A Crostini Before Supper

Last fall, Mariko and I took a cooking class one night after work. As the instructor made introductions and described what we would be making, her hands were casually moving, slicing simple Granny Smith apples and red onions. It was past 7pm, and I was completely ready for food, so my eyes rarely left her smooth motions. I wasn’t going to let this hope out of my sight. But onions and apples? Somehow, I thought they must be for different dishes.

She tossed the onions in a skillet with a bit of salt, twirled in some olive oil, and began to melt them. A baguette appeared, was cut and toasted. When the onions had just started to go soft, the apple was added. And three minutes later, the mixture was dalloped on the toast, magically transformed into crostini.

I’d been meaning to duplicate this simple, elegant appetizer for months, and recently had both a red onion and a green apple hanging out in the fruit bowl. As for the baguette, well, leftover hamburger buns work, too. (They just don’t look as pretty!)

That’s it. Not even a recipe. But the combination is o so tres Italian, and I want to try it with all sorts of accoutrements, like goat cheese or balsamic vinegar.

Of Gales, Greeks, and “Barnyard”

Saturday, one could say, was a little rainy. It was perfect rain, the kind that is only possible on a Saturday when there are no plans, except, perhaps, that one must find sustenance at some point. And I had a sick roommate, a “maybe-coming-down-with-something” boyfriend, and an 846-page novel. All was quiet, sleepy, and well, until my thoughts drifted to the cabbage in the crisper.

I hadn’t been planning to buy cabbage during an earlier shopping run, but luck of the Irish was with me: I saw it marked down to 33 cents/pound at Whole Foods in honor of the upcoming St. Patrick’s day, and figured 33 cents/pound was a price worth paying for cabbage. Into my basket it went, and rang up at a grand total of $0.94. 

So as I turned to vague thoughts of dinner, I looked for cabbage recipes. And of course Martha Rose had done a cabbage week in 2008, and of course one of her ideas looked delicious and substantial, and of course it called for one head of cabbage, which is just what I had. Greek Cabbage Pie it would be.

Of course, it also called for a couple of things I didn’t have: dill, a red onion, phyllo dough, feta cheese. No matter. It was just raining. And a bit windy. 43mph winds, actually. But I had a fancy umbrella, guaranteed to not flip out in the wind. I hadn’t actually tested it, but…

Lorne and I embarked on the nine-block walk to Whole Foods, me wrestling my umbrella, Lorne deciding he’d rather just get drenched. The umbrella was impressive, staying strong and upright; Lorne was just starting to say that maybe I should go find the inventor of the umbrella and marry the guy—he was obviously a genius. And then, so close to safety, a wind gust swept my umbrella hard. I held on tight. The umbrella held on tight. And suddenly I was left staring at my knuckles, clenching a foot of umbrella handle, which had snapped off completely from the umbrella itself. I could only watch in disbelief as my red umbrella danced away. It had failed me! This Greek Pie thing was already turning out to be a bit more trouble than I had expected.

After that adventure, we weren’t surprised to find that Whole Foods was a bit eerie—empty save for a few soaking souls. Which gave us plenty of space to debate the fresh feta options: Cow’s milk feta, Bulgarian feta (sheep’s milk), Greek feta (sheep and goat’s milk). Lorne was sure that feta wasn’t cow’s milk, so we passed on that. The Greek feta looked good, but was twice as much as the Bulgarian. Feta’s feta, right? I picked up a tub of the Bulgarian stuff. How bad could it be?

It wasn’t until I had chopped the vegetables, blanched the cabbage, and was happily sauteing everything (including some spinach for extra oomph) that I opened the feta. Whoa whoa whoa! A strong whiff of something that could only be described as “barnyard” pervaded the room. When wine connoisseurs say that a wine has “hints of barnyard,” they don’t mean anything like this cheese. This was like sitting in the middle of a sheep pen, surrounded by nuzzling animals.

But after a long debate, and convincing Lorne that no, the bacteria used in the making of the cheese did not come from manure (a fact that we had to google, and no, there was no google auto-fill for the question, “Is cheese made with manure bacteria?”), we whisked the cheese and some eggs into the cabbage mixture. Then we pulled the phyllo dough out of the freezer. 

Hmmm. It was supposed to thaw overnight, then sit at room temperature for two hours. I looked at my cellphone. Already 7:30, and the night before the time change, so theoretically, it was 8:30. Double hmmm. A quick defrost round in the microwave, verboten per the package instructions, and our phyllo dough, only slightly worse for its carousel ride, was ready to layer.

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And 40 minutes later, voila!

It still smelled slightly of barnyard, but more of the “lightly scented whiff of countryside barnyard.” Once we added salt and pepper, it worked. Enough to eat straight for a week? Eh… it surprisingly just tasted better on day three than on day one. I’d try it again with cow’s milk feta, more garlic, and something with a bit more bite—olives, perhaps, or capers.

 

But when making this pie and debating barnyard cheese are the hardest parts of your day? That’s when you know it’s a good Saturday. 

Greek Cabbage Pie, adapted from Martha Rose Shulman’s version. I just added a bag of frozen spinach in with the blanched cabbage.

Salt Monster

I really love salt. I tell myself that it’s because I run a lot, so I need to replenish my body’s supply. Then Leslie Bonci, a nutritionist for Runner’s World, told me that I need salt. So I believe it!

Anyway, more good news in the NYT this week. Salt on, my friends!

Out and About

I like to cook (a lot) and honestly, often prefer to stay in and make dinner for friends then head out to NYC’s fantastic (but expensive! and rushed!) restaurant world. But here are a few thing I loved recently.

Xi’an Famous Foods Hot Oil Noodles

First I saw them in NYmag. Then Sam Sifton got in on the game. Serious Eats, Time Out New York, everyone was heading downtown for true spicy noodles. By the time Lorne and I made it down to Chinatown in February (the part hidden away from tourist-tracked Canal street), the wall of Xi’an Famous Foods was covered in framed accolades. Smart PR, those folks.

We actually enjoyed the wait while our noodles were freshly prepared (a retreat from the col outside!), and Lorne and the manager swapped stories about eating in China. Then our box of hallowed noodles braved the cold with us (there’s no seating inside) and we found a set of stairs on which to eat. Note: it was 15 degrees. And windy. I was not so into the noodles anymore.

So were the noodles spicy hot? Yes? I think? They were soft and slick, but I think the cold mellowed out some of their heat. Lorne finished them all up though, so I think that means they were good. I just wanted to get moving!

Then there was another brunch at Prune, in the East Village. There was about an hour wait for a tiny table, but incredibly worth-it brunch food (and I rarely think brunch food is worth the cost… it always seems like something I could make easily at home. This, however, was different).

Official description from Prune: Spicy Stewed Chickpeas butter-crumbed eggs with spicy stewed chickpeas, preserved lemons and warm flatbread. 

Official description from me: This was the clear winner in the “Who can order a better dish?” Lorne-Rachel face-off. These frizzled eggs were just the coolest texture—crispy and buttery on the outside, gooey on the inside. And the chickpeas were all spicy and did one of my favorite food magic tricks—made me think of exotic, warm locales in the middle of winter. I think the eggs in this recipe might mimic Prune’s—they’re on my to-try list.

Official description from Prune: Dutch Style Pancake one large individual pancake, cooked in the oven, with blueberries, served with canadian bacon, sour cream and powdered sugar.

Official description from me: Pretty darn good pancakes. I’m inspired to try this one too. Plus, behold the power of powdered sugar (powder power!) to make anything look pretty!

World’s Healthiest Dessert?

I think we’ve got a contender here: the “pretend it’s just a bowl of fruit and oatmeal,” crisp, which, in a way, it is. But it still tastes like dessert!

So-Healthy-It’s-Almost-Oatmeal Crisp

1 bag of mixed frozen berries (the Whole Foods assortment includes blueberries, raspberries, and strawberries)

3 Tbsp. sugar

1/4 to 1/2 cup old fashioned oats

1 Tbsp. of butter (or less)

3 more Tbsp. sugar

1. Preheat oven to 350 F. Mix the berries with the sugar (they don’t have to be defrosted) and place in greased pan, like this 8-in round one.

2. Sprinkle the oats and remaining sugar on top of the fruit; drop little slivers of butter over the whole crisp. Bake for 20-25 minutes, until crust is golden. Eat! For dessert, breakfast the next day, snack, anytime.

You could also add nuts or flaxseed, and use honey instead of the sugar. Then it really would be like my morning bowl of oatmeal!

Long Run Breakfast

This is my absolute favorite breakfast after a long run (note the all-important NYT in the background). Around these parts, we call them veggie crepe-eggs, but really, you can call them whatever you want. There are two best parts: you don’t feel like you’re eating vegetables for breakfast, but really there’s only one egg in this whole heaping plate. And the crepe consistency seems just a little bit fancy. It’s also makes an excellent clean-out-the-fridge brunch. (After a long run, it’s normally brunch/lunch time anyway!)

Veggie Crepe-Eggs

(makes two servings, just divide by half for one, or save half for Monday morning)

1 Tbsp. olive or canola oil

1 onion, any type, roughly chopped

A clove or 2 of garlic if you have, roughly chopped

2 or 3 handfuls of spinach,  kale, lettuce, whatever green is about to go squishy

Any other vegetables you have on hand 

2 eggs, lightly beaten

Any fresh herbs you have on hand, chopped lightly and mixed with the eggs

1. Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat; add onion, garlic, and a pinch of salt. When the onions just start to brown, about 4 minutes, add the other vegetables, and then the greens.

2. The greens will take over the whole pan; let them steam and wilt until they seem under control. Then, the all-important step: push them to one side of the pan. Spray the clean half of the pan with cooking spray; turn heat to high; and immediately pour in egg mixture on clean side. 

3. Working quickly with a spatula, lift up cooked edges of the egg “crepe” so that the runny egg can go underneath it. Continue until there is no wet egg on the top of the crepe. (Some of the egg mixture will have integrated with the vegetable pile, this is perfectly fine.) Flip the egg crepe and cook for another minute, or until both sides are lightly browned. Meanwhile, move the egg-saturated vegetables around, so all eggs are cooked.

4. Divide egg crepe and veggie mixture among 2 plates; top with freshly ground pepper and salt. Serve with toast, coffee, and The New York Times.

Pretty Pictures

A few weeks ago, I took at food photography and styling course at the Institute of Culinary Education. We got to play with brightly colored dishes and backgrounds, along with a whole kitchen full of food. I learned that lots of food styling is, well, a bit un-edible: Elmer’s glue stands in for milk, for example. But these first glamour shots are just a few I took where food gets all the deserved glory, no help required. (The last two had a bit of extra love.) The best thing I learned: colored paper backgrounds and clothespins can cure all manner of styling conundrums. I’ll be starting my own paper collection soon!

These artichokes were styled by another group, but I had to take photos because they were so gorgeous. Green and purple are opposites on the color wheel, which is part of the reason they go so well together.

The pattypan squash we styled! I love the aquamarine plate, wanted to bring it home with me.

A product shot we styled. I had to blow on the chocolate drizzle with a straw to make it look warm and melty—but really it was just spit-covered!

And a chicken salad, all nicely golden. I think we brushed it with a browning agent to make it look so pretty.

A Wee Bit of a Brussels Sprouts Obsession

Did I mention that I’d had Brussels Sprouts maybe only once or twice, until I fell head over heels for them last fall?

I tried Mollie Katzen’s technique and couldn’t stop making (and eating) them. And when mine turned out well, I got a bit addicted and had to try them everywhere. Locanda Verde (good, but the least-impressive of everything we ordered there). Covo Trattoria (oily, and I didn’t even have to say that they weren’t as good as “mine”—someone else did). The steamed sprouts that came with my sushi at my work cafeteria (I think sprouts need a little more attention than plain Jane steaming). And then this o-so-lovely Brussels Sprouts and Pancetta pizza from Motorino, which I am already scheming to try again.

We had to eat it outside on a stoop because the restaurant is crazy-popular after Sam Sifton’s laudatory review… but I wanted to go back and immediately order another.

Have you been anywhere that had great Brussels Sprouts? They’ve become my new “it item,” and I want to try them everywhere!

Garden 2010, Start Your Engine!

The weather report here in NYC is ‘wintery mix,’ aka, I wish I could wear both my Uggs and my Hunter boots at the same time. But spring is coming, and Lorne and I (with lots of tie-breaker help from Tammy) just picked out our summer 2010 garden lineup.

I love the Fedco seed catalog. There are rambling old-time descriptions starting with hooks like, “This zucchini will make you popular,” and, “This tomato will change your life.” Seriously, the fact that they can write two engaging paragraphs about a single seed is fantastic. It makes me want to buy everything, and plant gardens up and down the street. (Small seed packets only run about a dollar a each…fueling the addiction.)

The names alone of some of these (Costata Romanesca Zucchini, anyone?) are enough to earn them precious soil space. Each one is a little dream, and it’ll be six months before I know if our General Lee slicing cucumbers live up to their namesake, or if our Charming Snow cauliflower will be charming come August, but for now, they’re all bursting with possibility. Even the “common” mint.

Here’s what we’ll be growing and cooking with this summer:

General Lee Slicing Cucumber

Richmond Green Apple Slicing Cucumber

Costata Romanesca Zucchini

Early Wonder Tall Top Beet

Lincoln Leek

Red Marble Onion

Bordeaux Spinach

Tyee Spinach

Lettuce Mix

Bright Lights Chard

Roodnerf Brussels Sprouts

Charming Snow Cauliflower

White Russian Kale OG

Early Jalapeno

Anaheim Hot Pepper

Rutgers Tomato OG

Cherokee Purple Tomato OG

Early Girl Tomato

Sweet Basil

Lime Basil OG

Cilantro OG

Fernleaf Dill

Common Mint

German Thyme

Pizza from the West Coast

There’s a pizza place in Berkeley, CA that (I hear) has the best pizza. Ever.

I’ve never been there, but I’ve heard about this pizza, a lot. From my boyfriend Lorne, who really really really likes Zachary’s Pizza. His parents would buy pies whenever they were in the area, take them home to Boise, Idaho, and freeze them until Lorne came home from New York. So whenever I’d make the pilgrimage to taste-test NYC’s latest and greatest pizza, there was always a dissatisfied, “hmmmph! Not as good as Zachary’s,” from Lorne’s camp.

And then his family found the Zachary’s recipe online, and Lorne brought a little taste of Zachary’s to the east coast.

It’s a thin-crust deep dish pizza, kind of like a pizza sandwich.

Lots of veggies! The crust is also layered with cheese, to keep it from getting soggy (and make it taste good!).

Then the sauce goes on top.

And that’s Sunday night pizza, folks!

My contribution to the meal—crackers! I just rolled out the extra pizza dough on a cookie pan, sprinkled with olive oil, balsamic, and parsley, and baked for about 15 minutes at 375°. I can’t believe how easy it was!

Any votes for the best pizza, ever?! Show your pizza love in the comments.