Scrambled eggs with cream, pan fried potatoes, and lime-cumin black beans.
Showing posts with label Vegetarian. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vegetarian. Show all posts
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Butternut Squash Soup and Veggie Fritters
In an effort to pursue the "mostly plants?" end of things, I present to you a vegetarian meal to rival the meatiest of meats: butternut squash soup with crispy vegetable fritters! And to make it all happen, out came the Cuisine-art. Which was probably really, really grateful to be used. It's like the Velveteen Rabbit of food processors, sitting alone and sad up in my highest cabinet.
After dicing a few carrots and zucchinis in the processor, I tossed them in a simple batter of flour, eggs, milk, and beer.
Then fried them. In a lot of oil. Who says plants have to be healthy?
Meanwhile, I diced and simmered a whole butternut squash (about 2 pounds) with one diced onion and six cups chicken stock. (To make it fully vegetarian, you could easily trade out for vegetable stock.) When the squash was soft, I strained it out of the stock, quickly rinsed the food processor, and tossed it in to puree.
Added it back into the stock, seasoned with salt and fresh-grated nutmeg, and it came out the perfect sweet but savory autumn treat.
(Soup recipe here.)
After dicing a few carrots and zucchinis in the processor, I tossed them in a simple batter of flour, eggs, milk, and beer.
Then fried them. In a lot of oil. Who says plants have to be healthy?
Meanwhile, I diced and simmered a whole butternut squash (about 2 pounds) with one diced onion and six cups chicken stock. (To make it fully vegetarian, you could easily trade out for vegetable stock.) When the squash was soft, I strained it out of the stock, quickly rinsed the food processor, and tossed it in to puree.
Added it back into the stock, seasoned with salt and fresh-grated nutmeg, and it came out the perfect sweet but savory autumn treat.
(Soup recipe here.)
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Ricotta Gnucky**
Joe and Lauren come over most weeks to watch Boardwalk Empire. (Is anyone else out there watching this show? Do you feel that, more than other HBO shows, it is needlessly gratuitous? What's with all the bouncing breasts? And blood spattering everywhere? Also: why isn't Omar slash Chalky in EVERY SCENE?)
Anyways, Joe and Lauren are new parents, and they bring their baby, Gwen, who is Bean's favorite person in the world. Including me and Matt. But I can't take much offense, because to be fair, Gwen is way, way cuter than either of us.
In any case, when they came this weekend I made this New York Times recipe for ricotta gnocchi. The article touts it as "light" but be forewarned: it pretty much consists entirely of cheese, flour, and butter.
Which is probably why I liked it so much.
When you've cooked and tossed them all in the butter-sage mixture, I'd recommend squirting a slice of lemon in to add a little citrus lightness. I didn't do this the first night, but the next day eating leftovers, it made a huge difference to balance out the heaviness of the cheese and butter.
Aaaaand they were phenomenal. A special occasion treat, for sure, to those of us STILL working on the last ten pounds. But phenomenal:
We served them with jalapeño bratwurst (from Greg's farm last summer) and some juicy honeycrisp apple slices, figuring that you really can't go wrong with that pork/sage/apple combination.
PHENOMENAL.
** Credit goes to Lauren for the awesome titular pun.
Anyways, Joe and Lauren are new parents, and they bring their baby, Gwen, who is Bean's favorite person in the world. Including me and Matt. But I can't take much offense, because to be fair, Gwen is way, way cuter than either of us.
In any case, when they came this weekend I made this New York Times recipe for ricotta gnocchi. The article touts it as "light" but be forewarned: it pretty much consists entirely of cheese, flour, and butter.
Which is probably why I liked it so much.
You start by mixing a container of whole milk ricotta with flour, salt, pepper, two eggs, and a cup of freshly grated parmesano reggiano. Then you drop rounded spoonfuls into a pot of boiling water six at a time, fishing them out after about a minute, when they rise to float on the surface of the water.
And then, you throw them in the "sauce" which you have made in a saucepan by frying sage leaves in butter. And you let them get all warm and golden and buttery and sagey.
When you've cooked and tossed them all in the butter-sage mixture, I'd recommend squirting a slice of lemon in to add a little citrus lightness. I didn't do this the first night, but the next day eating leftovers, it made a huge difference to balance out the heaviness of the cheese and butter.
Aaaaand they were phenomenal. A special occasion treat, for sure, to those of us STILL working on the last ten pounds. But phenomenal:
We served them with jalapeño bratwurst (from Greg's farm last summer) and some juicy honeycrisp apple slices, figuring that you really can't go wrong with that pork/sage/apple combination.
PHENOMENAL.
** Credit goes to Lauren for the awesome titular pun.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Project: Freezing Burritos
You may have noticed that posting is down on this blog, and if I had to blame anything, it would be how HOLY BUCKETS INCREDIBLY BUSY 3L year has turned out to be. I've been eating right on a day to day basis, but it's been mostly repeat recipes, peanut butter sandwiches, or black beans and cheese. There hasn't been anything particularly photo-worthy.
So last weekend, in an effort to combine interesting cooking with time efficiency, I took an old recommendation from Lauren and spent a couple hours putting together burritos to freeze and eat throughout the week.
I started with a simple tortilla recipe, combining white and whole wheat flour with a little canola oil and water, rolling out the dough and cooking them one by one.
Once the tortillas were cooked, I chopped and fried an onion and some garlic, then mixed in a can of black beans and a can of refried beans, and seasoned with salt, cayenne, chili, garlic powder, and cumin until it was spicy and flavorful. A couple ounces of shredded sharp cheddar added tang and richness.
I ladled a half cup of the bean mix into the center of each tortilla, folding the top and bottom in and rolling to close them. Then I wrapped each in foil and threw them in the freezer, to pull out and microwave throughout the week.
These have been such a lifesaver the past week: the tortilla is rich and thick, the inside spicy, tangy, and rich ... and they heat up in just three minutes. Thanks for the idea, Lauren!
(Recipe here)
So last weekend, in an effort to combine interesting cooking with time efficiency, I took an old recommendation from Lauren and spent a couple hours putting together burritos to freeze and eat throughout the week.
I started with a simple tortilla recipe, combining white and whole wheat flour with a little canola oil and water, rolling out the dough and cooking them one by one.
Once the tortillas were cooked, I chopped and fried an onion and some garlic, then mixed in a can of black beans and a can of refried beans, and seasoned with salt, cayenne, chili, garlic powder, and cumin until it was spicy and flavorful. A couple ounces of shredded sharp cheddar added tang and richness.
I ladled a half cup of the bean mix into the center of each tortilla, folding the top and bottom in and rolling to close them. Then I wrapped each in foil and threw them in the freezer, to pull out and microwave throughout the week.
These have been such a lifesaver the past week: the tortilla is rich and thick, the inside spicy, tangy, and rich ... and they heat up in just three minutes. Thanks for the idea, Lauren!
(Recipe here)
Monday, August 16, 2010
Dipping Foods
Approximately one month ago today (I know, I know), Matt and Mom and Mara and I made French dip sandwiches on toasted baguettes with oven-melted provolone:
The meat was left over from a beef brisket we'd had the night before, and was salty and garlicky, tearing off in juicy shreds; in true French dip fashion, we sopped up the jus, letting it soak into the bread until the crisp from the oven became this dense, melt in your mouth experience.
We paired it with not one, not two, but three styles of zucchini: battered and fried blossoms, battered and fried slices, and a small handful of oven grilled for those watching their waistlines.
The zucchini blossoms had come in Mom's CSA bag, inspiring the fry-fest; the tender petals and stems are a perfect match to the crispy batter shell. I threw together the batter: an egg, milk, salt, and enough flour to get the desired sticky consistency.
We dipped the blossoms and slices in the batter, then dipped them again into a pan of hot canola oil for a few minutes, turning occasionally until they became a dark golden.
The meat was left over from a beef brisket we'd had the night before, and was salty and garlicky, tearing off in juicy shreds; in true French dip fashion, we sopped up the jus, letting it soak into the bread until the crisp from the oven became this dense, melt in your mouth experience.
We paired it with not one, not two, but three styles of zucchini: battered and fried blossoms, battered and fried slices, and a small handful of oven grilled for those watching their waistlines.
The zucchini blossoms had come in Mom's CSA bag, inspiring the fry-fest; the tender petals and stems are a perfect match to the crispy batter shell. I threw together the batter: an egg, milk, salt, and enough flour to get the desired sticky consistency.
We dipped the blossoms and slices in the batter, then dipped them again into a pan of hot canola oil for a few minutes, turning occasionally until they became a dark golden.
We pulled them out and patted dry with a paper towel, then served them with a simple bruschetta Mara had created: two tomatoes, a clove of garlic, a few sprigs of garden-fresh basil, a dash of olive oil and salt and pepper to taste.
She was very proud.
She had every right to be; it was delicious.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Good Brown Bread
A quick, no-rise loaf of hearty brown bread, from 1990 Gourmet Magazine recipe:
I like yeastless breads, because I lack the patience and foresight required for baking risen bread. I feel like I always want fresh-baked bread at about 4:37 in the afternoon, when it's absolutely too late to start something that needs kneading and hours to rise. And if I happen to think of my craving the next morning, when there WOULD be time for all that, I simply can't be bothered.
And then I go to the bakery instead and walk out with about four different breads, only one of which I actually wanted.
And a croissant.
So yeastless breads are a good lifestyle choice for me.
This one has molasses and brown sugar, raisins and wheat germ, and a hearty dose of buttermilk to add moisture. Could it please combine a few more of my favorite things? Like cheese? Maybe we could get some cheese in there? Or chocolate? OR PEANUT BUTTER?
Mara and I cut slices when it was still hot from the oven; the little pat of butter we put on each slice melted immediately, making that wonderful bright/salty/buttery marriage with the dark/sugary/heavy bread.
Good Brown Bread
1.5 cups wheat germ
1.5 cups whole wheat flour
1 tsp. salt
1.5 tsp. baking soda
.25 cup packed (dark) brown sugar
2 cups buttermilk
.5 cup dark molasses
.5 cup raisins
Combine wheat germ, wheat flour, salt, baking soda, and brown sugar in a big bowl. Combine the buttermilk and molasses, then add to dry ingredients. Stir in the raisins last, and bake in a lightly greased loaf pan at 350 for one hour.
I like yeastless breads, because I lack the patience and foresight required for baking risen bread. I feel like I always want fresh-baked bread at about 4:37 in the afternoon, when it's absolutely too late to start something that needs kneading and hours to rise. And if I happen to think of my craving the next morning, when there WOULD be time for all that, I simply can't be bothered.
And then I go to the bakery instead and walk out with about four different breads, only one of which I actually wanted.
And a croissant.
So yeastless breads are a good lifestyle choice for me.
This one has molasses and brown sugar, raisins and wheat germ, and a hearty dose of buttermilk to add moisture. Could it please combine a few more of my favorite things? Like cheese? Maybe we could get some cheese in there? Or chocolate? OR PEANUT BUTTER?
Mara and I cut slices when it was still hot from the oven; the little pat of butter we put on each slice melted immediately, making that wonderful bright/salty/buttery marriage with the dark/sugary/heavy bread.
Good Brown Bread
1.5 cups wheat germ
1.5 cups whole wheat flour
1 tsp. salt
1.5 tsp. baking soda
.25 cup packed (dark) brown sugar
2 cups buttermilk
.5 cup dark molasses
.5 cup raisins
Combine wheat germ, wheat flour, salt, baking soda, and brown sugar in a big bowl. Combine the buttermilk and molasses, then add to dry ingredients. Stir in the raisins last, and bake in a lightly greased loaf pan at 350 for one hour.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Risen Buckwheat Cakes
My family loves brunch. When at least two of us get together on a Saturday or Sunday, you can pretty much guarantee that something will be whipped together, fried in butter, slathered with maple syrup or jam, and eaten with bottomless cups of coffee.
This can present a problem for the size of my thighs.
Solution: risen buckwheat cakes!
We fry them on the griddle like pancakes, but they're made with yeast as well as baking soda, so we mix them up the evening before and let the batter rise overnight.
The molasses gives a hint of sweetness to balance the nutty buckwheat.
Because the buckwheat flour is so hearty, they're a heart-healthier option than our other favorite recipes; I think Jenny once calculated the Weight Watchers points on these, and got ten pancakes for one point. NOT. BAD.
Last weekend, we had these with heaping bowls of blueberries, stacks of free range/organically raised chicken sausages, and of course, the requisite bottomless cups of coffee.
The recipe was passed down to my mom from my grandfather, possibly passed on to him from his mother, which means that A) it's golden for my whole foods diet and B) some of the directions in the recipe are a little quaint...
Risen Buckwheat Cakes:
Ingredients:
Water
1 packet yeast
1 TBS cornmeal
1 tsp salt
Approximately 2-3 cups buckwheat flour
Approximately 1 cup white flour
3 TBS dark molasses
1/2 tsp baking soda
Approximately 1/2 cup milk
The night before:
Heat one pint water until lukewarm (not hot). And half cake yeast (we translate this as one dry packet) and stir until dissolved. Stir in one tablespoon cornmeal and one teaspoon salt. Then sift in enough buckwheat flour, mixing a little white flour as well, to make a medium-thick batter. Let rise overnight in a fairly warm place.
The day of:
Add three tablespoons dark molasses and half a teaspoon baking soda. Thin batter with milk. Fry in batches on hot griddle.
This can present a problem for the size of my thighs.
Solution: risen buckwheat cakes!
We fry them on the griddle like pancakes, but they're made with yeast as well as baking soda, so we mix them up the evening before and let the batter rise overnight.
The molasses gives a hint of sweetness to balance the nutty buckwheat.
Because the buckwheat flour is so hearty, they're a heart-healthier option than our other favorite recipes; I think Jenny once calculated the Weight Watchers points on these, and got ten pancakes for one point. NOT. BAD.
Last weekend, we had these with heaping bowls of blueberries, stacks of free range/organically raised chicken sausages, and of course, the requisite bottomless cups of coffee.
The recipe was passed down to my mom from my grandfather, possibly passed on to him from his mother, which means that A) it's golden for my whole foods diet and B) some of the directions in the recipe are a little quaint...
Risen Buckwheat Cakes:
Ingredients:
Water
1 packet yeast
1 TBS cornmeal
1 tsp salt
Approximately 2-3 cups buckwheat flour
Approximately 1 cup white flour
3 TBS dark molasses
1/2 tsp baking soda
Approximately 1/2 cup milk
The night before:
Heat one pint water until lukewarm (not hot). And half cake yeast (we translate this as one dry packet) and stir until dissolved. Stir in one tablespoon cornmeal and one teaspoon salt. Then sift in enough buckwheat flour, mixing a little white flour as well, to make a medium-thick batter. Let rise overnight in a fairly warm place.
The day of:
Add three tablespoons dark molasses and half a teaspoon baking soda. Thin batter with milk. Fry in batches on hot griddle.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Farmer's Market
My mom joined a CSA with a couple friends this year, so we went yesterday morning to meet her farmers and divvy up the goods among the group. While there, of course, we picked up some extraneous produce and cheeses, and a set of four Berkshire pork chops that cost an arm and a leg and look absolutely incredible. Photos coming of that meal tonight...
This is a locally-crafted goat cheese, rolled in lavender and lemon zest. I think they may have overdone it a little on the seasoning, but the cheese is soft and tangy, and the zest gives a flavorful crunch.
Above is a tiny loaf of dandelion bread, lovingly crafted by the young woman from whom my mom gets her weekly sack of goods. You can see the little dandelion hairs in the slice; she said they sat around for hours, delicately pulling the hairs from the greens. The resulting loaf was sweet and soft, a little like cornbread, and when spread with the smoky ripe camembert and topped with a fresh-picked strawberry from our own garden, absolutely heavenly.
This is a locally-crafted goat cheese, rolled in lavender and lemon zest. I think they may have overdone it a little on the seasoning, but the cheese is soft and tangy, and the zest gives a flavorful crunch.
Above is a tiny loaf of dandelion bread, lovingly crafted by the young woman from whom my mom gets her weekly sack of goods. You can see the little dandelion hairs in the slice; she said they sat around for hours, delicately pulling the hairs from the greens. The resulting loaf was sweet and soft, a little like cornbread, and when spread with the smoky ripe camembert and topped with a fresh-picked strawberry from our own garden, absolutely heavenly.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Sweet Summertime
I'm Homaha for the summer, on break from law school (ONBREAKFROMLAW SCHOOL!!!ZOMGG) and starting work for the public defender in just a couple weeks. Matt and I are heading to California next week for Kim and David's wedding, and I'll launch into work immediately upon my return. In the meantime, though, I'm taking a few days to run, play, read, write, generally decompress, and -- of course -- eat.
My mom and seven year old niece grow an amazing garden every year, which means there are always fresh vegetables and herbs for our meals, hand-picked only moments before cooking: as fresh and as local as you can possibly get. (Photos coming soon). Summer makes slow food so much easier.
This morning, for instance, Mara and I set out to make parfaits with organic yogurt, summer-sweet berries, and the granola mom recently baked up:
(The granola is just old fashioned oats, shredded unsweetened coconut, and chopped pecans coated in a little canola oil and honey, baked until golden and then tossed with tart dried cherries.)
We layered the ingredients. As one does with a parfait.
But when it came time to photograph, she grabbed some mint she'd picked from the garden last night for a garnish, and suddenly, your average fruit and yogurt parfait became a SUMMERTIME WORK OF ART:
You can't tell me that's not the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. Go on. Try it.
Liar.
In any case, we heartily enjoyed them:
And when they were gone, we had to do something with the extra few mint leaves and strawberries... Luckily for us, there was lemonade in the fridge.
My mom and seven year old niece grow an amazing garden every year, which means there are always fresh vegetables and herbs for our meals, hand-picked only moments before cooking: as fresh and as local as you can possibly get. (Photos coming soon). Summer makes slow food so much easier.
This morning, for instance, Mara and I set out to make parfaits with organic yogurt, summer-sweet berries, and the granola mom recently baked up:
(The granola is just old fashioned oats, shredded unsweetened coconut, and chopped pecans coated in a little canola oil and honey, baked until golden and then tossed with tart dried cherries.)
We layered the ingredients. As one does with a parfait.
But when it came time to photograph, she grabbed some mint she'd picked from the garden last night for a garnish, and suddenly, your average fruit and yogurt parfait became a SUMMERTIME WORK OF ART:
You can't tell me that's not the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. Go on. Try it.
Liar.
In any case, we heartily enjoyed them:
And when they were gone, we had to do something with the extra few mint leaves and strawberries... Luckily for us, there was lemonade in the fridge.
I'm rapidly revising my list of favorite months of the year. February? You got nothing on June.
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