Archive for February, 2009

But for These

02.05.09 // Comments:11

fingerling potatoes

Daylight hours, to me, are the ultimate luxury. Getting to choose your activities in the middle of the day—particularly between the hours of nine and five—is the kind of freedom I dream about and the kind that makes me look out my office window longingly sometimes, wondering where the passing cars are headed to at 2:30 in the afternoon. It’s a classic grass-is-greener lie I’m telling myself, I know, but nonetheless it’s there.

That’s why I really love having a day off in the middle of the week. And today, there were plenty of things I could have done—my last haircut was October, people—but instead, I ambled around, playing with my blog HTML (then panicking when I had all but destroyed it), going to the post office (again!), calling and recalling my accountant, running to the library (and wasting too much time there) and going to the grocery store (really, who are all these people that shop in the middle of the day?).

Why is it that when I want time to pass quickly, it doesn’t, but when I want a day to linger, it disappears? This was my day to enjoy hours of free time and my choice of leisure, but before I knew it, it was past 5 PM and the chickens in the oven hadn’t even finished roasting. I’d also burned some kale, dropped everything from utensils to bits of garlic and developed a major strain in my neck from talking on the phone while trying to put together a recipe. In many ways, this would have been a failed day.

But for the potatoes.

fingerling potatoes

You know how I feel about potatoes, of any kind, really. I can still practically taste those roasted red ones from last week, with their crispy skins and soft, fleshy insides. And today, in some act of serendipity or redemption, I mindlessly grabbed a bag of Dutch baby golds, not with any plan.

Have you had baby Dutch gold potatoes? Round and firm, with a light yellow skin, these small, creamy potatoes are hard not to love. In this particular recipe, the creamy texture of the insides comes out beautifully, infused with woodsy thyme and fresh citrus. Bits of garlic and olive oil thrown all over add to the appeal, and, I’m serious, one bite in, you’ll forget anything that’s frustrating you, whether it’s the smell of burnt produce you’ve just caused or the fact that you have to go back to work tomorrow.

Popping them into my mouth, one by one while I iced some cookies and then did dishes and then tried to make gravy, I honestly found them excellent therapy, a reminder that some things taste so close to perfection—so nicely seasoned and flavorful—that they make up for things that don’t. By the end of dinner, the whole bowl of them was gone, every last one but a few I salvaged. And when I eat them in my lunch tomorrow, even if I’m looking out my window at the passing cars, it will be with contentment.

Lemon Baby Potatoes
Adapted from Martha Stewart

A note about the ingredients: The original recipe called for white wine, which I didn’t have, but an online resource said diluted white wine vinegar makes a reliable stand-in. I realize I can’t vouch for comparison value, so if you use the white wine, do let me know how you like it, but, really, it’s hard to imagine these tasting any better than they did.

Ingredients:
1.5 pounds baby dutch gold potatoes
1 Tablespoon kosher salt, plus 1/2 teaspoon, plus more to taste
2 Tablespoon olive oil
1 garlic clove, minced
1/4 cup homemade or store-bought chicken stock
2 Tablespoons white white vinegar, diluted with water
1 Tablespoon fresh thyme leaves
1 Tablespoon unsalted butter
2 Tablespoons fresh lemon juice
Freshly ground pepper, to taste

Directions:
Cover potatoes with water in a pan. Add 1 tablespoon salt, and bring to a boil. Reduce heat, and simmer until tender, about 10 to 20 minutes. Drain potatoes and halve lengthwise.

Heat oil in a large skillet over medium-low heat. Add garlic, and cook until soft, about 2 minutes. Add potatoes, cut sides down, and cook until golden brown, about 10 minutes.

Stir in stock, vinegar and 1/2 teaspoon salt. Cook until liquid is reduced by a third, about 2 minutes.

Remove from heat. Add thyme and butter, and stir until butter has melted. Stir in lemon juice, salt and pepper.

Comments:11 Click here to comment! Categories: before the 2009 diet change

something in return

02.04.09 // Comments:11

chocolate panna cotta

Well, I don’t know how things are looking in your neck of the woods, but around here, they’re all bright and sunshine, despite what Punxsutawney Phil’s shadow said. I mean, yes, it’s cold. Oh wow, it’s cold. However, I do wake up to rays of streaming daylight now, and my drive home happens just as the sun sets, and this weekend’s temps are projected to be in the 50s.

Actually, February’s looking better than ever, wooing me with the anticipation of springtime. My eyes have stopped itching, so I can wear my contacts again. LOST is back. I have the day off tomorrow. And, yesterday, I bought 250 white bakery boxes for less than $35, through some online wholesaler that beat all the competition.

As far as the 250 bakery boxes—I probably should explain, shouldn’t I?—I have a few secret plans in the works, and I’ll tell you about them as soon as things are more finalized. For now, though, just know big things are brewing, and cross your fingers for me. Please? The very idea—or really, the possibilities before me—make me giddy with excitement. I don’t want to jinx anything.

Now, since it’s a little mean to tease you like that and also because you were all so nice about my lumpy hummus made with canned chickpeas and no tahini, I feel I ought to give you something in return. You’ve earned it. So I will.

And boy, this is something. Panna cotta.

Doesn’t the name panna cotta just sound pretty? It makes me feel like I’m wearing a black dress and sitting at a table with a linen table cloth. Yet it’s not pretentious: It’s true you could serve panna cotta at a dinner party to oohs and ahs, but it’s equally lovely on a small plate while you watch T.V. in your pajamas. The name comes from an Italian phrase that means “cooked cream,” and, essentially, that’s what it is: a blend of heated cream, milk and sugar, in this case also with chocolate; mixed with gelatin and water, chilled overnight.

An eggless custard that’s silky smooth, panna cotta came to me by sheer accident. As the owner of two fresh blood oranges (I can’t resist new produce when it’s in front of me), I Googled recipes that would use them up, without requiring me to buy any more, and I found this: chocolate panna cotta with blood oranges and pistachios.

chocolate panna cotta with blood oranges

Desserts like these invite elaborate presentation, so if you make it, you may as well comply. When you do, I offer these suggestions, based on my experience: 1) Don’t use long, skinny containers, even if they are pretty glasses. Panna cotta is a light, wobbly dessert (think Jell-O), and if it’s to hold up properly, it needs a substantial circumference at its base. Look for short, fat glasses or handy little ramekins. 2) When you mix up the custard to chill, go ahead and slice up your blood oranges and chop up the pistachios, too. The next day, when you’re loosening panna cotta onto plates, you’ll be glad to have the prep work behind you.

This dessert is as lovely to look at as it is to say. And taste? Spoon a bit into your mouth, the silky chocolate cream blending with bits of salted pistachios and tart oranges on your tongue, a mixture of salty and sweet flavors, and you’ll be hooked. While panna cotta may not be the kind of thing you’d eat buckets of (as certain versions of gelato could be, let’s say), it is the kind of thing that packs beauty with flavor and that leaves you feeling refreshed, not overloaded, when you’re done. Celebrate February with it or, celebrate the fact that it’s Wednesday. Heck, celebrate a bunch of white boxes. The choice is yours.

Milk Chocolate Panna Cotta with Blood Oranges and Pistachios
Lightly adapted from Whole Foods

Ingredients:
Canola oil
1 cup milk
2 1/4 teaspoons unflavored gelatin
2 cups whipping cream
1/2 cup sugar
6 ounces milk chocolate chips (or chopped chocolate)
2 blood oranges (alternatives: tangerines, oranges or red grapefruit), peels and pith removed, cut into segments
1/3 cup shelled salted pistachios, roughly chopped

Directions:
Brush your glasses, ramekins or custard cups very lightly with canola oil; set aside. Pour milk into a medium bowl. Sprinkle gelatin over milk and let stand until gelatin softens, about 5 minutes. Meanwhile, stir whipping cream and sugar together in a heavy medium saucepan over medium high heat until sugar dissolves. Bring to a boil, then remove from heat, add chocolate and whisk until melted. Whisk warm chocolate mixture into milk mixture in bowl and stir until completely dissolved. Pour into cups, cover and refrigerate for at least 6 hours.

When ready to serve, run a knife around the inside edge of the cups to loosen panna cotta, then turn them out onto plates and garnish with oranges and pistachios.

Comments:11 Click here to comment! Categories: before the 2009 diet change

happy reunion

02.02.09 // Comments:18

hummus

I don’t want to sugarcoat this for you, so I’m just going to say it: I am not a patient person. Some of you are, I bet. You’re the ones who wait in line at the post office, on your half-hour lunch break, with a package you’re mailing to your military friend, and when the clerk charges your credit card but doesn’t (!) stamp (!) your package (!) so that, days later, it gets sent back to you, you go right back to the post office with a smile on your face, explaining the situation while you wait for 20 minutes again to get the OK to mail the letter you already paid for.

I want to be best friends with you people like that. Or at least, I want to be patient like you. (And I want it RIGHT NOW.) This is a slow journey, you can tell.

One redeeming factor—if you can call it that—is what impatience does for my eating habits. Like this weekend, I had hummus.

I don’t remember the first time I had hummus, but I can almost guarantee I didn’t like it, not right away. Hummus is different than other appetizer-like spreads. It’s not dairy-based like cream cheese or sour cream, and it’s not exactly a dip, per se. You don’t stick potato chips in it—well, you could, I guess, in the way that you could stick sesame sticks in chocolate pudding (not that anyone here does that, ahem) but you probably wouldn’t.

hummus closer

Hummus stems from the Middle East, and it’s the kind of thing you’re sure to find at hookah bars and specialty grocers or, if I remember right, that tiny Arabic kebab place I stopped one time and the owner gave me free falafel, just because I told him I’d had it before, and he said his would be better. [It wasn’t, and I haven’t wanted falafel since.] Actually, today, you can find hummus just about anywhere, even your local grocery store, at least if it’s anything like mine. Over the past few weeks, I’ve been seeing and hearing about it in so many places that, I kid you not, Friday night I rushed straight from the office to the store, in search of a can of chickpeas.

Two things about canned chickpeas before we go any further: 1) Apparently, there are people who will say you are committing hummus sacrilege when you use canned chickpeas instead of dried. If you are one such person, I promise, I am not out to ruin the hummus experience for myself, or anyone reading for that matter. And if you’re inviting me over for your version, why, I’d love to, thank you. Name the time.

2) Chickpeas are garbanzo beans. Garbanzo beans are chickpeas. (Very technically, garbanzo beans are larger, chickpeas are smaller, but here in the U.S., the terms are used interchangeably.) This was something I did not know.

What I did already know about hummus, at least since whenever I’d tried it first, is its defining characteristic: texture. Creamy and thick, it’s stable enough to hold its shape when you dollop a chunk onto your spoon, like mortar spread on bricks, I think—smooth and lumpy, sturdy and substantial. I like it best slathered on hot, buttered pitas, its cool paste-like consistency dissolving on my tongue.

This particular recipe caught my eye because it doesn’t use tahini (Purists! Don’t leave! Even without tahini, hummus can be good!), and I didn’t want to buy a whole bottle of tahini for just one recipe. Also, this is garlic hummus, and I am a firm believer that most foods are improved with a little garlic thrown in.

The introduction for this recipe online said it’s perfect for people who’ve never had hummus, an ideal introduction, you might say.

I’d add it’s also an ideal way to get reacquainted, a happy reunion for someone who’s been busy running errands or running those errands again—or, you know, something like that.

Roasted Garlic Hummus
Adapted from Saad Fayed, About.com

Roasting garlic is my favorite part of this whole recipe: Take a head of garlic, chop off the top third, and wrap the rest in aluminum foil. Bake at 400 degrees for about 35 minutes. The smell is intoxicating—you may not want to leave your kitchen, ever.

Oh and also: Personally, I like cold hummus, but if you like yours hot, by all means give it a quick pop in the microwave or the stove at the end.

Ingredients:
1 can chickpeas/garbanzo beans (15 ounces)
2 tablespoons roasted garlic
1/2 Tablespoon lemon juice
2 Tablespoon olive oil
1/2 teaspoon oregano
(Salt, if desired)

Directions:
In a food processor*, process beans, garlic, olive oil, lemon juice and oregano until desired consistency. If hummus is too thick, simply add olive oil in small increments (1/2 teaspoon) until desired consistency. Season to taste.

*Who needs a food processor when you have a stick blender? Kelley, if you’re reading this, I owe you again on this one. The stick blender has opened up a whole new, easy-to-clean world of smoothies, soups and now, hummus.

Comments:18 Click here to comment! Categories: before the 2009 diet change