 1/4 cup pine nuts, toasted (my favorite method of toasted pine nuts is placing them in the mircowave for 10 to 15 second intervals until they are toasted. Easy, quick and far less chance of burning them)
  
• 3 garlic cloves, finely chopped
  
• 1/2 tsp salt (plus more to taste)
• 1/4 parmesan cheese
• 5 tablespoons olive oil

Place the basil leaves in a sealed zip lock bag and pound or firmly press on the bag with a heavy object to bruise all of the leaves. Set this aside.

Put the pine nuts, garlic, and 1/2 tsp salt in the food processor and pulse until combined and somewhat like the consistency of sand. Throw in the cheese and the basil leaves and continue to process until combined. Add the oil in a steady stream while the food processor is on, continuing to process until all the oil has been added and the consistency of the mixture is smooth. Remember to check the sides of the food processor bowl throughout this whole process, scraping down the sides when necessary. Add salt to taste and transfer to serving dish or whatever dish you plan on storing it in. Cook's Illustrated says its good for about 3 days when stored in the fridge, though in the past I've kept homemade pesto for about 5 days.

Food-Related Money Saving Tips

I always love a bargain and being in grad school has really emphasized my thrifty side. A good deal can make my day. There have been two bargains that I've been particularly excited about this week and thought I'd pass these tips on to you!

Neither tip is revolutionary, but the first one borders on embarrassing. About a year ago I joined The Good Cook. This is basically like those CD clubs that I remember being popular in middle school in which you would get 10 CDs for a penny with the agreement to buy 4 more in the next year or something. Except this is with cookbooks -- the deal is you get four cookbooks for a dollar each with the stipulation that you have to buy two more within the year. I'm really not entirely sure why I joined as I usually dismiss these types of deals as being scams. Surprisingly, it's worked out quite well -- I've received eight hardcover cookbooks for under $60 including shipping! The selection is decent, I've always been able to find something interesting though I'm somewhat of a cookbook junkie :). While with the CD clubs you had to return a postcard to decline your "featured selection," this club allows you to reply online which greatly reduces the chances of receiving an unwanted book in the mail. The one caveat is that one or two of the books have seemed slightly below the quality I would expect to find in a book store. Overall, however, I've been happy -- it's cheesy, but an inexpensive way to bulk up my cookbook collection.


My second tip is based on a discovery I made this week. I've loved the bulk spice bins at grocery stores for a while and find them particularly useful when I'm trying out a recipe that calls for multiple spices that I don't own, especially if I am unlikely to use up the entire jar anytime soon. This week I noticed vanilla beans in the bulk section at the Whole Foods and decided to try it out. The vanilla bean cost 13 cents! I was so excited about this price -- the minimum I've seen vanilla beans for before this was $3.00. Plus, about five feet down the isle in this same grocery store vanilla beans were selling for $6.99. I went back today, worried that my previous purchase was somehow a fluke. While the price was somewhat more expensive (52 cents) it was still a fantastic deal. The above photo shows my vanilla beans and some other spices I purchased for an upcoming recipe -- the first bean I purchased is being used for this recipe and the second one I bought today is already being put to use to make vanilla sugar!

Blood Orange Tart II

Mariana -- I was so happy when saw you had made a blood orange tart. I had seen the same recipe posted on smitten kitchen and been very tempted by it especially as I love citrus. Like you, however, I was a bit uneasy regarding the baked citrus aspect of the tart -- it seems potentially...dry. Though from the sound of it, I'm a bigger fan of blood oranges than you. I agree that sometimes they can be on the sour side and am also annoyed at the lack of juiciness I've at times encountered in this type of orange. But when they're good, I can't get enough, so I wasn't ready to give up on the idea of a blood orange tart.

After a little bit of searching, I found a recipe on the website epicurious (originally published in Bon Appetit). This recipe appealed to me because the tart is filled with a blood orange and lemon curd. I love lemon curd and was sure that the addition of blood orange would only make it better. The tart is topped with unbaked, sectioned blood oranges. The finished product is beautiful. And tasty! I would guess that this recipe would even appeal to non-blood orange fans :). Any sourness in the oranges (though my batch of oranges was not particularly sour) is offset by the sweetness of the curd.

I pretty much followed the original recipe I found on epicurious, so I just included the link here. Instead of the caramel sauce this recipe called for, I used the caramel recipe you posted earlier this month. And you're right, it's pretty terrific. And easy to make! I was skeptical of the pairing of blood oranges and caramel, but the caramel really did add something special.

Here are a couple of things I learned in the process:

• You are right (again). Sectioning oranges is a pain! But I think it's an important skill to learn. Sectioning oranges can really improve a recipe... it can be frustrating to bite into an otherwise delicious fruit salad and get some of the bitter pith or other chewy part of the orange.
• The next time I make it, I'll load up on the oranges. The recipe calls for 8, but an extra 1-2 oranges might prevent any space between the slices on the final product. The oranges I used were quite small, so this may have contributed to the lack of slices.
• Unlike some of the reviewers on epicurious, I had no problem getting the curd to set. However, I transported the tart to my brother's apartment and it was somewhat of a mess! The curd almost melted. So, I'd recommend chilling the tart until right before you are ready to serve it.
• I'd also recommend waiting until just before you serve it to arrange the slices on top. I arranged them ahead of time and while not a disaster, the oranges slowly began to sink into the curd. Not a deal breaker, but not nearly as pretty as when I first assembled the tart.

This recipe is good and the curd by itself is pretty awesome. If you wanted to avoid the sectioning of the oranges, I imagine whipped cream, raspberries, blackberries or strawberries would make great substitutes for the garnish.

I like leeks

I like leeks so much, in fact, that I don't know why I don't eat them more. I could go into a whole thing about how my grandmother uses leeks all the time and her soups are so great, but since I don't really have a specific story about her and leeks it would just sound like me gushing...kind of boring.

I could also go into more explanation about leeks--for example, the obligatory mention of how amazingly filthy leeks are (because, really, they are and that's why it's always mentioned--so much mud inside!!)--or how they're members of the onion family, or how you should mostly use the white part.

I'll limit myself to a tip: instead of throwing out the parts of the leek you don't use, like the bottoms or the green tops, put them in the freezer and use them next time you make stock.

This recipe is great because I get to do two things I like: use leeks AND white wine. It turns out that putting white wine in some dishes is fantastic. Soup, for example. This, for another. If you don't believe me, try cooking this without the white wine. Then make it with the white wine and you'll say, "A-ha! I totally understand what the white wine adds to this!: Complexity and lightness." Or other adjectives that belong on the backs of wine bottles.

If I were going to make this again, which I probably will, I might consider making my creamy leeks and then putting them into a baking dish, sprinkling some breadcrumbs on top, and popping it under the broiler for a minute or two to make it crunchy.

Leeks whole and, then, julienned.

Creamy leeks
Adapted from Joy of Cooking, 1997 edition

2 1/2 tbsp butter
4 c. julienned leeks (I used five medium leeks)
1 c. water, with 1/2 tsp salt and dried thyme each mixed in (or 1 c. chicken stock and dried thyme)
2 tbsp heavy cream
a bit of nutmeg

Melt butter and, once melted, add leeks. Cook 2-3 minutes on medium heat, but don't let them get brown.

Add water/chicken stock and cover. Let this simmer until the leeks are tender, 5-7 minutes. Then uncover, look at how much liquid is in your pot, increase heat to medium-high, add white wine, and cook until that liquid is reduced by half, 10-15 minutes.

Whatever you do, don't be afraid to completely disregard the recommended cooking times. It takes effort to overcook a leek, yet an undercooked leek isn't that fantastic. They should be soggy.

Once liquid is adequately reduced, add the heavy cream and nutmeg. Joy of Cooking says to "cook until the cream is absorbed." I have no idea what this means because the cream is being added to something that's already wet, yet "absorb" is the sort of action that a dry thing would do. I stirred until the cream was thoroughly mixed with the rest of the dish.

Season with salt and pepper.

Meyer lemon tart

I've been seeing recipes for Meyer lemons around for a while, but not so many Meyer lemons. So, when I was at Trader Joe's and saw them being sold for a reasonable price I bought them, not knowing what I would make in particular, but knowing that I had a recipe or two waiting for this exact occasion.

How many citrus tarts can a person make in a season? I think my limit is two, but don't make any promises. I like this much better than the blood orange tart because I like the taste of the lemons better. But...there's a lot of texture going on here. You use the whole Meyer lemon, and it's kind of rad that you can do that because peeling and sectioning is a pain, but then you have all the lemon parts in the tart and...I think it's clear I'm not completely crazy about this tart. I like it as much as I like a mediocre romantic comedy: I'm glad I experienced it once (because I love movies, right? And lemons), but won't go out of my way to experience it again.

The interesting thing about this tart is the cornmeal dough for the crust. It's different from other doughs because it is not flaky in the least. Making it is easier than regular pie crust because you just cream the butter with the sugar rather than getting it in to pea-sized chunks that will melt into glorious flakes of pie pastry, but it has the cornmeal in it to make the flavor a bit more interesting. It's also, I found, not quite as easy to work with as regular pie dough: it cracks and isn't very pliable. I think it might be more appropriate without so much sugar, maybe with some fresh herbs thrown in, and used as the crust for something savory, like a quiche.

Meyer lemon tart with cornmeal crust
Adapted from Martha Stewart

The crust:
6 tbsp butter, softened
1/2 c. sugar
2 yolks
1 c. flour
1/3 c. cornmeal
1/2 tsp. salt

In a small bowl, mix the flour, cornmeal, and salt together.

In a bigger bowl, cream butter and sugar together, about 2 minutes. Then add egg yolks, mix just to combine. Now add the flour mixture. Mix just until it comes together in a ball. If it's not coming together, add a bit of water. I had to add about 2 tablespoons to get my dough wet enough.

Flatten dough into a disk, wrapped in plastic. Let chill until firm.

The filling:
4 Meyer lemons, sliced paper thin
3/4 c. sugar
4 yolks
1/4 tsp. salt

Combine lemons and sugar, let them sit together all night, refrigerated.

The next day (or a few hours later), stir in egg yolks and salt. Now this mixture is ready to fill the crust. So easy!

Roll out the crust to fit your pan. There isn't a ton of filling here so there's not really a worry about overflow. I used a 9" springform pan.

Pour filling into the crust. If you want, make an egg wash for the crust. I just added a splash of milk to the cup that had the egg yolks in it because there was a bit of yolk residue, stirred it together, and brushed with that.

Chill the filled crust for 40 minutes.

Heat oven to 350 degrees. Bake 40 minutes. It's probably best to bake the tart on a cookie sheet because there was a bit of ooziness. And that just makes a mess in an oven.

I had some almond slivers lying around and sprinkled them on top before baking.
Ms. Stewart also recommends pine nuts. Your choice.

Aerogarden Update

One of the fun things about returning from trips is getting to see how much my plants have grown in my absence. For some reason, my plants seem to flourish when I'm away. When I returned from Christmas break, my previously lackluster christmas cactus (which had never shown any signs of flowering) was covered in hot pink blooms. Likewise, two paperwhite bulbs were in full blossom. This time around my aerogarden had made remarkable progress in just 4 days.


I had started to worry that my plants weren't going to grow enough so that I would be able to use significant amounts in recipes, but as you can see this isn't going to be a problem. And now I'm starting to worry about how I'm going to use some of the herbs before I leave for Tucson in a couple of days (it seems like it need some trimming). The purple basil in particular is doing well...it's hard to take a photo without the basil dominating the picture!


Do you have any good recipes using mint, chives, dill, purple basil, or my current favorite, thyme?

African Peanut Soup

Hi Mariana -- sorry for being such a blog slacker this past week! In my defense, I was at a conference in Rhode Island which ended up taking a lot of my time and energy, but I'm excited to make up for it in the next week.

I'm suspicious of the authenticity and tastiness of recipes that are named after entire continents. So I probably wouldn't have tried this soup if my friend Elizabeth hadn't ordered it at the awesome coffee shop/bakery Crema which is conveniently located down the street from me (Jane and Michael Stern even mentioned this place on the Splendid Table). But I'm so glad Eliz ordered this soup because it's terrific.

It took me a while to find a recipe for this soup and each time I prepare it I alter it slightly in an attempt to make it more akin to the version I order at Crema. The recipe calls for tasty ingredients like red peppers, onions, brown rice, and chicken (sometimes I substitute tofu for the chicken). The addition of peanut butter makes the soup rich and creamy, almost like a stew or curry. I like to squeeze some lime juice over it just before I eat it -- the lime adds some nice flavor and cuts through the richness (by the way, to my knowledge, the lime is in no way the traditional way to eat this soup. I just picked up the habit of putting lime on soup when I was living in Mexico. When I was living down there, however, I also started putting ketchup on my pizza, so take this recommendation with a grain of salt). And, like with most soups, I just add anything I have laying around that I want to use up!

AFRICAN PEANUT SOUP
adapted from All Recipes

• 2 med. onions, chopped

• 2 lg. red peppers, diced

• 2 tbsp. oil

• 4 to 5 garlic cloves, mashed

• 1 (28 oz.) can tomatoes, coarsely chopped

• (I've also added 1 shredded carrot and 1 celery rib when I've had them in the fridge)

• 8 c. chicken stock (I think vegetable stock would work as well)

• 1/2 tsp. pepper

• 1/2 tsp. crushed red hot peppers (I like things spicy so I added almost 1 teaspoon)

• 1/2 c. cooked brown rice

• 1 1/2 c. shredded cooked chicken or 1 package tofu, cut into 1/2 inch cubes

• 2/3 c. peanut butter

• salt to taste

• Limes, quartered, for serving (optional)

In large pot, saute onions, peppers and garlic in the oil over a moderate to high heat. Continue to saute until onions have started to brown.

Add the tomatoes, chicken stock, pepper, chili pepper flakes, and any other vegetables you've decided to use. Simmer, uncovered, over low heat for about 1 hour.

After an hour, mix in the rice and tofu/chicken, simmer 10 to 15 minutes. Add the peanut butter and mix until it is fully dissolved into the soup. Add salt, pepper and more hot chili pepper flakes to taste (it's especially likely to need salt if you've used unsalted peanut butter). Bring soup to a simmer and then it's ready to serve! This keeps in the fridge for several days.

Vodka infusions, I

My mother is not a big drinker. Because of this, her liquor cabinet is full of very old things and, sometimes, I get to relieve her of some of these things. It's in this way that I've gotten tequila for a party and spent a difficult week with the support of Johnnie Walker Black Label. And, a few months ago, my mother decided it was time to get rid of the two very old bottles of vodka in her liquor cabinet and that the best way to do it was to give it to me. I'm not partial to vodka, but also am not prone to making the mistake of passing up free things, so I took them, put them in my freezer, and started getting annoyed at all the space they take up (space which needs to be freed up for my ice cream maker).

And I was left with the question: what to do with horrible old vodka when I'm a person who doesn't even like vodka? INFUSIONS.

Last year I made a bacon-infused bourbon and had excellent success (is that redundant? It doesn't matter, the bourbon was that good. I know that it takes a little while to get used to the idea, but make sure to give yourself that while before making final judgment on it). The bourbon was only experienced neat once, and that wasn't such a success, so it always got made into old fashioneds. So, I already have some good history with liquor infusing.

I've made two infusions here, with some advice from a grad school buddy. One, the limoncello, is meant to be drunk straight. The other, basil-cucumber-peppercorn, is destined for some bloody marys.

And, you know what? These need to sit a month before they're ready. I won't know if they're good or not until then--and therefore won't be posting the recipes until then either. Wait for it.

Handy parchment tip!

This isn't a real post, but this struck me as one of the handiest tips I've seen in a long time. Cutting parchment paper to the size of a cake pan is astoundingly tricky, don't you think?

Macarons, try 1

Best afternoon snack ever: Earl Grey tea
and homemade lemon buttercream macarons.

Querida Katie,

Every time I find myself beating egg whites to stiff peaks, I think: I can’t believe people used to do this by hand! Because—and I’m a bit ashamed to admit it—if electric mixers didn’t exist, I totally wouldn’t go through the trouble. I’d buy it: mousse, meringues, macarons, whatever. But, when you get to the finished product, it becomes clear why someone without the benefit of an electric mixer would spend tens of minutes and unknown forearm pain to make whatever is in question: the thing is so delicious that it's totally worth it.

And so it is with macarons. This is my first batch, and I was expecting a disaster because, it turns out, the more you read about macarons on the internet, the harder they seem to make. There’s a lot of good information out there, but most of it filled me with hesitation. Except for the beautiful photos. Despite the scariness of the information, I think I’m going to join the cult of the macaron and make them rather often and with different flavors.

Here's what nobody else on the interwebs is saying: macarons aren’t that hard and aren’t that much work, if you (1) don’t have a hard time being picky and precise and (2) are able to plan ahead. And if you aren’t the sort of person who is willing to be those things, I can imagine that macarons would be a gigantic headache.

What a macaron tastes like: sweet and nutty, but without the sweet being overpowering. It’s sweet with character.

What a macaron feels like, and this, for me, is the major draw: imagine you were the sort of person who, in kindergarten, liked to let glue dry on your skin so that you could have the pleasure of pulling it off. The top of the macaron gives a pleasure not unlike that—a thickness that seems to be covering something and could be easily removed. And then the middle: it’s mostly air, but as if air had somehow become a goo. A macaron is like a cave: the top is like the mountain that is hiding the cave inside, and then the middle is humid and thick and rich and you know it’s full of air but it seems somehow too full to be full of air. Then the bottom is provides a nice firmness and crisp to offset the gooey air of the middle. So the macaron, in total, is a staggering combination of chewy and crispy. When it’s a sandwich all this textural goodness is squared, with a delicious creamy filling in between.

the mysterious inside of the macaron

They look deceivingly plain, I know.

I'm not going to post an actual recipe because, really, there are plenty of good ones out there. I found that this was a handy centralized location of macaron knowledge. Since I don't have a scale in my kitchen—which, I think, is ridiculous, especially since I like baking and weighing things makes it all more precise—I used a recipe with American measurements here.

These photos are actually 2 separate occasions of macaron-making. The first time I used leftover caramel sauce (from my previous post) as the filling—that was great. The second time I had some swiss meringue buttercream and mixed that in with some lemon curd—also delicious. Really, I think it may be hard to go wrong with macaron filling.

In lieu of a recipe, here are some of my observations:

• I let my egg whites age for the full three days. While the American in me thought that was gnarly, the Belgian in me reasoned that if people have been using this technique for hundreds of years and keep on eating macarons without dying of salmonella poisoning, then I probably wouldn't die either. (And I was right. I didn't die.) That said, I probably wouldn't let my egg whites sit out for three days in the Arizona summer.
  
• I would buy almond flour. I decided to grind my own and didn't use blanched almonds, so there were brown plecks in the batter from the almond skin. Also: a bunch of almonds in a food processor is astonishingly loud.
  
• I had better results letting the macarons develop a skin and sit for an hour between being piped into place and put in the oven. But I let some sit for more than an hour and the results were not good--the top got all crackly when baking (you can see that in the macarons at the top of the post.)
  

Marinated Tofu Sandwich

Hey Mariana -- it has been a crazy week for me school-wise...I'm looking forward to posting more frequently when things calm down a bit. Because of this craziness, I haven't been cooking as frequently and am mostly eating quick and easy meals. I've started to think that tofu is possibly the perfect grad student food. It's cheap, easy to prepare, tasty and, depending on the method of preparation (i.e. not deep fried), it's healthy. While tofu should be a stable of my diet, I don't prepare it nearly enough.

In an effort to remedy this situation, I decided to make Deborah Madison's recipe for a hot mustard marinated tofu sandwich. I know, two recipes in a row from this book is excessive, but this simple meal is ideal for busy weeks. The marinade took me about 5 minutes to prepare, I let the tofu sit in the marinade overnight in the fridge, and then quickly fried the slices of tofu this evening when I was ready for dinner. Super easy and I have extra tofu leftover to eat tomorrow! The sandwich was tasty, but when I make it again, I'd experiment with marinade -- fresh ginger and sesame oil might be nice additions and a peanut or coconut milk-based marinade would also be super tasty.


Marinated Tofu Sandwich
adapted from Deborah Madison's Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone

Hot Mustard Marinade

• 2 teaspoons minced garlic
• 2 teaspoons grated onion
• 3 tablespoons hot mustard
• 1/2 teaspoons chili powder (Madison calls for cayenne, I used ground chipotle.)
• 3 tablespoons oil (here Madison called for roasted peanut oil, I didn't have any around so I used vegetable oil with a teaspoon of peanut butter thinking it would add a nutty taste)
• 3 Tablespoons balsamic vinegar or Chinese black rice vinegar.
• 1 1/2 tablespoons unsulfured molasses
• salt to taste
  

Mix all the ingredients in a small to medium sized bowl. Make sure the bowl is large enough to accommodate a block of tofu that will marinate in this mixture.

The Sandwich

• 1 block firm or extra firm tofu
• The hot mustard marinade (or any other marinade you'd like to try)
• 1 tablespoon vegetable or canola oil
• Bread
• Condiments for the sandwich (Madison recommends mustard, mayo, lettuce, tomato and some chopped cilantro. I used some orange and yellow sweet peppers. Crispy chopped veggies like carrots and cucumbers would be good, as would roasted vegetables like eggplant.)

Cut the tofu into 4 to 8 slices and toss in the marinade, making sure to coat well. Madison recommends at least 15 minutes in the marinade -- I left the tofu in the mixture overnight (in the fridge of course).

When it's sandwich time, heat the oil in a skillet and add the tofu. Cover the pan and cook over medium-high heat. Brown the tofu on both sides. I added extra marinade which made a nice sauce.

Once the tofu is browned, turn off the heat and let cool for a couple of minutes. When the tofu has cooled briefly, assemble the sandwich to your liking.

Blood orange tart with mind-blowing caramel sauce

Katie, my friend, your gratin looks amazing. The new issue of Cooking Light has an article on making fresh pasta and this, coupled with your success, tempt me. I'd be more tempted, though, if school weren't killing me this semester. This is also the reason I haven't posted in a while.

Even so, no matter how busy I am, I still eat, which means I still cook. But, I made this recipe last month because, although I've been eating and cooking, I haven't been documenting it. This recipe comes from Smitten Kitchen: right here. I love this website because it shows me things that I didn't even know I wanted to eat. This tart is an example. My first thought, on looking at it was: baked citrus? Ew! But it looked so pretty, and Deb was so exultant about it, and then blood oranges were on special at my grocery store, and it seemed like the perfect storm for making it.

Except that I don't like blood oranges.

Still, I didn't let that stop me, although I did invite friends over to eat it, in anticipation of not liking it. And, proving that I'm old enough to know myself, I did NOT like it precisely because I don't like blood oranges--they're too sour for me. But the caramel sauce covers that up pretty well, and I had a ton of it left after the tart was long gone so I was happy.

Here are things I didn't know:

• Sectioning oranges takes FOREVER, and is definitely the most time consuming part of the recipe
• I didn’t read the recipe carefully enough and ended up messing up the tart dough, and then it was still fine, although a bit disintegrated at the edges. I put in too much sugar but I think this was balanced out well enough by the sourness of the blood oranges. Plus, it made the tart dough a bit crispier than usual and I liked that a lot.
  
• I put the butter into the caramelized sugar cold, and this brought down the temperature of the mixture, which meant it separated a bit when I added the room temperature cream. I turned the heat back on medium and it all melted and came together beautifully in the end. Five years ago I would have panicked and quit which, I suppose, means I can learn from my mistakes.

Blood orange tart and excellent caramel sauce
Adapted from Smitten Kitchen (and by "adapted" I mean: I meant to follow the recipe and didn't quite)

For the dough:
1 cup all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 stick unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch pieces and COLD
3 tablespoons ice water

1. In a food processor, combine flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt together. My mistake: putting in ALL the sugar. The recipe actually says to just add 2 tablespoons of sugar at this point, leaving the rest to go on top of the tart.

2. Add the butter, and pulse until it looks like a bunch of small pea-sized chunks. Add ice water, with food processor running, just until the dough comes together. I find that I often have to add more water because I live in the middle of the desert and my flour is touch drier than it is in the rest of the country.

3. Once dough has come together, knead it a very small amount, flatten it into a disk, wrap that in plastic, and put it in the freezer for at least 30 minutes.

For the tart:
your just-made dough
8-10 blood oranges
1 egg yolk mixed with 2 tablespoons water (this is the egg wash)
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1/4 cup sugar

1. Roll out the tart dough until it's 1/4 inch thick. You'll find that this should be done on a floured surface. Once it's the size you'd like it to be, transfer the dough to a piece of parchment paper on a cookie sheet--and I recommend using a rimmed one to keep your oven from getting messy when all the juice oozes out of the oranges during the baking process.

2. Section most of your oranges, but cut some in slices to go on top of the tart.

3. Place sectioned oranges in the middle of the dough, leaving 2 inches all around (because this is the part that you're going to fold over it). Fold the orange-free dough over, making a beautiful, rustic-looking crostata. Place pieces of butter on top of oranges. Now, place your orange slices on top of this, sprinkle with sugar, brush the egg wash on the pastry and then! Put it all in the freezer for at least 4 hours.

Folded and dotted with butter; with slices, sugar, and egg wash: ready for the freezer

4. Once the freezing part is done, put your oven to 375 degrees. Bake for 1 hour and 15 minutes.


For the mind-blowing caramel sauce:
1 cup sugar
3 ounces (6 tablespoons) salted butter, at room temperature
1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons heavy cream, at room temperature

1. Using a large pot, melt sugar over medium heat, stirring or shaking the pot to make sure it heats evenly.

2. When the sugar turns a dark, copper color--and you're getting afraid because cooking with sugar is sometimes terrifying and you're thinking: who am I to be making caramel?--add the butter all at once, while keeping the heat on, still at medium. This is where I messed up and turned the heat off--don't do it!

3. Once the butter is nicely stirred in, THEN turn off the heat, and add cream. I think, if this recipe is followed (which I didn't do, so I'm guessing), the sauce will get quite large at this point--hence the large pot. Whisk until the sauce is smooth. Try and let it cool before finding out how addictive it is.

Done, and plated

Tossed Spinach Lasagne and Goat Cheese Gratin

Hey Mariana! In January, my mom was nice enough to ship my heavy pasta maker up to Portland from Tucson. I'm not sure how long I've had this, maybe about 15 years and my best guess is that I've used it about...twice. I have vague memories of a really messy and discouraging pasta making session in the 8th or 9th grade that probably scared me into early semi-retirement from pasta making. Surprisingly, despite 15 years of sitting in storage, this machine is as good as new and despite my previous experience, I absolutely could not have been more excited to use it.

I decided to make spinach pasta noodles and use the noodles in a tasty sounding recipe for "Tossed Spinach Lasagne and Goat Cheese Gratin" from Deborah Madison's Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone. I love goat cheese and the paper thin pasta noodles in this recipe remind me a bit of recipes I've seen for Thousand Layer Lasagne in terms of the texture. The delicate noodles coupled with the filling seem almost pastry-like. Plus, this recipe also called for thyme -- a perfect chance to use the herbs from my aerogarden!



Making the pasta noodles was sooooo much easier than I remembered it...I prepared the dough with my food processor since I needed to use it anyway to pulverize the spinach. The dough was a little dry seeming (to me, but maybe that's how its supposed to be!), but the addition of some olive oil helped me to crank out tissue paper-like noodles.

The spinach was a great addition to the pasta -- it turned the noodles a lovely shade of green. For anyone who hates spinach, I could barely taste the spinach. The noodles would also be great with veggies like asparagus, mushrooms, and onions.

I did lighten the recipe for the gratin slightly by substituting half and half for heavy cream, cutting back on the cheese and leaving out some of the butter. I didn't miss these extras at all (in fact, I'd probably cut back more), but they might be nice if you were going to serve this at a potluck or special occasion. Though the gratin could easily be a main course, it would also make an awesome side dish to a roast chicken.


The end result is pictured above. The top gets nice and crispy and if you look closely you can see all the delicate layers!

Tossed Spinach Lasagne and Goat Cheese Gratin
adapted from Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone by Deborah Madison

There are 3 main parts to this recipe -- making the noodles, the bechamel sauce, and combining everything together.

The Spinach Pasta

While the pasta making is super easy (especially making the dough), it is a bit time consuming so make sure to allot plenty of time for rolling out the noodles.

• 2 cups lightly packed spinach (make sure its washed and dried)
  
• 2 large eggs
• 2 cups flour
• 2 teaspoons olive oil or water, if needed (because of the extra water in the spinach this step might not be needed. However, my dough was so dry I needed more than this amount just to get it through the pasta machine.)
  
• 1.4 tsp salt

First, puree the spinach and the eggs together. When I made this, I then added the salt to the egg/spinach mixture and pulsed a few times. After the salt was blended, I added the 2 cups of flour until pea-sized bits of dough formed. After this, I added the oil. [As a warning, this is NOT the order the recipe suggests combining the ingredients in -- Madison calls for the flour and salt to be added to the food processor, then the oil/water and then the egg/spinach mixture. My puree was already in the food processor so I just combined the ingredients in the order outlined above. But, like I said before my dough was extremely dry and this might have been why.]

Pour the mixture onto the counter and knead until it forms a smooth ball, adding flour if too wet or oil if too dry. Madison points out that "Although a wet dough is easy to knead, it's harder to handle later on because it will stick to itself when you roll it out. Make it soft enough to knead with ease, but try not to make it overly moist. A dry dough will smooth out as you pass it through the pasta machine." Cover and let set for 15 minutes. Then roll out the dough according to instructions for your pasta machine. Try to roll it out as thin as possible!

The Herb Bechamel

• 2 cups milk
• 1/4 cup finely diced onion
• 1 bay leaf, 3 parsley spris, 2 thyme leaves
• 3 1/2 tablespoons butter
• 3 1/2 tablespoons flour
• salt and pepper
• freshly grated nutmeg
• 1/3 - 1/2 cup freshly chopped herbs such as chervil, thyme, tarragon, or parsely. I used a mixture of parsely and thyme.
  

Heat the milk with the onion and aromatics in a heavy saucepan over medium heat. Turn it off just before it boils and set aside to steep for 15 minutes.

In another saucepan, over medium heat melt the butter and add the flour. Stir this mixture constantly for 2 minutes. This thick paste is called the roux. Strain the milk and whisk into the roux until the entire mixture is thickened and the sauce starts to boil. Then, turn the heat until very low and cook for 25-30 minutes (a double boiler is also an option here). Add salt, pepper, and nutmeg to taste, along with the herbs (the goat cheese is added to this mixture while it is still warm. See below for additional instructions).


The Gratin

• 1 pound fresh spinach pasta (cut into strips that are more or less 2 inches wide and 8 inches long)
  
• 2 cups Herb Bechamel
• 1/2 cup heavy cream (I used half and half which worked well. If you wanted to lighten it further, I think milk would work just fine)
• 8 ounces goat cheese
• Salt and Pepper
  
• 1 tablespoon chopped thyme
• 1/2 cup freshly parmesan
  
• 2 tablespoons cold butter, thinly shaved (I skipped this step completely)

Preheat oven to 375 degrees and lightly butter a gratin or casserole dish. The original recipe called for a 3 quart dish, but I only had a 2 quart dish and I used that without any problem. Also, I didn't butter the dish.

First make the pasta and bechamel sauce outlined in the previous directions.

Once the sauce is completed add the cream/half and half/milk and goat cheese to the sauce. The cheese probably won't completely melt into the sauce its fine if there are little bits of goat cheese in the bechamel.

Parboil the noodles for 1 minute in salted water. Transfer the strips to cold water and then drain them. The trick here is keeping the noodles from sticking together.

Toss the noodles with the sauce, thyme, salt and pepper to taste and all but 2 tablespoons of the Parmesan. Once these ingredients are combined, arrange them in the dish you are going to bake them in and cover with remaining cheese and shaved butter (like I said before, I skipped the butter, but it might help to make a nice crust on top of the dish). Bake uncovered for 30-40 minutes, until the top is a lightly browned