Vegetarian Mapo Tofu
Sunday, February 16, 2014
I’ve yet to meet an Asian noodle dish I didn’t like. My favorites lately, particularly on cold days, are those dishes with a lovely gravy-like sauce such as dan dan noodles or especially mapo tofu. Since we have such wonderful locally produced tofu, I thought this might be a good dish to try at home where I could also use local pork or even go vegetarian.
While I’ve made this recipe in the traditional manner, with ground pork and small cubes of tofu, and it was delicious, here I decided to use all tofu and crumble it, adding small, diced delicata squash that had been sitting around. Any winter squash would likely work, but delicata is particularly useful since it peels easily and cooks quickly, remaining slightly firm. The recipe below is adapted from Epicurious. In addition to swapping out the pork for squash, I also make the sauce on its own rather than adding the components to the dish, as I’ve found simmering the sauce separately and incorporating at the end creates sauce that’s nicely thickened without overcooking the squash. This dish comes together remarkably quickly.
1 tablespoon sesame oil
1 tablespoon minced garlic
3 scallions, sliced, with whites and green separated
1 tablespoon minced peeled ginger
1 delicata squash, peeled and diced in ½” cubes
1 pound tofu
1 tablespoon chopped parsley
2 tablespoons bean paste
2 tablespoons soy sauce
1 cup chicken broth
1 tablespoon cornstarch dissolved in 2 tbsp water
Combine bean paste, soy sauce and chicken broth. Heat in small saucepan over medium heat, adding cornstarch dissolved in water. Simmer until sauce thickens slightly. Set aside.
Heat sesame oil over medium heat in a wok or saucepan. Add garlic, the whites of the scallions and ginger and cook for one minute. Add delicata squash and stir fry until squash cooks to desired texture. Add crumbled tofu and sauce. Cook together for one minute or until sauce thickens to desired consistency and add greens of scallions and parsley. Serve over rice or noodles of your choice.
Review, Learn Anew: Improving My Braise
Monday, February 03, 2014
My favorite cookbook series is River Cottage by Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall, et. al., and from that series, my favorite single book is (the imaginatively titled) Meat. The range of recipes - from Asian pork belly to turkey mole - is as impressive as the resulting food. Even better, Fearnley-Whittingstall devotes pages to specific techniques for cooking meat: grilling, slow roasting, braising, etc. Before attempting my chicken and dumplings this year, I reviewed Fearnley-Whittingstall’s comments on braising, gleaning some important lessons. The results were my best by far.
Lesson 1: The Importance of Pork Fat
Whether it is simply fatback or something more flavorful like the PorcSalt smoked bacon I used here, the underpinning of flavor and textural contribution of the fat are essential.
Lesson 2: Pay Attention to the Vegetables
I have always thought of leeks as supplanting onions in recipes. It turns out that this view is rather simplistic. They can, in fact, compliment onions beautifully. A similar thing can be said for celeriac (celery root) and parsnips. Celeriac also makes a lighter and less starchy substitute for potato.
Lesson 3: Searing Meat Separately
Essential to a flavorful braise is soundly caramelized meat. Fearnley-Whittingstall’s suggestion is to sear the meat separately in a lightly oiled pan, add to the braise, then deglaze the pan with wine and then add that to the braise. Brilliant.
Lesson 4: Simmer Does Not Mean Boil
In a lengthy explanation that I won’t reproduce here, Fearnley-Whittingstall explains the importance of a very slow simmer in cooking the meat correctly. The meat cooks long enough to dissolve tough connective tissue without the tenderer pieces becoming. He even quotes Elizabeth David. What’s not to love?
Bubble and Squeak
Thursday, January 30, 2014
I’m sure they don’t eat bubble and squeak like this in Singapore, but in theory they could, and given how awful the weather has been since around Thanksgiving, pretending to be in Singapore is highly appealing at the moment.
The “Singaporean” element in this version of the traditional British use for leftover vegetables is a curry-esque spice blend, which brightens up the potatoes and works nicely with the poached egg that makes this a meal instead of a side dish. It could be replaced with the regular curry powder of your choice. Although I prefer this with brussels sprouts, you can use cabbage or any other leafy green you can find in the markets for the next however many months this winter’s going to last.
Singaporean Bubble and Squeak with Poached Eggs
(Adapted from Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall, River Cottage Veg, 2011)
2-3 potatoes, peeled and cut into large chunks
4 tablespoons olive oil
1 pint brussels sprouts, trimmed and quartered
2 tablespoons vegetable stock
1 medium onion, halved and thinly sliced
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 teaspoons Penzeys Singapore Seasoning, or 1 teaspoon curry powder
2 large eggs
Salt and pepper to taste
Boil the potatoes in salted water until tender, then drain and set aside while preparing the brussels sprouts.
Heat two tablespoons of oil in a nonstick pan over medium heat and add the sprouts, cut-side down, leaving them untouched long enough to brown nicely. Add the stock and cover the pan for a few more minutes until the liquid has been absorbed and the sprouts are cooked but not mushy. Remove from the pan.
Add the remaining oil to the pan and cook the onions until soft and golden but not browning, then add the garlic and Singapore seasoning and cook two more minutes. Tumble in the potatoes and lightly break up and mash them with the spatula to encourage more browning as you periodically stir the vegetables. When the potatoes are brown and crispy enough for you, add the brussels sprouts and cook a few more minutes while poaching the eggs.
Bring a few inches of water and a splash of white vinegar to a strong simmer in a small sauce pan. Crack each egg into a teacup for easier transfer, and using a slotted spoon, create a quick whirlpool before slipping the eggs from their cups into the water. Simmer gently for 3 minutes, lift them quickly out with the slotted spoon, and gently turn them onto a plate lined with paper towels to finish draining them. Snip away any stray wisps of egg white to make them prettier if you like, though I don’t bother.
Divide the bubble and squeak between two shallow bowls, and top each mound with a poached egg. Gently break open the membrane over the yolks just enough to let you salt and pepper to taste, and serve immediately.
Monday, January 20, 2014
I find quince to be utterly perplexing. Superficially, they are quite unappealing: they look like gnarled fuzzy pears and are completely inedible raw. Yet, they have a heady aroma uncooked and scented my fridge for weeks. Moreover, once cooked, they can undergo a miraculous transformation into a brightly colored godsend called membrillo (quince paste). How does this happen?
Despite these contradictions, which might ward off a more reasonable person, I purchase them at least once a year before the Headhouse Market closes up, and, hopefully, find something to make before its too late. Last year, it was an English-style christmas pudding from Nigel Slater. This year, I decided to delve into one of my Christmas presents: Yottam Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi’s Jerusalem.
At first glance, one would not think that a recipe from Jerusalem would have a place on a blog about local food. However, most items were easily sourced at the local level: Tom Culton’s quince purchased from the Headhouse Market; local lamb purchased from Green Aisle Grocery; and the other vegetables were purchased through Winter Harvest. There were a few imported ingredients here, but they were dry goods or specialty items simply unavailable locally. We use items like these as an opportunity to support small growers elsewhere just as we support small growers here.
And so, we were easily able to enjoy a small piece of warm Jerusalem in cold Philadelphia.
New Year’s Brunch 2014
Sunday, January 12, 2014
I would like to pretend that the healthy tilt of our New Year’s Brunch represents an earnest start to the new year, a healthier beginning to a healthier year. More likely, it is a too-little-too-late compensation for the indulgences of the night before, when we had too much wine and too many rich foods. The previous night, we indulged in Supper’s special New Year’s Eve menu. It was fantastic (as always), but as the name implies, a special meal for a special occasion. One can’t eat like that everyday.
So here we have buckwheat crepes, omelettes, yogurt, and home-cured salmon as a counterweight to the gluttony that closed 2013. The buckwheat flour was locally grown and milled and purchased from the Fair Food Farmstand. The eggs, yogurt, and scallions are courtesy of Winter Harvest. Though the salmon was not local, it was sustainably raised, and the good people of Ippolito’s were able to recommend the best particular fillet for curing.
Salt-curing fish is surprisingly easy - as long as you have some suitably sized containers and fridge space. I follow Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall’s method from Fish. Though the original recipe is for trout, as he notes, it can be applied to most any oily fish. In the past, I would flavor it as Hugh does, with fresh dill. However, that didn’t seem the right flavor for January 1st, so I mixed rye berries into the curing mix instead. Unfortunately, the rye flavor was barely discernible. I suppose that I need to treat the rye berries before adding them to the curing mix (salt and sugar) - perhaps grinding them in a mortar and pestle or soaking them. Even without the rye flavor, the fish was well worth it and gave me the illusion of having made up for my decadent New Year’s Eve meal. And that’s all the excuse I need.
Warm Food for Cold Days
Sunday, December 29, 2013
The intervening days between Christmas and New Years’ can be long on time, short on daylight, and (usually) low in temperature. All of this, of course, means that we tend to spend mornings with newspapers, Christmas music, cappuccino, and things warm from the oven. Given the prevalence of heavy savory dishes and even heavier desserts during the holiday season, we try to make our morning pastry as healthy as possible. To do that, we rely heavily on the Babycakes cookbooks (here and here). Erin McKenna’s recipes are gluten free, eschew refined sugar, and frequently use spelt flour. In short, Erin lets us feel like we have having our cake and eating it, too.
Adapted from this scone recipe.
Apple Maple Walnut Scones
2 cups whole spelt flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/3 cup coconut oil
1/3 cup maple syrup
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
1 cup diced apple
1/2 cup chopped walnuts
1. Preheat the oven to 375 and line a baking sheet with parchment paper. In a large mixing bowl, combine the flour, baking powder, salt, and walnuts. Stir in the syrup and oil. Add enough hot water to form a batter. Next, fold in the apples.
2. Scoop 1/4 cup mounds of batter onto the lined baking sheet. Bake on the center rack for 10 minutes, rotate, and then bake for another 10 minutes. Let them cool - just not, heaven forbid, completely.
Note: Working with coconut oil can be tricky, as it solidifies at room temperature. I heat the jar in extremely hot water as I preheat the oven and gather the other ingredients. This ensures I have enough liquid oil when I need to add it to the batter. I also make sure that the hot water I add to the batter is quite hot and work as quickly as I can.
Mixed Mushroom Tart for the Holidays
Sunday, December 22, 2013
This tart of mixed, flavorful local mushrooms was the vegetarian main course at Thanksgiving this year, although you could really make it year-round. It would be lovely as a make-ahead summer brunch item, for example.
I think the variety of textures that this combination of mushrooms offers is ideal, but it would also be good with plain cremini mushrooms, if that’s all you have. If you use portobellos, just be sure to remove the dark gills first, as they tend to turn everything unpleasantly black.
(Adapted from Michael Ruhlman, Ratio, 2009)
9 ounces unbleached all-purpose flour
1 1/2 sticks cold unsalted butter, in small pieces
1/4 teaspoon sea salt
2-3 ounces ice water
4 tablespoons olive oil
2 yellow onions, thinly sliced
8 ounces mushrooms, preferably a combination of maitake, shiitake and oyster, cleaned and roughly torn
1 cup half and half
2 large eggs
1/2 teaspoon salt
Several grinds each of fresh nutmeg and black pepper
1/4 cup grated Gruyere cheese
Several sprigs of fresh thyme
Combine the flour and salt in a mixing bowl, and work in the butter with a pastry blender or your fingers until no pieces are larger than a pea. Gently mix in the water a bit at a time, just until the dough holds together. Shape the dough into a disk, wrap tightly in plastic wrap or a zip-top bag, and refrigerate an hour or more.
Preheat the oven to 325 F. Roll out the dough on a lightly floured surface to fit a 9-inch tart pan, and press into the pan, cutting away any excess. Cover the surface with a layer of foil or parchment paper, and fill with rice or pie weights to prevent buckling. Bake for 20 minutes, then remove the weights and bake 15-20 more minutes, until golden brown.
In a skillet, heat two tablespoons of the oil over medium heat and cook down the onions until dark gold. Spread them evenly in the bottom of the baked tart shell. Raise the heat under the pan slightly, add the remaining oil, and toss in the mushrooms, sautéing until any liquid has evaporated and the surfaces are gold and crisp in spots. Top the onion layer with enough mushrooms to mostly fill the tart shell, setting aside any extra for another use.
In a large liquid measuring cup, whisk together the half and half, eggs, salt, nutmeg and pepper, and gently pour into the tart. Sprinkle the top with the cheese and the thyme leaves stripped off the stems.Set the tart pan onto a rimmed cookie sheet to catch any drips, and bake at 325 F until the custard has just set (a little bit of jiggle in the very middle is fine) and the top has browned nicely, around 30 minutes. Cool at least to warm room temperature before serving.
Winter Harvest Comes Through (Again)
Saturday, December 14, 2013
In the early years of our eating local, when we wanted an antidote to rich, heavy holiday meals and even the local greens were dwindling, we’d have little choice but to buy a giant pack of French green beans from Whole Foods and call it dinner. No more.
Winter Harvest is full of opportunities to make a light, refreshing meal that even tastes a bit like summer. Shore Catch is one of those “never thought I’d see it” items to appear on the Winter Harvest product list - locally and sustainably caught seafood. It was hard to mess up the beautiful piece of sushi grade Ahi tuna that came in our order this week, but we took no chances and made a simple tartare - hardly a recipe with one pound tuna, three tablespoons each of olive oil and lemon juice and salt and pepper to taste. We added scallions and parsley, also from our order, and ate it with a potato pancake made with Savoie Organic Farm’s wonderful Kennebecs.
A Holiday Fruit Cake (not Fruitcake)
Saturday, November 30, 2013
As should be pretty clear by now, quinces are one of my favorite fall/winter fruits, and since they’re sadly a bit of a luxury to find, I generally mix them with apples to stretch them further, and because they get along so well together, as in this fragrant and holiday-appropriate cake. If you don’t care for or can’t find quinces, you can make the cake with just apples and apple butter, as the original recipe did, and it will also be great.
If you don’t make your own quince jam, you can often find it in Mediterranean or Middle Eastern markets. More likely, you’ll instead be able to find the dried and pressed Spanish version, dulce de membrillo, at your local cheese shop, which will work just fine once loosened back up with a bit of extra liquid.
Apple-Quince Bundt Cake
(Adapted from Dorie Greenspan, Baking: From My Home to Yours, 2006)
1 large quince, or 1/2 cup golden raisins
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon salt
10 tablespoons unsalted butter, slightly softened
1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
2 large eggs
1 cup quince jam, or quince paste gently heated with enough water to loosen to a jam-like consistency
2 tart-sweet apples, peeled, cored and grated
1 cup hazelnuts, toasted, skinned and roughly chopped
1/3 cup powdered sugar
2-3 tablespoons apple cider or milk
If using the quince, peel and core it, then chop it into four or so large pieces. Poach the quince in just enough water to cover until it has changed color (anywhere from buttery-yellow to salmon, depending on the variety) and is tender when pierced with a sharp knife. Drain off the liquid, chop the quince into small dice, and set aside.
Preheat the oven to 350F, and butter and flour a large (12-cup) bundt pan.
Whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger and salt.
Place the butter and sugar into the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, and cream together until smooth and thick. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well between additions, then beat in the quince jam at lower speed. Mix in the grated apple, followed by the dry ingredients, mixing only until incorporated. Fold in the diced quince or raisins and the hazelnuts.
Spoon the batter into the prepared pan and smooth the top. Bake for 50-60 minutes, until the top is golden and springy, and a cake tester inserted near the center comes out clean. Cool on a rack for 5 minutes, then unmold the cake and cool completely.
To glaze the cake, mix just enough cider or milk into the powdered sugar to make a thick but free-flowing icing. Drizzle the icing evenly over the cake, letting it run down the sides. Let the icing firm up before slicing the cake.
Leftovers keep well in an airtight container for 2-3 days, although it’s best to glaze it the same day you serve it.
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
Did you know that Seckel pears are native to Philadelphia? The story is either that they’re the only native American pear, or that farmers in this area bred them from European varieties, but either way they’re from Philly.
Even without the local connection, these little guys are one of my favorite varieties, since apart from being cute, they’re both firm and flavorful. That makes them ideal for poaching, although why stop there? Baked on top of a buttery pastry base and a rich almond cream, Seckel pears make a wonderful cookie or a party-ready tart, and their poaching syrup is a perfect contribution to fall-themed cocktails.
Seckel Pear Frangipane Bars
(Adapted from French Pear Tart in Dorie Greenspan, Baking: From My Home to Yours, 2006)
Serves 18-24 as a cookie, 12 as a dessert
For the poached pears:
2 lbs Seckel pears (around a dozen or so)
1 cup granulated sugar
3 cups water
3 strips lemon rind
1 vanilla bean, split
1/2 teaspoon black peppercorns
Pinch of salt
For the pastry base:
2 1/4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
3/4 cup confectioner’s sugar
3/8 teaspoon salt
14 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into 1-inch pieces
2 large egg yolks
For the almond cream:
9 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 cup granulated sugar
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons ground blanched almonds
1 tablespoon unbleached all-purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoon cornstarch
1 large egg plus 1 yolk
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1/8 teaspoon almond extract
Combine the sugar and water in a medium saucepan and bring to a boil over medium heat , then lower to a simmer and cook for 5 minutes. In the meantime, peel, halve and core the pears. Add the pears to the pot, along with the lemon, vanilla, peppercorns and salt. Simmer until the pears are tender, about 15 minutes. Refrigerate the pears in their syrup until ready to bake.
In a food processor, combine the flour, sugar and salt for the base and pulse several times to combine. Scatter the butter pieces over the top, and pulse again until the largest pieces are the size of peas. Beat the yolks briefly with a teaspoon or so of water to lighten them, then add to the processor through the feed tube with the motor running. Stop as soon as the egg is incorporated and small clumps have started to form.
Line a quarter sheet pan with enough parchment to overhang the sides by a couple of inches, dump the pastry onto the lined sheet, and gently press it into the bottom and up the sides, just until it holds together. Cover the lined sheet with plastic wrap and freeze for at least 30 minutes.
Preheat the oven to 375F and butter one side of a piece of foil large enough to cover the surface of the dough. Remove the plastic wrap and replace it with the foil. Bake in the center of the oven for 25 minutes, until the pastry has set but is not browned. Remove the foil and cool completely.
Combine the butter and sugar in a food processor and run until a smooth paste forms. Add the almonds and process again until blended, then repeat with the flour and cornstarch. Add the egg and yolk and process just until incorporated, then add the vanilla and almond extracts and pulse briefly again. Spread the almond cream evenly over the chilled pastry base.
Preheat oven to 350F.
Remove the pear halves from the syrup and gently pat dry with paper towels to prevent excess syrup from making the filling soggy. Slice a pear half thinly, keeping the slices together, then lift the sliced half with a spatula and carefully place onto the almond cream in the bottom left corner of the pan, pressing down just enough to fan out the slices a bit. Repeat the process with enough pears to mostly cover the cream in evenly spaced rows (around 18 pear halves total).
Bake 50-60 minutes, until the cream has set around the pears and turned deep golden brown. Cool to at least room temperature before lifting the entire sheet out of its pan by its parchment. Slice into cookie-sized bars or tart-sized squares according to your preference. Serve the same day if possible, although they keep well in the refrigerator for a day or so.
August Frozen Treats Challenge: Blackberry-Honey Ice Cream
Monday, August 05, 2013
Apart from potted herbs, there are exactly two crops growing in my garden this year: green zebra tomatoes, because I can’t get enough of them, and a blackberry bush I planted last summer because it was the lowest-effort fruit I could think of. I just let the bush establish itself last year, not expecting any berries, and as a result it’s now sturdy and has set enough blossoms that I think we’ll get at few small harvests of berries by the time fall rolls around.
While I knew I wouldn’t be able to rely on homegrown berries for this year’s frozen treat challenge, I still wanted to do something with blackberries, and to get my ice cream maker out of its cupboard. After some further brainstorming, I came up with this bright magenta, intensely berry-flavored ice cream, which also incorporates locally-produced honey, eggs, and dairy products. There were even just enough ripe berries on my bush to serve as a garnish!
One bit of advice: because the honey is definitely present after the initial burst of blackberry, the best choice for this recipe is a mild to barely medium honey—ideally a berry honey, but a light wildflower or blossom would be good too. Don’t use a dark one like buckwheat or one with a lot of herby notes, or the finish of the ice cream will be distractingly medicinal.
Blackberry-Honey Ice Cream
Makes 1 1/2 quarts
3 pints blackberries
1/2 cup plus 1/4 cup granulated sugar
1 1/3 cups heavy cream
1 1/4 cups whole milk
1 vanilla bean, split
1/3 cup honey
6 large egg yolks
Place the blackberries, 1/2 cup of sugar and a pinch of salt in a non-reactive pan and mash gently with a potato masher to start releasing the juices. Let sit undisturbed for 45 minutes.
Fill a large bowl with ice water and suspend a slightly smaller bowl lined with a fine mesh strainer within it. Combine the cream, milk, vanilla bean, honey, and another good pinch of salt in a saucepan and heat over medium-low heat until the milk steams, but don’t bring it to a boil. Meanwhile, whisk the egg yolks with the remaining 1/4 cup sugar until the yolks lighten just slightly and the sugar dissolves, then whisk in half the hot milk. Stir the egg mixture to the milk in the pan and cook over medium heat, stirring constantly with a heat-safe spatula, until the mixture thickens slightly. (Again, be careful not to bring to a boil or the eggs will curdle.) As soon as the custard thickens, pour it through the strainer into the bowl over the ice bath, discarding any egg solids that stick to the strainer but hanging on to the vanilla bean. Scrape the seeds from the vanilla pod with a sharp knife and mix into the custard. Let the custard come to room temperature, stirring occasionally, while preparing the berries.
Bring the berries to a simmer over medium-high heat and cook for 3 minutes, mashing further as needed to completely break them up. Run the berries through a strainer, scraping the pulp with a spoon until all the fruit and juice has passed through. Discard the seeds and hulls.
Once both the custard and the berry mixture have cooled down, cover them both and chill them in the coolest part of the refrigerator for at least 4 hours, and up to 24.
When ready to freeze the ice cream, stir the custard and berry mixture together, and pour into your ice cream maker. Churn until a soft-serve consistency is reached, then transfer to tightly covered containers, pressing plastic wrap against the surface of the ice cream if there’s more than nominal headspace between the ice cream and the container lid. Let the ice cream firm up and ripen in the freezer for at least two hours before serving.
Eating Local in Italy
Sunday, August 04, 2013
Last week, we made a return visit - and we hope the first of many return visits - to Tenuta di Spannocchia in central Tuscany. A former estate farmed under the mezzadria system, guests can stay at the main house (the castello) or former farmhouses scattered throughout the property. The estate produces organic wine (red, white, and rose), olive oil, and cured pork products from the heritage breed Cinta Senese. The estate also has an extensive garden that produces almost all of the food for the main house and its guests.
The bucolic setting is perfect for hiking, reading, etc., but it’s absolutely inspiring when it comes to cooking. When we open the door to our farmhouse to find a loaf of tuscan bread, a bottle of vino tavolo rosso, and large crate of produce (onions, garlic, potatoes, zucchini, string beans, tomatoes), it’s difficult to refrain from cooking right then - even if we did just come from a multi-course feast at the main house.
Of course, this was Italy, so we gravitated to pasta dishes that took advantage of the produce, the cured meat, or both. This carbonara did just that.
Spannocchia cures a variety of meat products - coppa, salame toscana, prosciutto, lardo, and pancetta. Using farro pasta purchased at the the Consorizio Agrario (see below), I made this carbonara with the pancetta and the zucchini flowers that the gardeners had kindly left attached to the fruit. First, I rendered the fat from the pancetta over low heat. Then, I added the onions and gently sauteed them. (I have found both a long rendering and gentle saute of the onions over low heat to be crucial to good carbonara.) When the pasta was cooked, I added it to the pan with eggs and grated cheese (an organic pecorino from a nearby farm) and tossed in the zucchini flowers that I had cut in a chiffonade.
Before Spannocchia, we spent several days in Siena. In anticipation for all of the cooking, we did our grocery shopping at the Consorzio Agrario. Akin to a boutique grocery store, it sells many prepared foods (and, apparently, excellent pizza) that showcase the farmers and producers from around Siena. We were lucky to find locally-made ragu made with the local boars, or cinghiale. For pasta, we made the traditional pici by hand, using only flour (both semolina and white “00”), water, and a little oil. The thick, chewy pici demands the big, bold flavors of something like boar ragu, and I would hesitate to pair it with anything delicate.
Many traditional Italian recipes are deliberately unspecific when it comes to quantities for ingredients; the preferred phrase is quanto basta, just enough. In this spirit, and because the farmhouse was totally lacking in measuring cups or spoons, the pici was simply two coffee cups of flour (one literal cup of each type) and just enough water to make it cohere.
Of course, between the salame toscana, risorgimento, and bistecca fiorentina, we needed a break from all of the meat at some point. So, a light dinner of several garden-grown vegetables was perfect.
My only regret here was that I didn’t think to roast the beets in the cooling ashes of the wood-fired pizza oven the night before.
The last time we were here, I was amazed at how easy the “00” flour was to work with. Both my gnocchi and hand-rolled pasta was so easy to work with. As with the pici, I poured out the flour on the table, added two eggs and one egg yolk, and incorporated just enough flour to make a dough. Not having my Kitchen Aid attachment from home, I stretched and rolled the dough by hand, stopping when the large disk was transparent enough to see the grain of the marble table beneath. This was paired with dried porcini mushrooms I picked up on a day trip to Volterra.
One of the highlights of a stay at Spannocchia is the salumi tasting class. It occurred to me at that moment that my food was never going to be more local than this - eating pork raised several hundred yards away, cured in a room several hundred feet away, washing it down with wine grown and vinted several hundred yards away.
We are very fortunate that we have quality wine, salumi, and flour here. It won’t taste like Spannochia, but that is exactly the point.
Posted by Kevin on 08/04 at 09:49 PM
Keeping Your Cool
Thursday, July 11, 2013
Gazpacho is one of my main strategies for getting through July and August. Preparing a big batch on Sunday not only makes wonderful use out of all the seasonal produce pouring into the markets, but also gives you a ready-made, colorful and refreshing dinner to look forward to when you’re slogging home through the sweltering humidity on Monday evening. It’s also perfect as a festive first course for barbecues and brunches all the way through Labor Day.
While tomato-based red gazpacho is fantastic, especially when made with a mix of heirloom varieties, white gazpacho is an equally traditional way to highlight cucumbers and the fresh garlic now making its first appearance. The base of almonds and bread creates a soup that’s creamy and silky without being overly rich or heavy. While the straining step is a bit of extra work, the soup still comes together in minutes (not counting the half hour of chilling in the fridge), and doesn’t raise the temperature of your kitchen by a single degree.
(Adapted from Jose Andres, Tapas: A Taste of Spain in America)
8 ounces blanched, slivered almonds
1-2 cloves fresh garlic
2 ounces stale French- or Italian-style bread (not whole grain)
1 medium cucumber, peeled and roughly chopped
2 1/2 cups filtered or mineral water
2 tablespoons sherry vinegar
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
Place the almonds and garlic in a large bowl or liquid measuring cup and cover with boiling water. Let sit for a few minutes, drain, and repeat with more boiling water. Drain and place in the carafe of a blender.
While the almonds are soaking for the second time, moisten the bread in cold water just long enough to soften. Squeeze dry and add to the blender, along with the remaining ingredients. Blend until smooth.
Pour the gazpacho through a double layer of cheesecloth in a strainer set over a large bowl. Once most of the liquid has passed through the cheesecloth, gather up the ends of the cloth to completely enclose the solids, twist the top of the gathered ends tightly, and squeeze to extract the last of the soup. Discard the solids.
Pour the gazpacho into a pitcher, cover tightly, and chill at least 30 minutes. It is normal for the gazpacho to separate as it sits; just give it a quick whisk before serving.
A Local Tofu Dish
Sunday, July 07, 2013
If you try to cook locally, cooking with tofu presents two challenges. The first is finding local tofu; the second is how to make it flavorful. Thankfully, Allentown’s Fresh Tofu solves the first challenge for me. The second, however, is all mine to tackle.
Like pasta, tofu is a thrillingly blank canvas and will take to innumerable uses and flavors. In fact, I think it is better than meat in certain dishes, as it never descends to the rough, dry texture of overcooked meat. (Anyone who has eaten The Royal Tavern‘s vegan sloppy joe will know exactly what I mean.) However, such a blank canvas can also be a bit exhausting, particularly when you are not feeling creative.
This recipe from The Guardian intrigued both for its construction (a stuffed tofu) and for its batter of ginger beer. After all, when a ginger beer is only half empty, you simply have to make yourself a dark and stormy, don’t you?
Saturday, June 29, 2013
For some reason, I always associate crepes with colder weather, but the truth is that they’re accommodating all year round, as demonstrated by these vaguely Provencal-style ones filled with zucchini and mushrooms, and topped with a bright, uncooked tomato sauce. As the summer moves along, you could augment the filling with eggplant, fresh peas, pattypan squashes, etc., and you can make use of the rainbow of heirloom tomatoes that will start showing up in a couple of weeks.
These make a very satisfying dinner as-is, or if you want to serve these for brunch, you could quickly scramble a few eggs and tuck them into the crepes before the vegetable filling.
Zucchini-Mushroom Buckwheat Crepes with Raw Tomato Sauce
(Crepes adapted from Deborah Madison & Edward Espe Brown, The Greens Cookbook, 1987)
1 cup water
1 cup milk
3 tablespoons melted butter
2/3 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup buckwheat flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
2-3 tablespoons neutral-flavored oil for cooking
2 ripe tomatoes
1 small clove garlic
1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
Salt to taste
3 small zucchini, grated
8 ounces cremini mushrooms, sliced
4 tablespoons olive oil for cooking
2 small cloves garlic
Salt and pepper to taste
Place all the ingredients for the crepe batter except the oil in a tall measuring cup and blend with an immersion blender until smooth. (Alternately, you can do this in a regular blender.) Cover and refrigerate for at least an hour.
To prepare the sauce, halve the tomatoes and grate them, cut side down, on the large side of a box grater set over a bowl. Discard the skin you’re left with when the flesh has all been grated. Finely mince the garlic (I just use a microplane grater) and add it to the tomatoes, along with the olive oil and salt to taste. Let sit at room temperature while making the filling and crepes.
Heat 2 tablespoons of the olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat and add the garlic, sautéing briefly before adding the zucchini. Cook, stirring frequently, until the zucchini is softened and the liquid has cooked off, then remove from the pan. Increase the heat to medium-high, and add the rest of the olive oil and the mushrooms, cooking until the edges have browned. Turn off the heat, return the zucchini to the pan, and season to taste.
Heat a teaspoon of oil in a small nonstick pan or crepe pan over medium heat. Give the batter a quick whisk before ladling about 1/4 cup of batter into the heated pan and swirling the pan quickly to evenly spread the batter. Cook until the crepe has set and is beginning to crisp at the edges, then flip and cook the other side briefly. Remove the crepe to a plate and repeat the process with the remaining batter, adding more oil every three or so crepes, or whenever they show signs of sticking. Adjust the temperature as necessary to prevent excessive browning. If the batter is too thick to swirl easily in the pan, whisk in a little more water to thin back to the consistency of heavy cream.
To serve, fill the bottom half of each crepe with a few spoonfuls of filling, flip over the other half of the crepe, and fold in half to get quarters. Place two or three filled crepes on a plate per person, and top with a generous spoonful of the sauce.
Leftover unfilled crepes, filling and sauce will all keep well for at least a day in the refrigerator, although both the crepes and the sauce are best freshly-made.