Shakshuka

DSC_1359

This week I’ve been hanging with my dear friend Sara. We met in junior high when we attended different schools but the same youth group. She wasn’t yet my friend when our youth director showed us The Sixth Sense as a treat and I called my parents to take me home (still haven’t seen it). But we became friends in spite of my scaredy-cat tendencies. And we’ve stayed friends for over half our lives. She’s spent the week staying on a nest of sleeping bags in my living room, where we’ve occupied our time taking Buzzfeed quizzes, arguing about movies, and taking long walks around the lakes. And cooking.

Sara, my oldest friend, my penpal for almost 10 years, and owner of a key to my parent’s house, has Celiac’s disease. And so we’ve spent a lot of time in the kitchen together cooking and eating together. We went out for arepas one night and Italian another. There have been occasional impromptu dances to Earth, Wind, and Fire. She organized all the magnetic poetry on the fridge by type of speech. We made these beans and tomato sauce, threw together a lentil soup, and tried out some earl grey macaroons (verdict- delicious, but not very earl grey-y…). And there was shakshuka. Because what better way to celebrate a close friend’s visit than with tomatoes and peppers and onions and eggs?

Shakshuka is a North African dish that’s essentially eggs poached in a sauce of tomato and peppers. As with all straightforward sounding dishes, there’s a world of variations available. I found my recipe in Yotam Ottolenghi’s brilliant (and classic) book Plenty, which may be the first cookbook I ever obsessed over. I know I’m not alone in this. I used to carry Plenty around with me in my purse JUST IN CASE someone hadn’t seen it yet. I was insufferable. I still am.

I’ve heard the mark of friendship isn’t liking each other but understanding each other. I think there’s some truth to that. But when you’re lucky you have people who like and understand you. I’m lucky. I have friends like Sara, who doesn’t laugh or roll her eyes when I decide that the perfect writing outfit is leather leggings and Aaron’s sweater. She drags me bra shopping and makes sure to bring backup sizes. We debate what makes Pride and Prejudice a great novel, the love story or the social commentary, and still swoon together when Elizabeth and Darcy touch hands. We annoy each other with our music choices, and then both belt out Backstreet Boys in the car. There are many gifts of friendship, but one of the best is that it can make you more open to your shared joys and sorrows.

And that makes sharing a meal, breaking the (metaphorical) bread together, that much more sweet.

DSC_1354

 

Shakshuka

The spice and herbs here are flexible- you could up the cayenne pepper, add hot peppers, and change out the herbs. Cilantro, thyme, and chives would all be excellent. The saffron here is optional- the shakshuka will still be fantastic even if saffron runs a bit too dear.

adapted from Plenty by Yotam Ottolenghi

serves 4

1/2 teaspoon cumin seeds
1/4 cup olive oil
2 onions, sliced
2 red bell peppers, sliced
2 yellow bell peppers, sliced
2 tablespoons chopped oregano
1/4 cup chopped parsley
2 bay leaves
1 28 ounce can crushed tomatoes
pinch saffron (optional)
scant 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
salt and black pepper
juice of 1/2 a lemon
8 eggs

In a large pan over medium high heat add the cumin seeds. Toast them, stirring often, until they start to smell fragrant and get dark, about 2 minutes. Add the olive oil and the onions and sauté for 5 minutes, until the onions are soft.  Add both the peppers, the oregano, and the parsley and stir well. Continue to sauté for 10 minutes, until the peppers are soft.

Add the canned tomatoes, saffron, cayenne, and a good pinch of both salt and pepper. Reduce the heat to low and bring the sauce to a simmer. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 15 minutes or until the sauce has reached the same consistency as pasta sauce. If you need to cook it a bit further to get it there, or add water to get that result, do what you need to do. Add the lemon juice and taste, then adjust seasonings as necessary. It should taste bold.

This can all be done ahead of time. To serve the shakshuka, place a portion into a skillet and warm it. Make as many nests in the tangle of peppers as you want eggs, then crack an egg into each nest. I find it easiest to crack an egg into a small bowl, then slip it into the nest. Season each egg with salt and pepper. Reduce the heat to low, and cover the skillet. Cook the eggs until they are set to your liking, starting to check at about the 6 minute mark and then for every 2 minutes after. Serve with a generous sprinkle of parsley.

 

DSC_1363

Standard

Chard and Chickpea Pasta with Golden Raisins

dsc_1296

I’m Catholic.  For a few years I was related to a bishop by marriage. I attended a Franciscan parish throughout childhood. I can pray in English, Spanish, and Latin. There was even a summer in high school when I went to Mass every morning, although that might have been more for seeing my then-boyfriend than for spiritual nourishment.

But my relationship to my childhood faith has changed. It changed for a million reasons. Some of these are benign- studying at a Lutheran college, marrying a Protestant, attending Anglican services while living in England. Others are not. I’ve had deep qualms with the theology and disgusts with the institution. I walked out of Mass once when a Priest compared the Affordable Care Act to Maoist persecution of religion and the congregation applauded. I’ve seen fellow Catholics defending the Muslim ban, conveniently forgetting that a hundred years ago our faith was targeted in the same way. But I keep being drawn back to the Church, with reservations and with uncertainty. For all of its flaws and darkness, Catholicism is still the way I best understand God.

This week marked the beginning of Lent. Lent is one of my absolute favorite times of year. I love it for many of the same reasons as I love New Year’s. There’s an austerity and a resolve. At Mass on Ash Wednesday the priest spoke about how Lent is not a time of punishment, but of reflection. That it doesn’t exist because we are bad, but because we can be better. Lent is an invitation.

Rituals matter. And these rituals are one aspect that keeps dragging me back to the Church, over my anger and over my concerns and over my doubts.

Not to find theology lessons in my dinner, but I find meals like this particularly suited for Lent. They are simple and nourishing. There is time for questions and contemplation. Meals are rituals just as the liturgical calendar is.

But onto the pasta. Pasta is one of my favorite meals- I make it two or three times a week. Sometimes I avoid posting pasta here so I have make other foods. My most made pasta is a fail safe formula of greens and seasonings and a can of beans. It’s sustained me for many quick lunches, back-of-the-pocket dinners, and lazy date nights involving Netflix.

Here, we get the greens in beautiful rainbow chard. The stems are sauteed in a healthy dose of olive oil with garlic, capers, and golden raisins. The leaves are added in thin ribbons with a can of chickpeas, and the whole dish is topped with a good handful of feta cheese and a flurry of chopped walnuts.For a bowl of food that looks quite monochromatic it tastes like sunshine- here earthy, here a hint of sweetness, here the mellow richness of garlic. It’s a slightly Greek-esque pasta, hearty and full of good things. Having never been to Greece, I imagine this pasta would be perfect to eat on a rooftop overlooking the sea. As it is it’s perfect to eat at a dining room table, huddling in from the cold, glorying in the mundane.

dsc_1245

Chard and Chickpea Pasta with Golden Raisins

If you do eat fish, I would highly recommend adding two or three anchovies in with the olive oil. They melt into the oil and make everything taste just a bit more savory and a bit more like the sea.

Serves 2-4

8 ounces fusilli or other short pasta (I like whole wheat for this)
1/3 cup olive oil
1 large bunch of rainbow chard, stems diced, leaves sliced into thin ribbons
3 cloves of garlic, minced
1/4 cup golden raisins
1 tablespoon capers
2 teaspoons red pepper flakes
1 fifteen ounce can chickpeas, or 2 cups cooked chickpeas, rinsed and drained
feta, for serving
chopped walnuts, for serving

Set a large pot of water on to boil for the pasta. Add a good amount of salt to the water.

While the water boils, warm the olive oil in another large pot over low heat. Add the chard stems, garlic, golden raisins, capers, and red pepper flakes with a pinch of salt. Cook, stirring often, until everything is soft and fragrant, about 10 minutes.

Cook the fusilli according to the packaged directions, until it has just a bit of bite left. Meanwhile, add the chard leaves and chickpeas to the chard stem mixture and stir well. Let it cook until the chard leaves are beginning to collapse. If the pot runs dry,  add a bit of water. Taste everything, and add salt as necessary.

When the pasta is ready, add about 1/4 cup pasta water to the chard mixture, then drain the pasta and add to the chard. Toss well, and turn the heat up to medium just long enough for the water to reduce.

Serve hot, topped with feta cheese and walnuts.

Standard

Creamy Potato Chowder with Watercress

dsc_1290

dsc_1260

I had scant awareness of family meal before becoming a cook. When I worked in a pizza joint in high school there was no such thing as family meal. I’m not certain that anyone working knew about the concept. We could make ourselves iceberg lettuce salads, or eat the “mess up” pizzas that the management didn’t pitch. Or we could buy our dinner, something the servers often did and no one else would.

On the other end of the family meal continuum are those you see in movies about fancy restaurants. There, everyone- cooks, servers, dishwashers- sits down before service. It’s served family style and there’s wine involved. It’s sophisticated and elegant and elastic. Whenever I see those films I dream of their family meals.

Family meal where I work is something different. It happens during service. We all eat standing up, clustered around our chest freezer. Front of the house eats in shifts. Back of the house eats between tickets. And the food is wildly variable. There are days we need to use up those luxury products and so we end up eating foie gras pancakes. On the other hand I’ve eaten burgers and gyros more times than I can count. Some times it’s collaborative, with everyone creating a component. Other times one person takes charge and spends most of their free time pulling it together.

Some meals are excellent. Homemade pasta, ramen, and pizza have all graced our chest freezer. Other day we end up devouring scrambled eggs and leftover biscuits because we didn’t plan ahead. And some meals barely get eaten. A bad family meal is unfortunate, but the only unforgivable family meal is an omitted one. Not feeding your people is one of the rudest things possible in restaurant.

I’ve made an absurd amount of salads for family meal- they’re delicious, adaptable, and I am always happy to eat a salad. But family meals offers a challenge to step out of my comfort zone and use up product that I don’t often turn to.

This potato chowder is loosely inspired by a recent family meal. We had a large amount of cauliflower scraps and gallons of very fatty smoked pork broth that both needed use, and I paired them up in a soup. And it was fine. I wasn’t happy with it but we have to feed our people. But even unfortunate meals can grow into good ones, if only the idea of them. Some times good things can come from mistakes.

Here, you gently cook celery and onions until they’ve softened and just started to take on color. Dried sage and smoked paprika add depth and a faint hint of smokiness. Vegetable stock is less heavy and fatty than pork broth, and allows the creamy softness of potato to shine. Some heavy cream gives the soup body, and watercress brings a bright, peppery bite. It’s the kind of soup I like to eat as winter starts to break- warm but not heavy, comforting but fresh.

dsc_1267

Creamy Potato Chowder with Watercress

If you can’t find watercress, roughly chopped spinach would be a fine substitute. I would add a bit more pepper in that case.

serves 4

2 tablespoons butter
3 stalks celery, diced
1 small onion, diced
1 tablespoon dried sage
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon ground white pepper
salt
2 pounds yukon gold potatoes, peeled and diced
8 cups vegetable broth
1 cup heavy cream
a good handful of cleaned and roughly chopped watercress

to serve

oyster crackers
watercress
scallions, finely sliced on the bias

In a large soup pan melt the butter over medium-low heat. When the butter is frothing, add the celery and onions. Cook, stirring occasionally, until soft and starting to take on some color, about 8 minutes. Add the sage, paprika, white pepper, and 1/2 teaspoon sea salt. Cook for a minute, until the spices are fragrant. Add the potatoes, and stir to coat. Add the vegetable broth, scrapping the bottom with a wooden spoon as you pour the vegetable broth in, and bring to a boil. Reduce the soup to a simmer, then simmer for 30 minutes, until the potatoes are almost falling apart.

Use an immersion blender to blend the soup to a chunky-creamy consistency or an upright blender to puree half of the soup. Stir in the cream, and taste for seasonings. Add more salt and pepper as necessary. Stir the watercress into the warm soup.

To serve, top with oyster crackers, watercress, and scallions.  Eat warm.

dsc_1276

 

Standard

Miso Popcorn with Aleppo Pepper

dsc_1334

A few weeks ago Aaron and I went to get a cocktail before dinner at a new restaurant near our apartment. Because we had worked with about half of the front of house staff, that cocktail turned to two, turned to dinner, turned to taking a drunken tour of the kitchen and pinky swearing with the chef. When we got home, I realized I was very intoxicated and needed something to soak up all the booze. And so I drunkenly made miso popcorn- salty, buttery, and addictive- as a midnight snack.

Of course, the story continues with my darling husband taking a video of drunk me and then SENDING IT TO MY BOSS. Highlights of the video include me hitting the phone out of his hands, responding “f*** you” and laughing when he asks me what I’m eating, and telling him I made the popcorn with booze. I’m still getting flack at work for that one. Aaron’s lucky he’s cute.

I’ve been holding onto this recipe for at least a year. I make it often- sometimes once a week- but it’s always been a bit too weird, a bit too approximate to share here. When I make it for other people there’s an even 50/50 split of people who devour it and people who politely take one taste and then not another.

So, you may love this. Or you may not. I think it all depends on how you like your popcorn. If you’re someone who prefers your popcorn dry, sprinkled with only with salt, this isn’t your recipe. (But you should still try this proportion of oil to popcorn while cooking, because it makes the most even and fluffy popcorn that I’ve found.) But if you’re like me and grew up popcorn drenched in butter, this might just be your jam. If you’re into strongly flavored popcorn that’s not airy and crispy, but has soaked up all the buttery flavor, you should make this. While it makes an excellent drunk snack, it’s even better when you’re sober and can taste the nuance- earthy and savory and salty and spicy and just slightly sweet.

dsc_1297

dsc_1310

 

Miso Popcorn

You could play with the toppings here. Sesame seeds would be fantastic, as would any other number of spices. If you can’t find Aleppo pepper (Penzeys has it, as does the spice shop I wish Minneapolis had), I would substitute in chili powder or omit it entirely. My beloved crushed red pepper flakes would do more harm than good here.If you use a dark miso, it will still be delicious, but I would start with less salt and adjust as you desire.

Makes about 6 cups

2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 cup yellow popcorn kernels
1 1/2 tablespoons light miso
1 tablespoon butter
2 teaspoons nutritional yeast
1 teaspoon Aleppo pepper
1/2 teaspoon salt

In a medium, heavy bottomed pan with a tightly fitting lid warm the olive oil. Drop a few kernels of popcorn into the oil. Once they’ve popped, add the rest of the popcorn and place the lid on the pot. Cook, shaking the pot often, as the popcorn pops quite aggressively. Once the popcorn has expanded to the volume of the pot and the popping slows, turn out into a large bowl. If there are more kernels on the bottom of the pot, return the pot to heat and cover again and let the final kernels pop.

In a small pot add the miso with 1 tablespoon of water. Use a spoon to mix together, making sure that the miso and the water are very well combined. You don’t want any chunks of miso in this- just a smooth paste. Place the pot over low heat and add the butter. Use your spoon to stir constantly as the butter melts- you want this to be well emulsified and smooth. You’re essentially making miso beurre. It will not take long.

Pour the miso beurre over the popcorn. Sprinkle the nutritional yeast, Aleppo, and salt over the beurre. Toss the popcorn well, making sure everything is evenly coated. Eat immediately.

Standard

Galentine’s Day Buckwheat Waffles with Chocolate Sauce and Orange Whipped Cream

These waffles were photographed in my dear friend Danielle‘s kitchen. Danielle and I met the first day of college. We lived directly across the hall from each other which made it quite convenient that we saw each other a lot. She was the person who told me to read Virginia Woolf for the first time, who started a poetry club called Dead Poet’s Society our sophomore year (we would go and read poetry outside), who describes her fashion sense as “third grade cool”, who still goes by the nickname Dani Unicorn, and who broke her promise to Aaron by telling me he liked me when we were freshman. She’s a model for showing up every day with creative work and the most Gryffindor person I know. When we got married the only reason she wasn’t a bridesmaid is that she couldn’t get away from her Peace Corps service. And she saw nothing weird or abnormal with me asking her to text me a picture of her kitchen table on a whim.

dsc_1307

Leslie Knope (#Knope2020) from Parks and Recreation created Galentine’s Day to celebrate all the awesome ladies in her life. Galentine’s Day is for the women you call “beautiful and poetic land mermaids” and “strong, sensative musk oxes” and such. Female friendships are such a valuable thing, and I like that there’s a holiday, no matter how fictitious, to celebrate them. For a long time I didn’t feel like I understood friendship, not really. It was always difficult to make friends. Finding your place, especially as a kid, is scary and difficult, but when you find the right people? It’s perfect. Why wouldn’t you celebrate that?

dsc_1312

dsc_1319

In honor of Galentine’s Day we have waffles. Buckwheat waffles, because I love the earthy, almost beer-y flavor of the buckwheat and all my favorite baked goods have some interesting flours. Whipped cream and chocolate sauce, because Leslie wouldn’t have them any other way. Orange segments for the reassurance that we’re eating fruit at breakfast (and because orange, chocolate, and buckwheat are as good friends as Leslie and Ann), and chocolate shavings because if there’s ever a time to eat chocolate for breakfast, it’s Galentine’s Day.

Danielle, you beautiful minx, thank you for letting me invade your home and morning. Happy Galentine’s Day. Love you girl.

dsc_1325

Buckwheat Waffles with Chocolate Sauce and Orange Whipped Cream

This batter will look quite wet, which is a good thing as buckwheat flour is dryer than all-purpose flour. Because the egg whites are folded in the batter should be made into waffles immediately. If you delay, the batter will fall and that would make sad waffles. These keep well frozen, and can easily be warmed back up in a toaster oven. I’ve learned two tricks to make these waffles crisp and caramelized and fantastic. The first is to cook them on high- preferably the highest setting your waffle maker can handle. And second is to brush the waffle iron with melted butter in between waffles, even if the waffle iron is non-stick. Those two tricks taken together make for crispy edges and a soft interior, and that contrast is what truly makes waffles great.

Makes about 6 waffles

1 cup (125 grams) all-purpose flour
1/2 cup (65 grams) buckwheat flour
1 teaspoon (4 grams) baking powder
1/2 teaspoon (2 grams) sea salt
2 eggs, separated
1 cup (250 milliliters) whole milk
1/2 cup (120 grams) whole yogurt
1/4 cup (60 milliliters) maple syrup
2 tablespoons (25 grams) butter, melted, plus more for the waffle iron
1 tablespoon (15 grams) cane sugar

To serve:

Orange Whipped cream (recipe below)
Chocolate sauce (recipe below)
Orange segments
Shaved dark chocolate (use a vegetable peeler to shave the chocolate)

In a large bowl combine the all-purpose flour, buckwheat flour, baking powder, and salt. Whisk together, and set aside.

In a medium bowl whisk together the egg yolks, milk, yogurt, maple syrup, and butter until smooth. Add to the dry mixture, and whisk until smooth.

In another medium bowl place the egg whites. Use a whisk attachment to beat the egg whites at medium-high speed to medium peaks. Once the egg whites keep their shape but the tips flop over when the beater (turned off!) is lifted, sprinkle in the sugar and beat until the peaks are stiff and glossy. Fold the stiff beaks into the rest of the batter with a rubber spatula, being careful to only stir as much as necessary and no more.

Preheat the oven to 200 degrees. Place a cookie sheet with a cooling rack on top inside of the oven.

Heat your waffle iron on the highest setting. Once it’s nice and hot brush the iron with melted butter, and then scoop the batter into the iron and press. Every iron is different- mine works best with 1/2 a cup of batter, but play with yours to find your ideal amount. Cook the waffle until it smells toasty and golden. For me, that’s longer than when my waffle iron says it’s finished. Place on the rack in the oven to keep warm, and repeat with remaining batter.

Serve waffles warm, topped with orange whipped cream, chocolate sauce, orange segments, and chocolate shavings.

Orange whipped cream

If you’d like a stronger flavor, you could add in a hit of orange juice or orange liquor.

1 cup (250 milliliters) heavy cream
zest of 1 orange
1 tablespoon (15 grams) cane sugar

In a medium bowl beat everything together on medium-high speed using a hand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment. Beat until the cream is softly whipped, when the cream balls together but is still loose.

Chocolate Sauce

This chocolate sauce is just a thin chocolate ganache. And now that you know how to make it, you can play with all sort of ratios to turn into fillings for chocolate, frostings, and sauces. This is texturally the best the day it’s made,  but it makes a very good hot chocolate. (Just warm your desired amount with your milk of choice.)

1 cup (250 milliliters) heavy cream
4 ounces dark chocolate, chopped
2 tablespoons (30 milliliters) maple syrup
1/4 heaping teaspoons (1/4 + 1/8 teaspoon) sea salt

Place the cream into a small pot. Bring the cream to a simmer, then remove from heat.

Place the chopped chocolate in a small bowl. Pour the warm cream over the chopped chocolate, then use a whisk to quickly stir the cream and chocolate together. Don’t stop whisking until the chocolate is all melted and the sauce is smooth and emulsified. Stir in the maple syrup and salt. Taste for seasonings, and adjust as necessary.

Standard