October 31, 2009

Greek Salad and Dressing


This giant chickpea will consume us all!

The secret to a good salad? FAT. Screw the whole 1980’s schtick where fat – any fat – is the source of all unsightly ills. You actually need fat to absorb the nutrients offered by the raw ingredients in a salad*. Plus, if a salad doesn’t offer the tasty, and you’ll be feeling hungry in half an hour after eating it, what’s the point?

Don’t believe me? Good for you! The last thing you should do is trust a webpage thrown up by some random schmuck who won’t even give their last name and is a little shaky on the whole concept of “cameras.” Skepticism is the key when it comes to nutrition advice. Hell, skepticism – just asking yourself “Is this too good to be true?” – is the key to avoiding many awkward Better Business Bureau reports that start with “So I was trying to contact the dead while wearing my tinfoil hat when…”

I promise, this recipe involves no tinfoil hats and minimal conversations with those beyond the grave. Instead, it offers a flavor that can best be defined as AWESOME.

Greek Salad and Dressing
Adapted from Kittencal’s wonderful original recipe on Recipezaar.  Makes 4 dinner-size servings.

Ingredients:
For dressing:
3 cloves of garlic, roasted/toaster oven’d until soft, then minced
2 Tbs dried oregano
2 Tbs dried or fresh basil, slivered
3 Tbs red wine vinegar
2 tsp Dijon mustard
1 tsp white sugar
½ tsp salt
Good quality extra-virgin olive oil

For salad:
1 14 oz can (approx. 1 ½ cups cooked) chickpeas, rinsed and drained
2-3 large carrots, peeled and diced
1 large bell pepper, diced
2 medium tomatoes, each cut into eighths
8 oz baby spinach

Optional garnishes:
Sun-dried tomatoes, drained and diced roughly
2 oz feta, crumbled (don’t cut it – break it up with your hands!)
¼ cup pitted kalamata olives, halved
Purple onion slivers
Freshly-ground black pepper

Directions:
1. In a 1-cup measuring glass, dissolve the sugar and salt into the red wine vinegar. Stir in the Dijon mustard and taste the dressing base; it should have a pleasant and strong taste, and be well-balanced between salty, sweet, sour, and savory. Adjust as needed.

2. Stir in the minced garlic, pressing it against the sides of the glass to release the oils. Stir in the herbs.

3. Add enough olive oil to bring the total volume to one cup. Stir it well to mix the ingredients.

4. Divide the spinach evenly between four plates. Pile the peppers, carrots, tomatoes, and chick peas onto the spinach. Top with the garnishes (I really recommend the feta and sun-dried tomatoes), and pour the dressing over the top. Ta-da! AWESOME.

* Want to go to some decent – as in, non-blog – webpages addressing health claims? Check out the USA’s Health and Human Resources (specifically, here) for more info on my wacky claims, or the Food & Drug Administration’s Dietary Guidelines. A good rule of thumb when it comes to nutrition? Avoid taking advice from anybody who’s offering to sell you a product.  And bloggers. ;)

October 21, 2009

Fakes - Greek Lentil Soup



Fakes.  You see, when a man loves a woman...

Let’s just get this out of the way now: Yes, it really is pronounced just the way you were(n’t) hoping: fah-keez.

I’ve adapted this from Peter’s excellent blog on Greek cooking, Kalofagas (formerly at Blogger, now cut free, free!). His spice proportions are excellent, but like always I effectively doubled them by using half the amount of lentils and approximately half the volume of liquid. I also made it daal-like by frying the partial hell outta those spices and veggies before throwing them in there. I’ll admit to being leery of using raw spices and carrots in soups – oh god, the soft but still raw-tasting carrots! – ever since the unpleasant Daal With Mushy But Still Uncooked Vegetables Incident of ’08.

Fakes – Greek Lentil Soup

Ingredients:
1 cup brown lentils, rinsed
2 medium onions, diced
2 large carrots, peeled and diced
1 cup of spinach, packed (optional)

4 bay leaves
¾ cup tomato puree
1 Tbs paprika
2 Tbs oregano
5 cups vegetable stock (if you don’t have some homemade ready, just use water)
1 tsp salt
3 cloves garlic, minced
5 cloves garlic, still in their skin
Extra-virgin olive oil (I use Trader Joe’s)

Directions:
1. Heat a saucepan over medium heat and when warm, pour in a generous amount (2-3 Tbs) of olive oil to coat the bottom of the pan. Once the oil is heated, throw in the onions and cook, stirring occasionally, for several minutes or until they are starting to turn transparent.
2. Add the carrots and minced garlic, stirring well to evenly coat them in olive oil. Cook them for an additional five minutes.
3. Sprinkle in the paprika and stir to distribute it evenly over the veggies. Let the paprika cook for a minute, then stir in the oregano and the tomato puree, letting it cook for another minute. Add the lentils next and give them a good stir to coat them in the oil and spices.
4. Pour in the vegetable stock and add the bay leaves. Bring to a boil, uncovered, over medium-high heat. Turn the temperature down to low, cover, and simmer for approximately 30 minutes, or until the lentils are tender but not fully broken down.
5. While the soup is simmering, roast the remaining 5 garlic cloves in their skins in either a toaster oven or a regular oven until they are softened. Let them cool to the point that you can touch them comfortably, then de-skin and mince them.
6. When the lentils are tender, stir in the spinach (it should wilt quickly), roasted garlic, and salt. Taste and adjust the seasonings as desired.

October 13, 2009

Regional Recipes Scandinavia: Hernerakkaa, Finnish Split Pea Soup



Everything looks classier with a bay leaf jammed in it.

Whenever I make something new for dinner, I play a little linguistic game with my spouse: Describe the Foreign Vegetarian Dish in Non-Threatening Familiar Words! This game is a big hit and is absolutely vital to the success of not only the meal, nay, but my marriage itself. That’s right: my marriage is based on lies about food. Well, and mutual intellectual and sexual attraction…but really, it all comes down to the food lies.

The game went like this when I made Hernerakkaa, a Finnish soup embodying many alarming foreign traits (double consonants, parsnips, etc.), as my first-ever submission to a nifty food blog event started by the intrepid Blazing Hot Wok: Regional Recipes, graciously hosted this month by Joanne at Eats Well With Others

Spouse [suspiciously]: What’re you making?
Me [thinking quickly, talking even faster]: Split pea soup! You like split pea soup. Remember that great split pea soup my parents made for us a couple of years ago?
Spouse [still suspicious]: Didn’t that have ham in it?
Me [avoiding the question entirely]: Look, it has potatoes!
Spouse [pointing at a parsnip bit]: What’s that?
Me: A new kind of potato.

And thus this dish was dubbed, in non-threatening words, Split Pea Soup with at Least Three New Kinds of Potatoes Which You Liked When My Parents Made It, Remember?



That's toasted cheese on the bread, not microwaved French fries.

Hernerakkaa – Finnish Split Pea Soup
Adapted from Sundays at Moosewood, cooked with more of an Indian dal technique because I have a pathological fear of eating non-sauteed cooked carrots. So…mushy…

Ingredients:
1 cup dried yellow split peas, rinsed and drained several times until the water runs clear
5 cups vegetable stock (homemake it, baby!)
1 medium potato, diced
1 large carrot, diced
4 celery stalks, diced
1 large onion, diced
1 turnip, peeled and diced
1 parsnip, peeled and diced
Canola oil

1 ½ tsp salt
1 ½ tsp ground cumin
1 Tbs dried marjoram
1 tsp powdered thyme
1 tsp freshly ground black pepper
1 Tbs ground yellow mustard

½ cup heavy cream (optional)

Directions:
1. Heat the canola oil over medium heat in a broad saucepan, then toss in the onion and celery. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 3 minutes, then toss in the rest of the vegetables. Cook until the vegetables have colored slightly, approximately another 8 minutes.
2. Sprinkle the cumin over the vegetables and stir until it coats them evenly and has begun to give off a light toasted smell, approximately 1 minute.
3. Stir in the rinsed split peas, salt, and vegetable stock. Turn up the heat to medium-high and bring to a boil.
4. Add the marjoram, thyme, and black pepper. Turn the heat down to medium-low and simmer, covered, for approximately an hour. Check every twenty minutes to make sure that the soup has not dried out or scorched. The soup is done when the split peas have broken down into a thick, textured paste (appetizing!).
5. While the soup is cooking, whip the heavy cream until it forms stiff peaks. This took me approximately two minutes using my electric beater set to a medium speed.
6. Turn off the heat on the soup and stir in the ground mustard. Taste and adjust the seasonings.
7. Serve with a dark rye or pumpernickel bread on the side and a dollop of heavy cream on top. Optionally, stick a bay leaf in the back of the bowl ‘cause you think it’s purty.

October 8, 2009

White Whole Wheat Naan


Why bake your bread when you can fry it in butter?

I can’t get over this semi-obscure King Arthur flour: white whole wheat flour! I’ve been subbing it in for all sorts of things: all-purpose flour, more all-purpose flour…and I think my dried-out whole wheat flour, once, because I leave my whole wheat flour out in a canister on the counter* as a warning to all other products that I can and will neglect them with wild abandon.

Anyway, what is this marvel of technology, this wonder of human ingenuity, this tidily-packaged bit of proto-dough delivered to your grocery by the Magical Flour Fairies? It’s hard wheat and thus high in protein, but unlike hardcore whole wheat (HWW) the bran doesn’t have the red pigments that give HWW its stronger flavor. However, it’s still a whole-grain and so it drives that source of daily happiness, personal contentment, and well-being: regularity.

White Whole Wheat Naan
Adapted from Julie's recipe derived from Simply Indian.

Ingredients:
½ cup warm water
2 tsp active dry yeast
1 tsp white sugar
1 large egg
¼ cup vegetable oil, plus extra for cooking
1 ½ tsp salt, divided
½ tsp wheat gluten (optional)
2 ½ cups white whole wheat flour, plus extra for dusting

6 Tbs plain whole yogurt

4 Tbs unsalted butter


In my house, you do as I say.  Butter that naan, boy!

Directions:
1. Dissolve the white sugar in the warm water, and then stir in the yeast. Let it sit for 5 minutes. It should start to foam; if it doesn’t, the yeast is dead. Toss it out with great solemnity, and try a non-yeast flatbread recipe instead**.
2. In a large bowl, stir the wheat gluten and ½ tsp salt into the flour, then stir in the egg and vegetable oil until dough starts to come together. Stir in the yogurt. Knead the dough in the bowl for 2 minutes.
3. Cover the bowl with a damp kitchen towel and place in a warm (~70 °F), still environment. I use the microwave with the door slightly ajar, so that the light is on but the door still holds in its warmth. Let the dough rise for approximately an hour.
4. On a lightly floured surface, roll the dough out into a thick cylinder approximately 8-10” long. Slice it into 6 same-sized cylinders. Roll the cylinders into spheres with your hands, sprinkle a pinch of salt evenly over ech, and then gently press them unto a flat circle with your palm, and roll them flatter with a rolling pin.
5. Melt the butter in a plate with a shallow rim.
6. Heat a skillet over medium heat. When hot, add in just enough vegetable oil to thinly coat the whole skillet.
7. To cook the naan, dunk each piece in the melted butter and let the extra drip off for a moment, then place flat in the hot skillet. After 45 – 60 seconds, flip the naan and let it cook an additional 30 – 45 seconds.
8. Pile the naan together on a plate with a (non-damp!) kitchen towel draped over them, to keep them warm.

These guys keep for a week and a half if you store them in a sealed container in the fridge. They’ll keep okay in a sealed container at room temperature for about two days, but beyond that you’ll start to see some mold.


References:
King Arthur White Whole Wheat


* Wheat flour should be stored in the freezer, taken out for periodic exercise, and never looked full in the face.
** Coming soon: white whole wheat pita!

October 4, 2009

Vegetable Quiche with a Half-Whole-Wheat Crust



Eat cheese and surrender, monkey!

Quiche is - are? - one of the best way to clean out random veggies from your fridge which, one week ago, would've gone "clunk" when you dropped them, but have now graduated to something more like "clusheesh." Do not shy from their wrinkly faces, no matter how much they may remind you of death! They have entered a new and wonderful stage of the life cycle. One that, technically, is known as Smooshiness.

The only solution to this - or at least, the only one I'm going to bring up at the moment*- is to take those whimpering, geriatric vegetables and sauté them in some good ol’ fat with onion. Douse them in more fat, throw in some cheese and a bit of salt, and voile! You have birthed an abomination upon this earth, because you did not read my one-of-a-kind directions!**

One-of-a-Kind Directions: Vegetable Quiche with a Half-Whole Wheat Crust
Makes 2 quiches, 9” in diameter apiece (or 1x13” in diameter).
Crust adapted from Jack Bishop’s marvelous The Complete Italian Vegetarian Cookbook.

Ingredients:
For quiche:
5 large eggs
1 ½ cups milk
1 ½ cups grated cheese (parmesan, extra-sharp cheddar, Dubliner, English Seaside Cheddar, or some combination thereof)
2 Tbs all-purpose flour
½ tsp salt
¼ tsp ground black pepper
¼ tsp cayenne
2-3 cups of vegetables – try some combination of diced bell pepper, quartered mushrooms, diced tomatoes (de-seeded), shredded zucchini, baby spinach, or swiss chard with the stems diced and the leaves chopped
1 medium onion or 3 shallots, diced
1 medium tomato, sliced into circles ¼” thick (optional)
Extra-virgin olive oil

For crust:
1 ½ cup white whole wheat flour (or just all-purpose flour)
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 tsp kosher salt
2/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
4-5 Tbs ice-cold water

Directions:
1. Heat a skillet over medium heat and add in the olive oil. Once warmed, sauté the onion for three minutes, then add the other vegetables. Saute, stirring occasionally, until cooked and most of the liquid has evaporated off. Remove the vegetables from the heat and let them cool on a plate to as close to room temperature as you can get them.
2. Preheat the oven to 350°.
3. To prepare the crust, mix the flours and kosher salt together in a bowl. Pour the olive oil into the dry ingredients in a slow and steady stream, using a fork to mix. Once all of the oil has been incorporated, the mixture will be evenly crumbly (Bishop describes it as “pea-size crumbs”).
4. Slowly add the water a tablespoon at a time, stirring it in with the fork. Knead it briefly in the bowl with your hands to form a large ball.
5. Turn the ball out onto a floured cutting board and cut in half with a knife that’s had the blade lightly oiled. Put each half into a separate 9” pan, and using your fingers, press it out flat so that it forms a crust.
6. In a separate bowl, toss the cheese with the flour, salt, black pepper, and cayenne. Mix in the vegetables and pour in the milk and eggs. Stir carefully until the eggs are broken and everything is evenly mixed.
7. Scoop and pour the vegetable mixture into the quiche crusts. Don’t worry if it’s soupy, runny, and doesn’t reach the top of the crust – it’ll poof up in the oven.
8. (Optional) Carefully place the tomato slices on the top of the crust.
9. Bake for 40 minutes, or until the top is slightly brown and the rest of the quiche is firm.
10. Remove from the oven and let cool for at least 20 minutes. This is important, dammit! The texture changes a great deal, along with the flavor, and the quiche just tastes better if it’s just warm as opposed to straight-outta-the-oven hot. Seriously. If you’re an impatient bastard, cut it into slices and put those out on plates away from the hot oven – they’ll cool faster.
Quiches keep for a week if they’re kept in a sealed container in the fridge.


* In the interests of honesty, another option starts with 'c' and ends with 'ompost.'

** There are, of course, gads upon gigagads of directions online for doing a quiche. All revolve around the pivotal question: to bacon, or not to bacon?
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