Recipe: Aaron's Fruit and Frangipane Galette

While it's wildly inconsistent of me to post a recipe for an apricot galette in March, the dessert seems to have stolen the show in the Water episode of Cooked.  Everyone wants the recipe.  So here it is!  Right now, the best fruit to use is still apples.  I love Sierra Beauty, Honeycrisp, or Pink Lady.  Soon, rhubarb will be around again...that makes for a wonderful galette, too.  Then, in June, try apricots!  I always use Blenheims when I can get my hands on them.

I used to be terrified of tart-making, until my dear friend Aaron, who’s as obsessive about flavor as I am, came up with this recipe after years of experimentation. Both versatile and forgiving, it works for any fruit or savory tart.  Once you grow comfortable making and rolling out tarts, lay out toppings with an eye toward aesthetics.  Alternate different colored plums, apples, tomatoes or peppers for a striped pattern, or simply dot an asparagus tart with dollops of seasoned ricotta for contrast.  The more senses to which your food appeals, the more delicious it will be.  One note: if you don’t have a stand mixer, you can make this dough in a food processor or by hand with a pastry blender.  Just make sure to freeze all of your tools, no matter what you use. 

Aaron's Tart Dough

• 1¾ cups (240 grams) all-purpose flour
• 2 tablespoons (30 grams) sugar
• ¼ teaspoon baking powder
• 1 teaspoon Diamond Crystal kosher salt
• 4 ounces butter cut into ½-inch cubes
• 6 tablespoons (85 grams) crème fraîche or heavy cream, chilled
• Ice water, as needed, to bind

Whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt in the bowl of a stand mixer.  Freeze, along with the butter and the paddle attachment, for 20 minutes..  Chill the crème fraîche and cream in the fridge. 

Put the bowl of dry ingredients on the stand mixer and fit with the paddle attachment.  Turn the speed onto low, and slowly add the butter cubes.  Once the butter is added, you can increase the speed to medium-low. 

Work in the butter until it’s broken down into broken-walnut-sized pieces (don’t overmix—bits of butter are GOOD!). This will take about 1-2 minutes in the stand mixer, or a bit longer by hand. 

Add the crème fraîche.  In some cases, this will be enough to bind the dough with a bit of mixing.  In other cases, you might need to add a spoonful of ice water.  Resist the urge to add so much water, or mix for so long, that the dough comes completely together.  Some shaggy bits are fine.  If you’re not sure whether or not the dough needs more water, stop the mixer and take a handful of dough in your palm.  Squeeze it hard, then gently try to break it apart.  If it crumbles apart very easily and feels very dry, add more water.  If it holds together or breaks into a few chunks, you’re done. 

On the counter, pull out a long piece of plastic wrap from the roll but do not cut it.  In a quick, fearless, motion, flip the bowl over onto the plastic wrap.  Remove the bowl, and avoid touching the dough.  Cut the plastic from the roll and, lifting both ends, use it to encourage all of the dough into a ball.  Don’t worry if there are some dry bits—the flour will evenly absorb the moisture with time.  Just twist the plastic tightly around the dough, press the ball into a disk, and chill for at least two hours or overnight. 

To freeze the dough for up to 2 months, double-wrap it in plastic and then wrap it in aluminum foil to prevent freezer burn.  Allow the dough to defrost in the refrigerator overnight before using.

Makes one 16-ounce tart dough, enough for a 12-inch tart

Frangipane:

• ¾ cup (110 grams) almonds, toasted
• 3 tablespoons sugar
• 2 tablespoons almond paste
• 2 ounces butter at room temperature
• 1 large egg
• 1 teaspoon Diamond Crystal Kosher Salt
• ½ teaspoon vanilla extract
• ½ teaspoon almond extract

To assemble the Tart:

• Flour, for rolling
• 4 pounds apricots, or other fruit
• Heavy Cream
• Sugar for sprinkling

Preheat the oven to 425°F/220°C, and set a rack in the middle of the oven.

To make the frangipane, place the almonds and sugar in a food processor and grind until very fine.  Add the remaining ingredients and mix until you have a smooth paste.

To make the magic dust, combine ground almonds, flour, sugar, and salt in a small bowl. Set aside.     

Flip a rimmed baking sheet upside down and place a piece of parchment paper on top.  Set aside. 

Before unwrapping the dough, roll the disk on its edge on the counter to form it into a circle.  Unwrap the dough and sprinkle the counter, the rolling pin, and the dough with flour to prevent sticking.  Working quickly, roll the dough out into a 14-inch circle, to a thickness of about ¼-inch.

To roll the dough into a circle more easily, turn the dough a quarter turn with every roll.  This will also help you notice if it’s sticking to the work surface.  If the dough does begin to stick, lift it carefully from the counter and use more flour as needed.  

Roll the dough onto the rolling pin, and gingerly pick it up off the counter.  Carefully unroll it onto the parchment-lined baking sheet.  Refrigerate for 20 minutes. 

In the meantime, work on the fruit. Quarter all of the apricots, except for 5, which you can cut into eighths. 

Leaving the chilled dough on the parchment, use a rubber or offset spatula to spread a 1/8-inch thick layer of frangipane all over the surface, leaving the outer 2 inches uncovered.

Use the apricots you’ve cut into eighths to create a wall of fruit at the outer edge of frangipane, skin-side out.  While rotating the tart, fold the border of the exposed dough over the fruit wall, and over itself, crimping as you go to create an outer crust. 

Return the dough to the freezer and chill for 15 minutes.  Then, begin to assemble the tart.  Starting at the outermost edge of the tart, lean the apricot quarters against the crust, with their points facing up.  Pack them in tightly to avoid naked tart bits, since they will shrink as they cook. 

Put the whole thing back in the fridge and for 15 minutes longer.  Brush a little heavy cream onto the crust, and then sprinkle with sugar. 

Bake directly on the parchment, on a cookie sheet or pizza pan.  Stick on the middle rack of the oven at 425°F for 20 minutes.  At this point, sprinkle about 1 cup sugar over the fruit.   Then, reduce the heat to 400°F for another 15-20 minutes. Then, reduce to 350-75°F (based on how dark the crust is) and cook until done, which will be something like another 15-20 minutes, though it can take longer for tarts made with watery fruits, because they can take longer to cook through without being jammy. 

You’ll know it’s done when the crust is a deep, golden brown and you can actually stick a paring knife under the tart and lift it off the pan with ease.  The bottom should be quite golden and beautiful as well.  And finally, all of the fruit should be cooked through and tender and there shouldn’t be pools of juice in the center of the tart…though, it happens!

Remove from the oven and allow to cool on a wire rack, if you have one, or an inverted cookie sheet, if you don’t.  

Serve warm or cooled, with ice cream, softly whipped cream or crème fraîche. 

Cover and refrigerate unused frangipane for up to one week.  Keep any uneaten tart wrapped at room temperature, for up to one day. 

Makes one 14-inch tart

Recipe: Pork Braised with Chiles

Wow!  The response to Cooked on Netflix has been overwhelming!  Almost everyone who writes wants the recipe for the braise Michael and I make in the Water episode.  Who am I to stand in your way?  Here it is--take it and cook!  

We made it with pork, but chicken legs and chuck roast, brisket, or short ribs would work equally well.  No matter what meat you're cooking, just keep simmering it until it falls off the bone.  

Neutral oil, such as grapeseed or canola

4 pounds boneless pork shoulder roast, salted in advance

2 medium yellow onions, sliced

1 head garlic, sliced through the equator

2 cups (480 grams) crushed tomatoes in their juice, fresh or canned

2 tablespoons cumin seed

2 bay leaves

8 dried chiles, such as Guajillo, New Mexico, Anaheim, or Ancho, stemmed, seeded and rinsed

2-3 cups (about 600 milliliters) lager or pilsner beer

½ cup roughly chopped cilantro for garnish

Optional: add 1 tablespoon smoky paprika or 2 smoked peppers, such as Chipotle Morita or Pasilla de Oaxaca to the braise

Preheat oven to 325°F/160°C. 

Set an oven-proof Dutch oven over medium-high heat.  When it’s warm, add 1 tablespoon neutral oil.  When the oil shimmers, place the pork in the pan.  Brown it evenly on all sides, about 3-4 minutes per side.

When the meat is brown, remove it and set it aside.  Tip out the fat from the pan.  Return the pan to the stove, reduce the heat to medium, and add 1 tablespoon neutral oil.  Cook the onions and garlic over until they are tender and lightly browned, about 15 minutes.  Add the tomatoes and juice, cumin, bay leaves, and dried chilies into the pot and stir. Nestle pork atop the aromatic base, and add enough beer to come 1½ inches up the sides of the meat.  Make sure the peppers and bay leaves are mostly immersed in the juices so that they do not burn. 

Increase heat and bring to a boil, then slip the pot, uncovered, into the oven.  After 30 minutes, check to make sure the liquid is just barely simmering.  About every 30 minutes, turn the pork over and check the level of the liquid, adding more beer as needed. Cook until the meat is tender and falls apart at the touch of a fork, 3½ to 4 hours.

Remove the cooked pork from the oven and carefully remove it from the pan.  Using a food mill or whizzing machine, puree the aromatics and strain them through a sieve.  Skim the fat from the sauce and then taste, adjusting salt as needed. 

At this point, you can either shred the meat and combine it with the sauce to make pork tacos, or slice it and spoon the sauce over the pork to serve it as an entrée.  Garnish with chopped cilantro to serve. 

Serves 8

Saffron Pavlova (or Meringue Trifle) with Rose Scented Berries

It's Berry Week over at Good Eggs, which means they're giving away free berries with every order! To celebrate, I made a pavlova.  

I'd never been one for meringue until I tasted the pillowy clouds they make in the pastry kitchen at Chez Panisse.  But still, for years I was terrified to try my own hand at it.  Egg whites can be finicky, I'd heard (and experienced), time and time again.  

It was my friend Aaron Hyman who gave me the courage to make, and fail, at everything egg-white.  After working for two years at Ici Ice Cream in Berkeley, making meringues and chiffon cakes, marshmallows, and baked Alaskas, every single day, he took me under his whipping wing and fostered fearlessness in my little heart.

This is the foolproof recipe he taught me for pavlova, which is simply a marshmallowy meringue bed with a berries and cream comforter, and it originally comes from the peerless Flo Braker.  I just added some Persian flavors, with saffron, rose, and cardamom, and now the dessert tastes like my childhood in a bowl.

I moved the baked meringue around a few times too many in an attempt to get the best photos, so instead of assembling it whole, I broke it up and layered it in a vase with all of the accoutrements and gifted it to a friend as a trifle.  It worked beautifully that way, too but if you're going to go the trifle route, assemble within an hour of serving, because the meringue will start to dissolve soon thereafter.

For the meringue:

• 1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar 
• 2 1/4 teaspoons cornstarch
• 3/4 cup granulated sugar
• 3 ounces (about 3) large egg whites at room temperature
• Pinch of salt
• Pinch of saffron, ground in a mortar and pestle and dissolved in 2 tablespoons boiling water, cooled

For the topping:

• 1 cup each sliced strawberries, raspberries, blueberries and blackberries, kept separate
• 4 tablespoons rosewater
• Dried rose petals (I used rosebud tea from Far Leaves Tea) for garnish
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom
• 2 cups heavy cream, chilled
• 1/4 cup granulated sugar, plus 1/4 cup granulated sugar

Place rack in the middle of the oven and preheat the oven to 250°F. Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper.  Stir the cornstarch into the sugar in a small bowl.

In a large bowl of a heavy-duty mixer, fitted with whisk attachment, whip egg whites, cream of tartar and salt, starting on low, increasing incrementally to medium speed until soft peaks/trails start to become visible, and the egg white bubbles are very small and uniform, approximately 2 to 3 minutes.

 Increase speed to medium-high, slowly and gradually sprinkling in the sugar-cornstarch mixture. A few minutes after these dry ingredients are added, slowly pour saffron tea. Increase speed a bit and whip until meringue is glossy, and stiff peaks form when the whisk is lifted, 4 to 5 minutes.

Spoon the meringue into an 9-by-6-inch oval on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper or a silicon liner. With the back of a spoon, create an indentation in the middle of the mound for holding the filling once meringue is baked.

Place baking sheet in the oven. Reduce oven temperature to 225°F. Bake for 50-60 minutes, or until the meringues are crisp, dry to the touch on the outside, and white -- not tan-colored or cracked. The interior should have a marshmallow-like consistency. Check on meringue at least once during the baking time. If it appears to be taking on color or cracking, reduce temperature 25 degrees, and turn pan around.

Gently lift the meringue from the baking sheet and cool on a wire rack. It will keep in a tightly sealed container at room temperature for up to a week barring any humidity.

While the meringue is baking, macerate the berries.  In separate dishes, macerate each type of berry with 1 tablespoon rosewater and 1 tablespoon sugar for at least 30 minutes to draw out their juices.

Add the cardamom and 1/4 cup sugar to the cream and whip to soft peaks.  

To assemble, place the meringue on your serving dish then spoon in whipped cream.  Spoon juicy berries atop the cream.  Top with crushed dried rose petals.  Serve with fresh mint tea.  

Indian Fried Chicken with Mango Chutney Glaze

So many people asked how I made the Indian Fried Chicken I posted on Instagram that I figured I'd just post a recipe here for everyone.  I have to say, it was pretty darned tasty.  

For the chicken

• One 3-3 1/2 pound chicken, cut into ten pieces, or 5 chicken thighs, boned and cut in half
• Salt
• 1 1/2 tablespoons curry powder
• 2 teaspoons ground cumin
• 1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper

For the batter and frying

• 3 large eggs
• 2 cups buttermilk 
• 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt (or 1/4 teaspoon sea salt)
• 2 cups all purpose flour
• 1 tablespoon curry powder
• 1 teaspoon paprika
• 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
• 1 teaspoon kosher salt (or 1/2 teaspoon sea salt)
• 4-6 cups peanut or grapeseed oil

For the mango chutney glaze

• 1 cup mango chutney
• 3 tablespoons water
• 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
• Pinch of salt

Directions

Season the chicken with salt, curry powder, cumin and cayenne pepper.  Cover and chill for at least 3 hours, or overnight.

Whisk eggs, buttermilk, and 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt together in a large bowl.

Whisk flour, curry powder, paprika, cayenne pepper, and 1 teaspoon kosher salt together in another large bowl.  

Fit a Dutch oven with a thermometer and pour in 2 inches of oil.  Bring to 325°F over medium high heat.  Pat chicken dry.  One piece at a time, dredge chicken in flour, then buttermilk, then back to flour, then place onto a baking sheet.  Let excess drip from the chicken after each dip in buttermilk or flour.  

Cook the chicken in at least two batches, letting the oil return to 325°F in between.  Carefully slip chicken into the oil, turning occasionally, until the skin is deep golden brown, about 12-15 minutes per piece.  

Transfer to a clean wire rack inside a baking sheet. 

To make the glaze, heat the chutney, water, cayenne pepper and salt in a small saucepan over high heat.  Bring to a boil, and reduce a tiny bit, if needed, until it's reached a the consistency of a thin jam.  Brush the chicken generously with the glaze and serve immediately with yogurt, piles of cilantro, Indian lime pickle, and warm naan.    

Serves 4-6

Recipe: Parsi Deviled Eggs

I didn't grow up eating deviled eggs, so I don't have a sense of nostalgia for any one particular version of them.  To be honest, I actually have to be in just the right mood to even want to eat them at all.  But the first time I had this version, from Niloufer Ichaporia King, I was a goner. As Patty Unterman first wrote in the SF Examiner, Niloufer found this recipe in a book published in Bombay in the 1940s, with the confounding title of "Italian Eggs."  The flavors, though, aren't Italian at all--they're much more reminiscent of India, Thailand, Vietnam or Mexico.  Make these, and soon they will be your preferred version of deviled eggs, too, no matter what you want to call them!

Ingredients

• 6 large eggs, hard-cooked
• Juice of 1-2 limes
• 1 teaspoon honey
• Salt 
• 1/2 jalapeño pepper, seeded and minced 
• 2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh cilantro
• 1/4 cup mayonnaise
• Cilantro leaves for garnish

Directions

Shell the eggs, cut them in half, and put the yolks in small bowl.  Set the egg whites aside.

Add all of the remaining ingredients, apart from the mayonnaise, to the yolks and mash with a fork until well combined.  Make sure the honey is well distributed.

Stir in the mayonnaise and taste.  Adjust lime and salt as needed.  

Spoon the mixture into the egg whites, cover, and refrigerate for at least 2 hours or overnight.  

To serve, let the eggs return to room temperature and garnish with cilantro leaves.

Egg Month!

Bean Month was such an unexpectedly wonderful success that I am declaring March #EggMonth!  And I'm challenging all of you omnivores out there to replace the meat in one dinner each week with eggs!

To help you on your way, I'll be posting recipes, articles, resources and all sorts of links, both here and on Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, and Pinterest, all tagged with the #EggMonth hashtag.  I encourage all of you to follow along and contribute with photos, posts, recipes, and resources of your own--I'll make an effort to share it all.

Plus, I have some INCREDIBLE giveaways lined up!  Every Monday, I'll announce a new giveaway for the week.  To be eligible to win, simply post an egg-related photo to Instagram, Twitter, or Facebook and use the #EggMonth hashtag.  I'll choose a winner each Monday from among the previous week's contributors and get in touch so I can get you your prize.  

Good Luck, and Happy Egg Month!  

Bean Month, So Far

#Beanmonth is off to an incredible start!  Here are a bunch of posts from the far flung corners of the internet:

In classic style, The Joy of Cooking tells you everything you need to know about Cooking Dried Beans

Russ Parsons stirs up an age-old debate: To Soak or Not To Soak

Phyllis made some Good Old Bean Soup to get her through her last cold over at Dash and Bella

Heidi's recipe for Pan-Fried Giant White Beans with Kale is no-fail via Food52

Julia Nishimura made some insanely beautiful Tuscan Pork and White Beans (a major achievement considering it's a dish not typically known for its beauty)

Adam at Amateur Gourmet lists the Things You Can Do With A Big Pot Of Beans

Elizabeth Minchilli in Rome makes it easy, listing all of her bean recipes for you, here

Learn how to turn one pot of beans into five meals from the Canal House ladies via Food52

Learn about Leather Britches from Sean Brock on Food Republic

Food52 also tells you The Best Ways to Use Canned Beans

How to Cook Beans in the Oven at The Kitchn

Learn how to can your own beans from Punk Domestics

Make feijoada, like the good folks at Good Eggs NYC

Kim O'Donnel shares a recipe for Black Bean Sweet Potato Chili

Heidi's recipe for a beautiful Ayocote Bean and Mushroom Salad

Sarah posted her take on Melissa Clark's Beans Braised with Bacon and Red Wine

Judy Witts Francini shares the ribollita recipe from Trattoria Mario, one of my favorite lunch spots in Florence

Olivia at The Coast Kitchen shares her recipe for Lemon Lentil Soup

And, right here: 
Cal Peternell's Fagioli all'Amatriciana
Mary Oliver's Beans
Cooking (beans) with Italian Grandmothers
Bean Resources


Instagram Photos

@sansculottes made these beautiful beans all'Amatriciana

@andreagentl did right by these beautiful chestnut beans with this moody photo, then she turned them into soup

@dominicarice's corona beans with pork adobo

@fieldsofplenty's beautiful pozole with black-eyed peas and smoked brisket

@juliaostro's Tuscan pork and Beans

@danalouisevelden's La Chamba bean pot took the internet by storm

@tifamade cooked up some mung beans

@claraygray turned these black badger beans into curry

@heyk8 cooked dried beans for the first time!

@goodeggsnyc turned these black beans into an occasion for tacos

@dashandbella went above and beyond with this navy bean gratin baked with bacon and bread crumbs

@melinahammer's lentils with watermelon radish and avocado sure brighten things up!

Post your own photos with the #beanmonth hashtag so I can see and repost them!

Spotify Playlist
#BEANMONTH

Pinterest
BEANS

Books
The Best Bean Cookbooks, According to Omnivore

Heirloom Bean Sources:
Rancho Gordo
Zursun
Rancho Llano Seco
Good Eggs: SF, NYC, NOLA, LA
Jalama Valley
CUESA: Tierra Vegetables, Lonely Mountain Farm, Dirty Girl Produce, and Iacopi Farms

(Know of any other great sources for heirloom beans?  Let me know and I'll add them to the list!  And keep posting with the tag!  I'll do another round-up next week!)

BEAN MONTH

photo source

Growing up, I didn't really feel one way or another about beans.  Here and there, I'd eat a few chickpeas, fava beans, or kidney beans, and lots of pinto beans alongside burritos.  They were fine.

But during the first summer I worked in the kitchen at Chez Panisse, I fell in love with beans.  Every Monday we received a shipment of vegetables from Chino Ranch, and it was my job to unpack it and put everything away.  That summer, I saw true cranberry beans for the first time--as red and round as their namesake fruit--and peeled fresh giant lima beans we simmered and serve alongside braised pork.  I was still in college, still planning to head to graduate school for poetry upon graduation, and I reveled in the names of the varietals--Dragon's Tongue, Painted Pony, Lina Sisco's Bird Egg, Coco Bianco and Coco Nero, Tiger's Eye, Snow Cap, and Jacob's Cattle.

And then, I tasted them.  I'd never known a bean could be so satisfyingly creamy or so sweet.  I was a goner.

I've loved beans ever since.  The first article I pitched to a magazine was about shelling beans.  They were the first seeds I planted when I started to garden.  I buy beans at the market in every country I visit.

But what cemented my interest in beans as a cooking teacher, and why I want to dedicate this month to celebrating beans is this: a couple of years ago, I heard Mark Bittman say was that he'd consider his career a success if he could get every family in America to make rice and beans once a week. I couldn't agree more.  Besides being beautiful and labeled with playful names, beans are accessible, cheap, nutritious and delicious.  They are easy to cook, and lend themselves to a thousand different uses in the kitchen.

And since beans are for everyone, I'm declaring January #beanmonth.  I'll be posting all sorts of links, recipes, resources, photos, poems, and more here, and on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram.  I've started a board on Pinterest dedicated to BEANS, and I've invited friends all around the internet to join me.  Wendy MacNaughton and I are even planning a very special giveaway at the end of the month.    

Come, follow along!  Share your own recipes, links and photos with the #beanmonth hashtag.  I'd love to see everyone's favorite ways to cook and eat beans!

p.s. Lentils and chickpeas count!

Recipe: Summer Paella

Paella isn't that hard to make; it's just a bit of a time commitment.

The key to tasty paella is tasty stock.  

Bomba

rice, the traditional rice used in paella, is somewhat miraculous because it absorbs three times its weight in liquid.  Hence, the more flavorful your liquid, the more flavorful your paella.

Some other time, I'll talk you through making a simple, delicious fish stock.  But since most of us have chicken stock on hand, or

know how to make it

, let's start with a chicken and chorizo paella.

This paella served 12 people with abundant leftovers, and took 15 cups (just shy of a gallon) of chicken stock.  I made a stock the night before with chicken wings, bones, vegetables and herbs.  I added some canned tomatoes, two cups of white wine, a couple of dried chilies, and a pinch of saffron because I knew I'd be adding those flavors into the paella anyway.

I cannot overstate the importance of using homemade chicken stock here.  If homemade is simply not an option for you, buy some of the good stuff from your local butcher shop.  Frozen is fine.  Just do your best to avoid the stuff from a can or box.  It just doesn't taste as good, and here, the flavor of the stock is paramount.

I also made a chile paste by rehydrating about 8 dried chilies (any kind that is not too spicy is fine--espelette, ancho, New Mexico).  First, I seeded and stemmed them, then covered them with boiling water and let them sit for about 20 minutes.  Then I strained the chiles and pureed them with a few spoonfuls of the chile water and some olive oil.

I cooked mine over a live fire.  If you have a grill or firepit, build a fire using charcoal or wood at least an hour before you plan to start.  The paella should go onto a fire at its peak, and then cook over a dying flame.  You could also cook it over a gas grill, or even inside over a gas burner on the stove.

Summer Chicken & Chorizo Paella

serves 6

For the chicken & chorizo:

6 chicken thighs, skin on

3 bay leaves

1 teaspoon fresh coriander seed

1 teaspoon cumin seed, toasted lightly

2 teaspoons ancho chile powder (or any dried chile powder)

1 tablespoon smoky paprika

Salt

1 pound fresh chorizo, sliced into 1-inch pieces

For the stock:

5 cups homemade chicken stock

2 cups dry white wine

1 head garlic, halved

4 ounces canned tomatoes

2 dried chiles

3 bay leaves

pinch saffron

For the

sofrito

:

1 large or 2 medium yellow onions, peeled and diced

3 garlic cloves, sliced

8 ounces canned tomatoes

pinch saffron

Olive oil

Also:

Pepper paste, as described above (or just use some store-bought harissa from the tube)

2 cups

arroz bomba

, or in a pinch, arborio rice

1 pound romano or green beans, cut into 1-inch pieces

To garnish,

abundant chopped parsley

homemade aïoli

The night before (or as early as possible),

marinate the chicken:

Combine chicken, bay leaves, coriander, cumin, ancho chile, and paprika.  Season with salt.  Make sure everything is evenly coated and refrigerate overnight.

To make the paella: 

If you're going to cook the rice over a live fire, go build it now.

First,

gussy up the chicken stock.

 Combine in a large pot with the wine, garlic, tomatoes, chiles, bay leaves and saffron, and bring to a boil.  Simmer for about 30 minutes to let the flavors come together.  Strain, season with salt, and set aside.  You should have six cups of stock.

While the stock is cooking,

make the

sofrito

.  

Saute the onions and garlic with the bay leaves until tender.  Squish in the tomatoes and cook down until jammy, about 20 minutes.  Season with salt and set aside.

About an hour before you start cooking the rice,

roast the thighs

: lay them skin-side up on a cookie sheet in an oven set to 500°F for about 30 minutes, to brown the skin and give them a head start.

To cook the paella:

If cooking over a live fire, you'll want to set the grill at least 8 inches from the coal bed.  Use some bricks or cinder blocks to achieve this if you don't have a way to raise and lower the grill.

You can also just as easily cook it over a gas grill or indoors on the stove.  And you don't need a special paella pan, though it makes for a good show and they aren't very costly.  I made a back up at the same time as the one in the photo, in a ten-inch cast iron pan, on my stove, using the proportions in this recipe, and it turned out beautifully.  

First, preheat the pan.  Get it really hot, and then drizzle in enough olive oil to coat the bottom.  Add the

sofrito

and a heaping spoonful of the pepper paste.  Add in 6 cups of the stock, and let it come to a boil in the pan.  Taste the liquid.  It should be very highly seasoned--this is your only chance to get the rice salted properly from within, so season it a little more highly than you might be comfortable with.  Add more chile paste to taste.  

Add the rice, give it a stir, and let everything return to a boil.  Carefully lay in the chicken pieces, chorizo, and romano or green beans.  Let the pan boil for about five minutes, and then turn it down to medium high heat.  After ten more minutes, turn it down to medium.  Cook it over medium heat for 15 minutes, and then reduce the heat to low for 15 more minutes.  The idea with paella is that it's cooked over a dying fire, so you're trying to simulate that on the stove here.  

After about 40 minutes, check the rice for doneness.  When you're satisfied that it's cooked, pull it from the stove and let it rest for about 5 minutes, then sprinkle with abundant chopped parsley and serve with aïoli.  

Don't forget to scrape the bottom.  The

soccarat

, or burnt crust, is the best part.

All I Want to Eat

is cold things.

Mostly cold noodles.  And cold chicken.  And coleslaw.  And cold coffee.  And smoothies.  Watermelon.  Cucumbers.  Ice.

Here are a couple of sauces for cold things that have been making my life a little nicer lately.

Miso-Mustard Dressing

2 tablespoons yellow or white miso paste

1 tablespoon honey

1 tablespoon dijon mustard

2 tablespoons rice wine vinegar

1 tablespoon toasted sesame oil

Put it all in a jar.  Shake it up.  Taste.  Adjust.  Pour over anything, or everything.  Notice I wrote it all out in tablespoons, so use the same ratio for teaspoons or cups to adjust amounts as desired.

Yesterday I put this on a slaw with cabbage, onions, carrots, peanuts, toasted black sesame seeds, ginger and garlic.  Today I will put it on lettuce.  Tomorrow, maybe cucumbers.  Or chicken.  Or soba noodles.  Put it on whatever you want.  Save the rest in the fridge.  It'll be good for a few days.  It'll be gone before that, though.

Peanut-Cilantro Sauce

2 tablespoons fish sauce

2 tablespoons rice wine vinegar

Juice of 2 limes

2 tablespoons soy sauce

1/2 inch chunk of ginger, peeled and sliced

4 tablespoons peanut butter

1 tablespoon sesame oil

1/2 jalapeño pepper

1 clove garlic

1/2 bunch cilantro, roughly chopped

Put it all in the blender.  Blend the bejeesus out of it.  Taste.  Adjust as needed with salt, lime, and jalapeño.  Serve with grilled chicken.  Smear on a hot ear of corn.  Or raw vegetables, like carrots, cucumbers, broccoli.  It can be a dip!  It can be a sauce!  It can be whatever you want it to be.

Happy summer, friends.  I am finally on my way out of the pit of despair.

Recipe: Saffron-Cardamom Carrot Cake

My friend Kathleen's birthday fell on Diwali this year, so we cooked a big Indian feast for her and I wanted to make a cake that fit in with the flavors.

Carrots and saffron are a natural pair, so I made a carrot cake spiced with cardamom and saffron, and then I grated a bunch of fresh ginger into the cream cheese frosting and used up all the gold leaf I had on top.  

Saffron-Cardamom Carrot Cake

4 ounces (1 stick) butter, plus more for the cake pan

1 big pinch saffron threads

2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1 1/4 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 1/4 teaspoons cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon nutmeg

3/4 teaspoons ground cardamom

1 1/2 teaspoons Diamond Crystal kosher salt

4 eggs at room temperature

3/4 cup sugar

3/4 cup dark brown sugar, packed

1/2 cup oil (I used grapeseed)

1 cup crushed pineapple

3 cups grated carrots, loosely packed (about 1 pound carrots before peeling)

Optional: 1/2 cup raisins

Optional: 1/2 cup toasted, chopped walnuts

Preheat the oven to 350°F.  Adjust a baking rack to the center of the oven.  

Melt the butter in a small pan over low heat.  Add the saffron and let it steep for at least ten minutes.  

Butter and flour two straight-sided 9-inch cake pans, then line with parchment and butter again.  You can also make this cake in a single 9 x 13-inch pan and skip the butter/flour/parchment and just frost and eat it in the pan. 

Sift together the flour, powder, soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, cardamom, and salt into a bowl and set aside.  

In a larger bowl, combine the eggs, white and brown sugars, oil, pineapple, carrots, and if using, raisins and/or walnuts.  Add the butter-saffron mixture.

Using a rubber spatula, gently fold the flour mixture into the carrot mixture in two or three batches.  Make sure that all of the flour is incorporated.

Divide into the cake pans and bake until the cakes are golden brown and just set, springing back to the touch and pulling away from the side of the pan, about 24-28 minutes (But don't blindly trust me! Check often!  Ovens are all different!)

Cool on a baking rack for at least 15 minutes before removing from the pan.  Allow to cool completely before removing parchment and frosting.

Cream Cheese Frosting with Fresh Ginger

3 8-ounce packages cream cheese, room temperature

2 ounces (1/2 stick) butter, room temperature

1-inch knob of fresh ginger, peeled

1 1/2 cups sugar

Using the paddle attachment on an electric mixer, whip together the cream cheese and butter, then grate in the ginger using a microplane grater.  Add the sugar and whip to combine.  Frost the cake and lick your fingers!

I don't like really sweet cakes or frostings, so both the cake and frosting recipes use less sugar than their traditional counterparts.  Taste the cake batter and frosting after you've added the sugar, and if you feel they need to be sweeter, then add more!

Maiale al Latte

Several people, after reading Cooked, have attempted to make Maiale al Latte, or pork cooked in milk, with varying degrees of success.  I've gotten a bunch of requests for guidance, so even though it's hardly something I'd cook myself in August, I'm just gonna go ahead and give you all a recipe for it so you can experience the counterintuitive deliciousness that happens when milk curdles and caramelizes around slow-cooked pork.

Traditionally, this dish is made with pork loin, but I prefer it with pork shoulder because rather than toughening with hours of cooking, it relaxes and becomes tender.

6 pounds pork shoulder, cut into two-pound chunks

Zest of 2 lemons, removed in 1-inch strips (I like to use a vegetable peeler for this)

12 sage leaves

12 garlic cloves, peeled

1 gallon whole milk

Salt

Freshly ground black pepper, if desired

The night before cooking, season the pork generously with salt on all sides.  If desired, season with freshly ground black pepper as well.

The day of cooking, pull the meat out a few hours before you're ready to start.

When it's time to start cooking, get out your biggest dutch oven (maybe two dutch ovens, if you've got them!).  Heat it over medium heat, and when it's nice and hot, lightly coat the bottom of the pot with olive oil.  Place as much meat in the pan so that it's packed in a single layer--no more--and the meat isn't touching, and brown over medium-high heat on all sides until it's nice and golden all around.  You might have to do this in a couple batches.

When the meat is all brown, turn off the flame, tip out the grease and place the meat back into the pot.  Now, it's ok if it touches, but it should still all be in a single layer, no more.  If you have more meat than will fit in the pan in a single layer, use a second pan for the rest of the meat.  Add the zest, the sage, and the garlic cloves, and then enough milk to go halfway up the sides of the meat.  I usually will squeeze in the juice of half a lemon to get the curdling going faster, though the oil from the zest is actually enough to curdle the milk.  So, do it or not--you can't mess it up either way.  Turn the heat on, cover the pot (but leave the lid ajar), and bring the milk to a boil, then immediately reduce to a gentle simmer.  The milk should be just barely active, so usually this means that the burner is on the lowest possible heat.  Milk has a lot of sugar in it, and it will burn super easily, so turn it down!

It will take the pork shoulder at least three hours to become tender, so pull up a good book, or take this time to make some polenta, beans, or greens.  Clean your kitchen.  Sort through old family photos.  Organize your spice shelf.  Whatever you do, don't leave the kitchen, because you're going to have to do three things for the duration of the cooking to make sure things don't go awry:

1) turn the pork pieces--as in rotate them and move them around in the pot--every fifteen minutes or so so that they don't stick and burn,

2) scrape the bottom of the pot with a wooden spoon to make sure that the milk, though it will caramelize and that is really tasty, does not burn,

3) constantly be adding more milk so that the total liquid level never is less an inch and a half up the sides of the pork.

After about 30-40 minutes, the milk will start to curdle and thicken, and though it looks really gross at first (Who am I kidding?  It looks pretty gross the whole time), it will taste so so so so so good.  But those curds are prone to burning, so take your stirring seriously.

When the meat falls apart to the touch--this might take 3 hours, or closer to 4, then it's done.  Remove the pork from the pan, and do your best to skim off some of the insane levels of fat that have rendered out of both the pork and the milk.  For something like this, the easiest way to do that (short of chilling the whole thing overnight and scraping off the cold fat) is to pour all of the curd sauce into a tall, narrow container like a measuring cup, and then use a spoon or a ladle to siphon the fat off the top. Once you've gotten the fat off (or most of it), taste the sauce and adjust the salt if necessary.

Slice the pork into portions, and serve with generous amounts of the sauce.  This is traditionally served with polenta, greens, or white beans.  I like it with a big pile of barely blanched green beans, so that I have something really fresh to eat alongside the super comforting, really cooked pork.

I purposely wrote the recipe for 10+ portions, so you'd have leftovers.  For this much of a time investment, you should get a few meals!!!

Something Out of Nothing: Homemade Almond Extract

A lot of people aren't into almond extract, and I can totally understand why.  I went through a serious period of hating all things almond, except almonds.  Marzipan, frangipane, almond extract--I didn't understand their relationship to almonds at all.  It was sort of like claiming that grape popsicles were related to grapes.  Uh, I don't think so.

Then, I went to Italy.  I ate almonds from Sicily, so fragrant they'd make roses jealous.  Holy schnikeys were they good.  Suddenly, I understood what almond extract was going for.

image source

Eventually, I learned about

drupes

, the family of fruits that includes both stone fruits like apricots, peaches and cherries, and almonds.  I ate peach leaf ice cream at Chez Panisse.  (Yes, PEACH LEAF!  Can you believe if you steep peach leaves in cream they give off an incredibly faint yet delicious almond flavor?!  Talk about making something out of nothing!)  As an intern in the pastry department, I'd spend hours liberating bitter apricot kernels, or

noyaux

, from the pits, so that they could be used to flavor desserts.  I think the most delicious ice cream I have ever had is Burnt Caramel-

Noyaux

from

Ici Ice Cream

.  I can't even begin to imagine how many

noyaux

 Mary had to stockpile to make a few gallons of that stuff.   Because that's the thing, you need kind of a lot of them to lend flavor to something.

Anyway, usually, I just crack all of the

noyaux

from my apricots, throw them in a cheesecloth pouch and cook them into the jam I make each June.  But last year, I had a little stash that didn't make it into the jam, so I decided to try my hand at almond extract.

As it turns out, almond extract is actually made from

noyaux

or other forms of bitter almonds, because they taste more almondy than almonds themselves.  Pure almond extract is made by suspending the oil extracted from bitter almonds in water and alcohol.  Since I don't have the sophisticated tools to do that on my own, I just cracked all of my

noyaux

, combined them with some lovely, fragrant almonds from Riverdog Farm, poured a bunch of vodka over them, and put them in a dark bottle in the back of a kitchen cupboard.

I wish we had smell-o-vision (smell-o-net?) so you could experience what I got.  Pure heaven.  Last night, when I made this year's batch of apricot jam, I added some of the

noyaux

liquor when it was done and almost fainted from the deliciousness.  Yikes.  Now, I'm turning all of the new

noyaux

into next year's extract.

One warning

:

Bitter almonds do contain a small amount of cyanide

, so you're not supposed to eat a whole bunch of them, and I assume that some of the cyanide makes its way into the extract, so please don't go drinking shots of it.  A teaspoon here, a tablespoon there in a recipe hasn't killed me yet.  But no overdosing on the extract.  Got it?

***UPDATE:

If you're totally freaked out about poisoning yourself, I've heard that toasting the

noyaux

 at 325°F for ten to fifteen minutes will destroy the enzyme that contains the cyanide.  

Homemade Almond Extract

30 apricot pits*

2 cups vodka or everclear, though I bet brandy would be nice, too

To extract the

noyaux

, simply line them on a kitchen towel placed on a counter or on the ground outside (I did it in the driveway), cover with another kitchen towel, and use a hammer to tap each pit until it cracks.  Then, remove the kernels.  Some will break, and that's ok.

Place in a mason jar or dark glass jar, and keep in a dry, cool cupboard.  Give it a shake every day (or as often as you remember).  It took mine about 3 months to really get sufficiently almondy, and at that time, I strained out the

noyaux

and replaced with fresh ones I'd kept in the freezer to really fortify the flavor.

To use, strain the extract through a cheesecloth or coffee filter, and keep in a dry, cool place.  Use as you would any other extract.

*If you don't anticipate eating 30 apricots in one sitting, you can freeze the pits until you've collected enough, and then extract the

noyaux

in one fell swoop.

Home Ec: Thanksgiving Basics--Charlie's Prune and Sausage Stuffing

This is Charlie's sausage and prune stuffing, which I have whole-heartedly adopted as my own.  The prunes and wine offer much-needed acid to balance out the sweetness of the vegetables, and everything else on the Thanksgiving table.

This stuffing is SO GOOD when fried up the next day, served with a poached egg for breakfast.  Total heaven.

photo:

Aya Brackett

for

Martha Stewart

Ingredients

1 loaf (2 pounds) day-old country bread, crust removed and bread torn into 1-inch cubes

4 cups chicken stock

12 ounces prunes, cut into 1/2-inch pieces (about 2 cups)

3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus more if needed

2 bunches hearty leafy greens, such as Tuscan kale, stemmed and coarsely chopped (about 8 cups)

2 pounds sweet Italian sausage, casings removed, crumbled

5 celery stalks, chopped

4 carrots, chopped

2 onions, chopped

Coarse salt and freshly ground pepper

1/2 cup chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley

1 tablespoon chopped fresh thyme

3 tablespoons finely chopped fresh sage

1/2 cup dry white wine

2 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into pieces

Preheat oven to 250°F. Bake bread on a baking sheet in a single layer until dried but not browned, about 15 minutes. Remove bread, and let cool. Raise oven temperature to 350°F.

Bring stock to a boil in a medium saucepan. Remove from heat. Add prunes, and let soak for 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, heat 2 tablespoons oil in a large high-sided skillet over medium-high heat. Working in batches, cook greens until tender, seasoning with salt as you go, about 10 minutes, and transfer to a plate. Let cool. Wipe out skillet.

Heat remaining tablespoon oil in skillet over medium heat. Brown sausage, stirring occasionally, until just cooked through and no longer pink, about 10 minutes. Transfer to a large bowl using a slotted spoon. Add more oil to skillet if needed, and cook celery, carrots, and onions until tender, about 6 minutes. Season with salt and pepper.

Drain prunes, reserving poaching liquid. Add prunes, bread, greens, and vegetable mixture to bowl with sausage. Gradually add reserved poaching liquid (about 2 1/2 cups) and wine, stirring to combine. Stir in parsley, sage and thyme. Season with salt and pepper.  The mixture should be really juicy, salty, and balanced with the acid from the wine.

Divide stuffing between two buttered  9-by-13-inch baking dishes. Dot tops with butter. Bake until browned, about 45 minutes.

something out of nothing: basic chicken stock

every time i teach a pantry or salt class, we end up on the topic of chicken stock.  so after salt class the other day, i promised to put up a recipe, or more accurately, a basic guide for how to make and keep it.

here's the thing: as a restaurant cook, i was trained to think that freezers are exclusively meant for storing ice cream, and maybe a few other little things.  and it's true--who wants to pay all of that money to eat in a restaurant only to be served reheated frozen foods that were made days, or even weeks, ago? no one.

as a result, i applied my restaurant-cook snobbery to my home-cooking philosophy for a long time.  and let's face it, as a restaurant cook, i wasn't really making dinner at home on a regular basis, so i didn't really realize what home cooks are up against.

since i left restaurants three years (!) ago, i've really changed my tune.  big time.  now, there is no bigger proponent of the freezer than me.  and the number one thing i use mine for is chicken stock, and chicken stock to-be.  because if you have chicken stock on hand, you're options for a quick dinner are practically endless: broth with spinach and a poached egg, noodle soup, stracciatella, pho, bean stew, risotto, paella, brown rice or quinoa cooked in stock, panade, stuffing.  i mean, seriously.  don't make me list all of the uses for stock here.

every time i roast a chicken, i cut off the neck/head, feet, and wingtips (and lately, the backbone) before salting it and throw them all into the freezer in a plastic bag.  then, after cooking it, i add the carcass into the plastic bag.  since one chicken carcass isn't really enough to warrant a pot of stock, i save up three or four and make stock every month or two.  i also save onion ends, the last stalk of celery that's about to go rubbery, parsley stems, and carrot bits in a bag in the freezer.  when my freezer can no longer contain the mess, i empty it all out into a big pot and prepare to make stock.

if all i have is roasted bones, then i'll trek out to the butcher shop and buy a pound of gelatinous chicken heads and feet, or some wingtips, which will add a ton of body and richness to the stock.  otherwise, i literally just clean out the freezer, and anything appropriate from the fridge, and go for it:

• 3-4 carcasses worth of chicken bones, including some raw ones, ideally
• one large or two small carrots
• one rib of celery
• one large or two small onions (peel on is fine)
• a few peppercorns
• a sprig of thyme, if i have it
• a bay leaf, if i have it
• some parsley stems, if i have them
• a leek, if i have it
• a head of garlic, halved, if i have it (unpeeled is fine)

i'll get out a nice, big pot, throw all of that in there, and then cover with water.  

bring it up to a boil over high heat, and then turn down to a simmer.  at this time, i'll add a splash of vinegar to help draw out nutrients and minerals from the bones into the stock, but you can skip that if you want. 

skim the scum with a ladle if you feel like it.  sometimes, i'm too lazy to do that.  just make sure the stock doesn't boil, and that too much water doesn't evaporate.  the bones should always remain submerged.  

i like to leave the stock on overnight (don't tell the landlord).  i'll cover the pot to ensure it doesn't all boil away, and leave it over the lowest flame possible, and let it go for 6-8 hours.  if this is completely terrifying for you, then do it in the daytime, for at least 4 hours from the time it comes to a boil, but preferably longer (that's when the bones really start to break down and let all of their goodness into the broth).

once you're satisfied that the stock is done, strain out the bones and let it cool.  now, you can let the whole pot chill and skim the hardened fat off the top, or try to skim the fat off the top with a ladle.  if it's near passover, save the chicken fat for your matzoh balls.

i like to pour the stock into old yogurt containers and mason jars and freeze it.  i like having different amounts available for quick use, so i'll put away some pints and some quarts, and some larger containers, too.  if freezer space is a big problem, you can reduce the stock by boiling it down after removing the fat from the top, and freeze smaller containers of the more potent stuff (ice cube trays work well for this, too), then just add some water back into whatever you're cooking later.

if you freeze mason jars, leave plenty of headroom for the stock to expand, and use wide-mouth jars to prevent breakage and headaches in the future.  you can also process mason jars of stock in a pressure canner, and then they'll be shelf-stable and you can avoid the freezer altogether.  

now, you can start saving chicken bones again for the next round of stock.

Summer HEAT: skillet cornbread

photo:

kiwiasia

people tend to assume that things at chez panisse must always have some sort of upper-crust lineage, but what i love about that restaurant more than almost anything else is the way it values quality, regardless of its source.

buttermilk fried chicken--or quail, or rabbit--is on regular rotation on the menu in the cafe, and often, it's served with skillet cornbread.  i remember the first time i got to prepare the dish.  i was instructed to get out the tattered, barely legible notebook kept in the end hutch with the knives left behind by stagieres and look up the recipe for cornbread.  i thought perhaps i'd find something written in scott peacock's handwriting, or notes attributed to edna lewis.  instead, i found the back of an

alber's corn meal

box.

yep.  the cornbread recipe at cp is basically copied off the back of the box.  it's the recipe i've used ever since, with the baking powder and sugar proportions slightly reduced, and the cornmeal proportion increased.  and of course, at the restaurant they always use the most delicious cornmeal they can find, weather it's mais pignulet from piemonte or anson mills cornmeal, or red flint cornmeal from community grains.

i just made this the other day with blue cornmeal from

full belly farm

, and it couldn't have been any sweeter or corn-ier tasting.  so. effing. delicious.

it's also really, really tasty slathered with salted honey butter.  or, with some lightly sauteed fresh corn kernels folded into the batter.

skillet cornbread

2 1/2 cups corn meal

2 cups all-purpose flour

1/4 cup sugar

1 tablespoon baking powder

2 teaspoons salt, or 4 teaspoons kosher salt

2 cups milk or buttermilk

2/3 cup vegetable oil

2 eggs, lightly beaten

butter, bacon fat, or lard

preheat oven to 400°F.

combine cornmeal, flour, sugar, baking powder and salt in a large bowl.  combine milk, oil and egg in a small bowl;, mix well.  add milk mixture to flour mixture and stir until just blended.

over a medium flame, heat a 10 or 12-inch cast iron pan. drop in a generous lump of butter, bacon fat, or lard and let it melt.  pour in the prepared batter and let it sizzle for a few minutes over medium heat, until the edges just start to set.  throw the whole pan into the oven and let it bake for 20-25 minutes or until an inserted toothpick comes out clean.

immediately flip the cornbread out of the pan onto a cutting board.  serve slices warm, slathered with butter or honey butter.

p.s. for you skillet phobes, check out my

post on cast iron pans over at good eggs

Summer HEAT: grilled sweet corn & pepper salad

photo: colin price

hello, loyal blog readers and patient home ec students!  here's the first of the recipes i promised, from the summer round of home ec: understanding heat.  i've been eating one version or another of this corn salad almost every night.  SO DELICIOUS!

this salad is perfect with grilled steak, chicken, braised pork, rice/beans/tortillas, scrambled eggs, or really anything.  eat it all summer long!

Grilled Sweet Corn and Pepper Salad

• 3 ears sweet corn, shucked
• A couple of huge handfuls of sweet peppers, such as Jimmy Nardello's Frying Peppers, gypsy peppers, or even Pimientos de Padron, which aren't always sweet, but are quite excellent
• one spring onion (either red or white), or red onion
• a few cloves of garlic
• a couple of spicy little peppers, like serrano or jalapeno
• lots of limes--at least 4
• a couple of big handfuls of tomatoes...i've been using dry-farmed early girls, but heirlooms or cherry tomatoes would be fine, too.  just make sure they are sweet and tasty!
• 2 big or 4 small cucumbers
• 2 avocados
• 1 bunch cilantro
• salt
• good olive oil
• red wine vinegar, if you have it

First, peel, slice and macerate the onion in red wine vinegar.

Now, grill the vegetables that need to be grilled.  If you have a grill at home, get the coals going, and plan to cook over fairly hot coals.  If it's a gas grill, then preheat the grill and cook over fairly high heat. If you don't have a grill, then do what I do, and get out ye olde cast iron pan, heat it super hot, and blacken the corn and peppers in there in batches, letting them get nice and brown.  If you don't have a cast iron pan, crank your oven to a million degrees, throw a cookie sheet in there and let it get really hot, then toss in a single layer of peppers or corn at a time, after they have been tossed with olive oil and salt.  If you don't have an oven and a cookie sheet, well, then, I'm not sure you're reading the right blog.

Ok, back to the grill.  Basically, just toss the corn in a bowl with olive oil and salt, until it's lightly but evenly coated with oil.  Then, do the same with the peppers.  Grill the corn and peppers separately in batches, making sure not to crowd the grill or create a pile-up, allowing the skin to blister and blacken, and the flesh of the peppers and corn to cook through.  Over a sufficiently hot grill (or cast iron pan), this should take just a few minutes for each batch of peppers, and about 8-10 minutes for the corn.  But, I'm not there at your house, so it might take longer or shorter.  Ok?  Just use your judgement.

Peel and cut the cucumbers into chunks.  I like big one-inch chunks.

Core and wedge the tomatoes.  I like pretty big chunks here, too.  Muy rustico.

Chop the cilantro, including the stems.  Just get rid of any woody parts first.

Pound the garlic with a little salt into a fine paste.

Thinly slice the spicy peppers.

Strip the kernels of corn off the cobs.  Discard the cobs.

Get out your biggest bowl, and throw in the grilled peppers, corn, tomato and cucumber wedges, macerated onions (but not the vinegar), cilantro, the right amount of spicy peppers for your taste, a bit of the pounded garlic, some salt, some good olive oil, and the juice of 2 limes.  

Toss it all together-- use your hands!--and adjust salt, acid and oil as needed.  It might need more vinegar.  It might need more lime juice.  It will definitely need more salt.  Might also need some more garlic and spicy pepper, too.

Once you're almost there, tastewise, halve the avocados and scoop them in in big, rustic spoonfuls.  Adjust the salt and acid again, taste, adjust, taste, adjust, and serve!

If there is any left, it's delicious the next day, too!

5 x 5

I've been doing some short, informative, and funny (if you ask me) posts over at the Good Eggs blog about seasonal produce.  Take a look.

recipe: Marion's sticky buns

Marion Cunningham is the goddess of breakfast.

Last week I had a hankering for cinnamon rolls, so I decided to make them for Sunday, when I had to drop off brunch at a friend's house.  I scavenged through my books and the world wide web for a trusty recipe--one that wouldn't be too dense or dry.  I hate it when you spend two days on yeasted breakfast goodies only to pull them out of the oven and have them be bready.  Ugh.

I narrowed my choices down to

this

and

this

, but at the last minute, I remembered my trusty

Breakfast Book

, the one that has never done me wrong, and I switched gears and committed to Marion.

It was the right choice.  The dough was light and buttery, and there was no shortage of gooeiness.  In fact, the rolls might have been a little too gooey, if that's possible.  Next time, with a few little changes, like toasting the pecans first, maybe using some white sugar and burning the caramel a bit, and perhaps even adding a pinch of cinnamon (which Marion outlaws) these could become the dreamiest things ever to grace my breakfast table.  

Caramel-Pecan Sticky Buns

adapted from Marion Cunningham's

The Breakfast Book

makes two dozen buns

for the dough

1/2 cup warm water

4 1/2 teaspoons active yeast (2 packages)

2 cups milk, warmed

1 stick (4 oz.) butter, room temperature

6 tablespoons sugar

2 teaspoons salt

2 eggs, room temperature

6 cups flour, more or less

for the caramel glaze

2 sticks (8 oz.) butter

3 cups brown sugar

1/2 cup light corn syrup

3 cups broken pecan or walnut pieces

a heck of a lot of salt

if you want, some cinnamon

Put the water in a small bowl and sprinkle the yeast over.  Stir and let stand for 5 minutes to dissolve.

Put the warm milk, room temperature butter, sugar, salt, and eggs in a large mixing bowl and beat until well blended.  Add the yeast and 4 cups flour.  Mix vigorously.  Add only enough flour to make a soft, manageable dough.  Sprinkle a board with flour and turn dough out onto it.  Knead for 1 minute.  Let the dough rest for 10 minutes.  Resume kneading until the dough is smooth and elastic.  Put the dough in a greased bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and let rise until double in bulk.  

Make the caramel glaze.  Put the butter, brown sugar, and corn syrup in a heavy-bottomed saucepan.  Put the pan over medium heat and stir often until the butter is melted, the sugar is dissolved, and the mixture is well blended.  Add generous amounts of salt (I use Maldon or sel gris) to balance out the sweetness and saltiness.  If using cinnamon, add some to taste, maybe about one teaspoon.  Remove from the heat and pour one cup of the glaze into a small bowl.  Set aside.  Spread the remaining 2 cups glaze over the bottoms of three 8-inch cake pans.  

Toast the pecans or walnuts in a dry cast iron pan over medium-low heat, constantly stirring, or in a 350°F oven, until they are lightly golden, then sprinkle 1 cup of nuts over the glaze in each of the pans.  

Punch the dough down and divide into thirds; while you work with one part, cover the remaining pieces of dough.  Roll the first third of dough into a rectangle about 8 by 12 inches.  Spread 1/3 cup of the caramel glaze that has been set aside over the rectangle.  Loosely roll the rectangle from the wide side, making a long tube.  Cut into eight pieces, eace 1 1/2 inches thick.  Place the rounds, flat side down, in one of the cake pans.  Repeat with each remaining third of the dough.  Cover the pans loosely with plastic wrap, and if you want, at this point you can refrigerate overnight (heck, you could probably freeze some at this point, too).  Let the shaped dough rise for about 35 to 45 minutes, or until the dough looks a little puffy.  If pulling out of the fridge or freezer, naturally, this will take longer to achieve.  

Preheat the oven to 375°F.  Bake for 35 to 45 minutes, or until a skewer comes out clean when inserted into the center bun--there should be no dough clinging to the skewer.  Run a knife along the edge of the pans and invert onto a plate, or onto racks with waxed paper underneath to catch the dripping glaze.  

Serve warm.  

this last shot is by dave levin

favism.

did you know there's a disease called favism?  it's quite unrelated to fauvism, and it actually can be sorta serious, but sometimes its symptoms are as mild as itchy hands after touching favas.

if i'd known about it, i might have wished for favism as a child, because it might have been the only excuse palpable enough to get me out of one of my most dreaded chores: popping and peeling piles of raw fava beans.  favas, or baghali, are a favorite ingredient in the persian kitchen, and some of our most classic (and delicious) springtime dishes are made with these epic pains-in-the-butt.  now you know why iranians have big families--so they can force their kids to peel the abundant raw favas necessary for their canonical recipes.  

i love baghali polo, which is fava bean and dill rice, traditionally made on seezdeh-bedar, the thirteeth day of the new year, which usually works out to be april first or second.  i love it most when some of the favas favas fry in a bit of oil and become embedded in the tahdig, the crisp web of rice that forms at the bottom and edges of the pot.  somehow, they caramelize without burning, and they turn soft and creamy on the inside.  it's exquisite.  

but, baghali polo, and baghala ghatogh, a fava bean stew with eggs and dill, like pretty much every other persian dish, are incredibly labor intensive and time-consuming to prepare, so i rarely make them.  instead, i find myself using favas like i learned to at chez panisse, in pastas, salads, or other vegetable dishes, barely cooked or even raw, more often an accent than the focus of the dish.  in french and california cooking, the beans are popped from their soft, accomodating sleeping bags and then plunged into boiling water before being shocked in a bowl of ice.  talk about a rude awakening.  then, they're popped out of their skins and either served as-is, or gently heated and then taken where they're needed to go.  

it must be the brutal grasp of nostalgia that keeps me from truly loving favas served in this way.  i much prefer them cooked long and slow, until they are soft and sweet, drowned with herbs and olive oil.  something inexplicable happens to them (and all vegetables, i think) when they're tended to with heat, time and a gentle hand.  but then my californian tendencies get the best of me and i always end up balancing the depth and sweetness with some bright acidity, good salt, and a handful of fresh herbs.  

balancing labor and remembrance, ancestry and geography, new and old is at the heart of the way i cook. with those things in mind, i've been making this bastardized version of baghala ghatogh with all of the sweet favas popping up at the market: sweet, stewed favas with green garlic and dill smeared generously on toast and topped with a poached egg, good oil and a showering of garden herbs.  

Fava Bean and Dill Crostino with a Poached Egg

• Four cups shelled and peeled fava beans, or roughly five pounds of pods
• One big bunch of dill, or two little bunches, chopped finely
• Two white spring onions
• One bunch green garlic
• Good olive oil
• Salt
• Lemon
• Parsley, and cilantro if you like, chopped
• Four thick slices country bread
• Four farm eggs
• A little white vinegar

Pop and peel the favas.  You can either peel them raw or dip them into boiling water for a few seconds until their skins loosen and then chill them in ice water before peeling.

Clean and thinly slice the spring onions and green garlic, then stew with olive oil and a bit of water in a saute pan until tender.  Add a little salt.  It's ok if they start to color a little bit, but don't let them get too brown.

When all of that is soft, add the favas and another splash of water.  A good guzzle of olive oil and three quarters of the chopped dill.  Cook over medium-low heat, stirring often enough to prevent it from burning.  Use the back of a wooden spoon to smash the beans as they soften and encourage it all to turn into a paste.  Taste and adjust the salt.  Add more olive oil if it starts to look dry and pasty.

Toast the bread and, if you have one, swipe with a clove of garlic.  Smear with generous amounts of fava paste and sprinkle, if you have it, with some light, flaky salt such as Maldon.  Give the whole thing a squeeze of lemon, too.

Bring a small saucepot with at least two inches of water in it to a boil, then turn down to a hard simmer.  Add a few drops of vinegar.  Crack the eggs into coffee cups and poach.  Some people like to create a little whirlpool in the pot with a spoon before laying in the eggs, but it's not required.  I like to poach in pretty hot water, until the whites are just set.  

Remove the eggs from the water and dry the bottoms on a clean kitchen towel, then place on the toast.  Drizzle with a bright olive oil and shower with remaining dill, parsley and cilantro.  Serve immediately.