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All posts tagged spinach

with your hands

spinach pizza

Once when I was little, one of my teachers had our entire class over for a pizza party. What I remember most was standing on a stool at a counter, spooning sauce onto a circle of dough and getting to top it with white strings of cheese, feeling very grown up. That was probably the best party ever. I kind of loved that teacher but, mostly, I loved that pizza.

Here’s the truth: I could eat pizza every day. Sometimes I do. I like the fancy ones that cost $15 at a nice restaurant, the frozen ones in cardboard boxes at the grocery story, even mozzarella and tomato sauce heaped high on a bagel. In my book, pizza = good. Always.

So as far as pizza goes, it’s hard to make me hate one (though not impossible, thank you, Domino’s, when we ordered you the second time at work), it’s easy to make me like one and it’s, seriously, not that hard to make me really like one.

Now love? Well, let’s just say this: If you can’t get to Chicago’s best Neapolitan-style pizza restaurant or to the place with the most hearty, meaty pizza pot pies in the Midwest, and if you can’t find that tiny place on Boston’s North End where they don’t even say they sell pizza, but you might get lucky and see someone eating one and then order it and, one bite in, think you’ve died and gone to heaven, well, then you have to make one.

homemade pizza

Even a hardcore pizza fan like myself has to admit that pizza made with your own hands far outshines any competition. And also, it just so happens I’m privileged to have an incredible mother who makes the most incredible meaty sauce you’ve ever had. Really. She froze a Tupperware container of it recently, and she gave it to me to use for a Sunday lunch. She should bottle it and sell it in grocery stores, it’s that good. And it’s perfect on pizza.

Sadly, this post is not about that sauce—mainly because she eyeballs things and feels her way around the recipe, and that sort of thing is very hard to communicate. Instead, this post is about two other things. 1) An easy pizza crust recipe that you really ought to try, and 2) A cookbook that, now, I am officially endorsing.

First, the pizza crust. When I was at Whole Foods this weekend, would you believe a frozen pizza, wrapped up and placed near the deli, cost $12? I suppose that’s not so bad when you think what it costs to buy one at Connie’s or Pizza Hut or, heck, even Domino’s, by way of comparison. But then, when you think how cheap the ingredients are for a good crust, it’s a shame not to do it yourself. You’ll need, essentially, the following: water, yeast, olive oil, flour (unbleached all-purpose or bread flour, which is what I used) and salt. Seriously. The process is just as simple: you’ll mix up and knead the dough, then let it rest, then finish kneading, then let it rest. Split it up into two sections and you’re ready to use it—or you can refrigerate it for tomorrow or freeze it for sometime later.

Before I go any further with the explanation of the pizza crust, I must get to the second thing: You really ought to buy The Art & Soul of Baking. After I got past the beautiful hardcover exterior and into the large pages of beautiful, colorful photos, I made its white bread, fougasse and (now) pizza crust, and I have to say I’m sold. Plus, it’s been endorsed by Dorie Greenspan, Anita Chu and Gourmet, where it was selected for the cookbook club. What more can I say?

OK, back to the pizza dough. Mine turned out very nicely, even though I may have pushed the first in the oven before it was fully preheated and pulled it out before the crust’s bottom was fully browned. Because the recipe makes two crusts, I shaped the first into a circle that fit our pizza pan; the second I sort of free-formed into a rectangle. Both were substantial—not as thin as I’d imagined—and held up with the toppings perfectly. I’ll be making the recipe again, no question, both because it’s simple and because, as you could guess, it’s delicious.





Pizza Dough
Adapted from the Art & Soul of Baking, by Cindy Mushet

Ingredients:
1/4 cup (2 ounces) warm water (110 to 115 degrees)
2 1/4 teaspoon active dry yeast (or 1 3/4 instant yeast)
1 cup (8 ounces) water
3 Tablespoons (1 1/2 ounces) olive oil, plus some for brushing
3 1/4 cups (16 1/4 ounces) bread flour (or unbleached all-purpose flour)
1 1/2 teaspoons salt

Directions:
MIX, REST & KNEAD DOUGH:
Pour the warm water into the bowl of the stand mixer. Add the yeast, whisk by hand to blend, and allow the mixture to sit for 5 to 10 minutes, until the yeast is activated and looks creamy. Add the 1 cup water and the 3 tablespoon olive oil and whisk by hand to blend. Add the flour and salt. Knead the dough on low speed for 2 minutes, or until it comes together in a cohesive mess. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap or a damp lint-free cotton towel and let the dough rest for 20 minutes to allow it to fully hydrate before further kneading. Turn the mixer to medium-low and continue to knead until the dough is firm, elastic, and smooth, 3 to 6 minutes. (Note: My mixer struggles with yeast-based mixing, and sometimes it jumps (!) off the hinge. Does this happen to anyone else?)

RISE THE DOUGH:
Cover the bowl tightly with plastic wrap and let the dough rise at room temperature until doubled, 45 to 60 minutes (longer if the room is cold).

DIVIDE & SHAPE THE DOUGH:
Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured work surface. Press down on the dough firmly to expel some of the air bubbles, but don’t knead the dough again or it will be too springy and difficult to shape (if this happens, simply cover the dough with plastic wrap or a damp lint-free cotton towel and let it rest for 10 to 15 minutes to give the gluten some time to relax). Divide the dough into half (or quarters if making smaller individual pizzas). At this point, you can refrigerate or freeze all or some of the dough (see “Getting Ahead” at the end of the recipe).

When ready to bake and after thawing out the dough if necessary, preheat the oven to 500 degrees F. Dust the top of the dough lightly with flour, then press down with your fingers (or use a rolling pin) to flatten the dough into a disk about 12 inches in diameter. Alternatively, slip your hands, knuckles up, under the dough and lift it up, then gently stretch the dough by pulling your fists apart. Rotate the dough a little each time you pull so the dough is stretch into an even circle. Brush any excess flour from the surface and underside of the dough.

TOP THE PIZZA:
Apply the toppings of your choice, leaving a 1/2 –inch border at the edges. (If you’re curious, here’s what I did: olive oil on the pizza pan, then the crust on top of that. Drizzle olive oil on top and indent all over with a fork to help the oil soak through. I covered it with Mom’s meat sauce, then loads of mozzarella, then shredded fresh spinach.)

BAKE THE PIZZA:
Bake for 7 to 9 minutes, until the dough is golden brown at the edges and across the bottom (use a metal spatula to lift the pizza slightly to check). Brush the edges of the pizza with the 1 tablespoon olive oil to give the golden crust a beautiful shine. Use a pizza cutter or chef’s knife to cut the pizza into 8 wedges and serve immediately.

All Warm Inside

soup to warm your soul

The other way to make January feel a little brighter, I mean beyond marshmallows plump with peppermint, should really come as no surprise. Cold days call for one thing, and it’s the kind of thing you probably wouldn’t mind eating on not-so-cold days, either: hot homemade soup.

Now, if this were any other food group, you might be tempted to point out that, hey, you just wrote about another soup, that potato and onion one, last week, didn’t you? You could legitimately ask, what, is this going to be like the cookies now, where you all get on a kick with something and make them over and over again? So I’m very glad it is soup—hot, comforting, perfectly seasoned soup—that’s in question. Or else I’d have very little to say in my defense.

So first things first, this is a spinach soup. Spinach is one of those things—along with tomatoes, asparagus, parmesan cheese and pecans—that I had to grow to enjoy. I liked Popeye as much as the next kid (although maybe not as much as my mom, who calls the real-life movie version her favorite), but even he didn’t make me want to eat leafy vegetables.

Instead, spinach and I grew together slowly, beginning in my late teens or early twenties with dishes that almost hid the spinach content, such as spinach-artichoke dip, which is filled with enough cream cheese and other things to make your forget your name, let alone what you’re eating. Then I think I moved towards fresh spinach in salads, sometime after I learned iceberg lettuce has basically no nutritional value and back when I tried to eat strictly “healthy” things for a while. Somewhere along the line, spinach kind of sneaked up on me as a faithful friend. It was almost as if one day, I realized I actually thought spinach was delicious, that most things I’d tried it in were things I liked eating. And now, I’ll be darned if I don’t like it steamed or boiled or cooked up into some sort of quiche or frittata. In fact, you could say, if it’s got spinach, I’m in.

spinach soup makes winter better

Also, as a quick nutritional plug: Not only is spinach seriously worth letting grow on you for the taste factor, but also it is good for you like Popeye said. When steamed or, like in this soup, quickly boiled, it is a source of all kinds of vitamins, like A, C, K, magnesium and B9 (folic acid). I don’t know about you, but at the start of a new year, something comforting, delicious and healthy? I don’t think it could get much better. And, a few sips of this soup in your belly and the smell of it wafting through your kitchen, savory and strong, I bet you’ll be saying the same thing.



Potage Crème d’epinards or, Cream of Spinach Soup
Adapted from Mastering the Art of French Cooking, by the brilliant Julia Child

When making soup, it’s tempting to be a little heavy-handed with the salt, I know. But watch yourself: with this variety, the chicken stock adds enough saltiness, I promise, and you’ll be surprised at how beautifully seasoned everything turns out, just as it is.

Ingredients:
1/3 cup minced yellow onions (or green onions)
3 Tablespoons butter
3 to 4 packed cups of fresh spinach leaves and tender stems, washed and chopped into thin slices
l/2 teaspoon salt
3 Tablespoons all-purpose flour
5 1/2 cups boiling chicken broth or white stock (I combined one can of stock with about 2 cups of water and a chicken bouillon cube, boiled until cube dissolved)
2 egg yolks
l/2 cup whipping cream (I substituted coffee creamer)
1 to 2 Tablespoons softened butter

Directions:
Cook the onions slowly in the butter in a covered 2.5-quart saucepan for 5 to 10 minutes, until tender and transluscent but not browned.

Stir in the chopped spinach and salt, cover, and cook slowly for about 5 minutes or until the leaves are tender and wilted.

Sprinkle in the flour and stir over moderate heat for 3 minutes.

Off heat, beat in the boiling stock. Simmer for 5 minutes. (Optional: you may puree slightly with a food mill, a food processor or a stick blender, which is what I used; do not overmix). Return to saucepan and correct seasoning.

(*) If not to be served immediately, set aside uncovered. Reheat to simmer before proceeding.

Blend the yolks and cream in a mixing bowl. Beat a cupful of hot soup into them by driblets. Gradually beat in the rest of the soup in a thin stream. Return entire soup mixture to saucepan and stir over moderate heat for a minute or two to poach the egg yolks, but do not bring the soup to the simmer. Off heat, stir in the enrichment butter a tablespoon at a time.

Pour the soup into a tureen or soup cups and serve.

That’s One Point for Me

the pies i baked



In case anyone’s keeping track, I have not given up on pie. No, sir. In fact, since the Great Pumpkin Pie Disaster, I’ve tried again not once, but twice. (And I’ll be darned if I’m not going to find a way to screw up a few more well-meaning crusts, too. My dear friend Kelley sent me her go-to, and my old roommate Sonja teases me with promises that her grandma’s is the best. We shall see.)

Observing these things, my mom, kind woman that she is, went so far as to assure me she’s got Thanksgiving’s pumpkin pie covered this year. This was after my brother begged her to promise not to let me mess it up. This family of mine, they’re cheerleaders, you can tell.

All these things withstanding, no matter how many signs the universe sends that pie crust is just not my thing, along with skiing, swimming or, let’s face it, any sport requiring a level of coordination, I have not given up. Won’t give up. Am determined to get the hang of this stuff if it’s the last thing I do.

(Pie, are you listening? It’s you and me, and it’s war. And I’m winning this one, OK?)

I might need a minute.

Well, in honor of fellow underdogs across the world, I am happy to tell you, I had a small victory this weekend: a battle won, you could say. After reading Pioneer Woman’s promise about a pie crust being fantastic and wonderful and you-can’t-mess-it-up good, after looking through her step-by-step photos and assuring myself I could do what she did, I tried her recipe. And, are you ready? She was right.

The recipe makes three crusts, which you can freeze or use right away. That’s right. Could it be better?

The first, I made a variation on Emeril’s pumpkin custard pie—key word being variation. Not. Good. The lesson from that disaster was that molasses is rip-your-tongue-out disgusting in pumpkin pies. But also, that the crust wasn’t half-bad. With a decent filling, we might be on to something.

Sunday, I used the other two, one becoming a spinach quiche and the other housing yet another pumpkin pie (if you’re counting, that’s pumpkin-pie try #3). These turned out perfect: flaky, not-too-thick, ideal with both the savory tart/quiche and the sweet pie.

pumpkin pie



You can’t see me right now, but I’m practically punching the air with my fists in sheer joy. It’s Rocky Balboa meets Michael Phelps at the Olympics. Success at last! The recipe for the pumpkin filling comes right off the pumpkin can, so I’ll leave you to find that for yourselves. My only exception was using milk and corn starch instead of evaporated milk, which just made the custard need more time in the oven. Otherwise, it’s a classic. It’s tasty. It’s the one to try.


eaten pie


Now, the quiche? That was my real masterpiece. I didn’t even know I liked quiche. It’s not at all eggy—much more savory and filled with bursts of chopped spinach, cheddar and parmesan cheeses and chopped green onions. It’d make a happy breakfast, a satisfying lunch, maybe even a dinner—or, as I like it, slices for snacks all day long.

spinach quiche



In my opinion, the mark of a good pie crust, beyond my being able to create it, is versatility. I’d like it to be simple, yes. Tasty, of course. But what’s really fantastic is a pie crust you can use when you want to—freeze it today and make it Thanksgiving or next week or whatever—and fill with what you want—be it pumpkin pie or spinach quiche.

masterpiece of a quiche


I made these Sunday afternoon, around 4:30 PM. By 9:00, they were already more than half gone. In my book, that’s a victory. Hear that, pie? One point for me.





Spinach Quiche
Adapted from Bon Appetit, October 1991

Ingredients:
Crust recipe from Pioneer Woman Cooks
3 ounces cream cheese, room temperature
1/3 cup heavy cream
3 eggs
10 ounces fresh baby spinach, washed, drained and chopped
1/2 cup grated sharp cheddar cheese
1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
2 green onions, sliced
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper

Directions:
Preheat oven to 425°F. After defrosting the pie crust (15 minutes if it’s been frozen), roll it out on a flour surface to about 11 inches in diameter. Transfer to 9-inch tart pan. Push and trim edges to fit pan neatly.

In the bowl of a stand mixer (or a medium bowl), beat cream cheese until smooth. Gradually beat in cream and eggs. Mix in remaining ingredients. Pour mixture into prepared crust. Bake until crust is golden brown and filling is set, about 25 minutes. Cool 10 minutes before serving.



*Becky & Pumpkin Pie: For those of you who are curious, very ironically, no-pumpkins Becky tried her first Sunday, the same day I made this pie. And this is worth saying: she liked it.