Black-eyed Peas with Kale, Kielbasa & Rice

Even though I have ancestral roots in the south, I did not grow up eating black-eyed peas on New Year’s Day.  In fact, I’m pretty sure I was an adult before I heard that, according to Southern tradition, a meal of Hoppin’ John (black-eyed peas and rice), greens, ham/smoked pork and cornbread on New Year’s Day was supposed to bring good luck during the year to come.  Even after I heard about it…and even though I love Southern peas (and had cooked Hoppin’ John during my restaurant days)…I never made a move to prepare this traditional meal on the first day of the year. I guess I’m just not very superstitious. But I do like good food.  So this year, when I discovered that I just happened to have all of the components of this traditional meal on hand, I decided to participate in the tradition (I can always appreciate a tasty food tradition).    

Black-eyed peas are basically the same pea as my beloved pink-eyed, purple hull pea that I get every summer at the farmer’s market.  Since I freeze some of these every year, I have never had any reason to purchase dried black-eyed peas.  But when I was at the last farmers’ market before Christmas, I saw that one of the growers had brought dried black-eyed peas (in anticipation of New Year’s demand, no doubt), so I grabbed a bag.  I knew they would be better than anything I could get at the store.  And I’m sure it crossed my mind that maybe…just maybe…this would be the year I would eat black-eyed peas on New Year’s Day.

As I was planning my meal for the first day of the year, it occurred to me that I had everything on hand to make a pretty fine meal out of my spontaneous purchase. I always keep rice in my pantry (so I could have made a basic dish of Hoppin’ John).  But at the same market when I purchased the peas I had also picked up a lovely bunch of Tuscan kale (which, when fresh, stores for an amazingly long time, covered with a towel and sealed inside a Tupperware container).  I had also purchased Kielbasa from a local grower at this same market earlier in the month.  If I had had nothing else but onions and garlic in my kitchen, I would have had the makings of a fine meal.

But as I thought about what kind of dish I wanted to make with these items I thought a little tomato (not too much) would be nice.  I could of course have opened a can and used part of it, but last fall I decided to experiment with freezing whole/unprocessed tomatoes from the market (I just didn’t have the time to make them into sauce).  I had read that all you needed to do in preparation for the freezer was core them and put them in freezer bags or air-tight containers.  Then, when you wanted to use them, just take out the number that you need and thaw them…

the skins would slip off and the flesh, while having a distinctively unpromising look, would be usable just like fresh tomato pulp for cooking. 

I’m happy to report that this process worked beautifully!  The flesh didn’t even look as unappetizing as I had assumed it would.  The thawing tomatoes did however produce a ton of liquid, so thawing on a plate is a must.  Also, when you chop them up, make sure you scrape up and use all the liquid.  I will be freezing tomatoes like this every fall from now on.  (If you didn’t happen to freeze any tomatoes last fall, but you do have a local winter farmer’s market, one of the growers may have frozen tomatoes for sale.  I know there is a grower who does this at my market.)

My final dish was delicious…simple and satisfying (after a season of complex tastes)…and oh-so warming on what turned out to be a bone-chilling first day of the year.  I have no illusions that consuming it will bring me luck.  But having a dish like this in my repertoire for the coldest and darkest days of the year will bring sustenance and comfort…making me more able to be about the business of living (with all of its ups and downs). 

Happy New Year.

  

Black-eyed Peas with Kale, Kielbasa & Rice

For local (Kansas City) followers, you can find the list of where I purchased my ingredients on my Brookside Farmers' Market page.

1 1/3 c. (1/2 lb.) black-eyed peas, soaked over-night

4 T. olive oil, divided (plus more as needed)

2 or 3 well-branched sprig of thyme

8 oz. Kielbasa (or other garlic sausage), sliced cross-wise 1/4- to 1/3-inch thick—see notes if your sausage is not pre-cooked

1 large onion, finely diced

2 to 3 cloves garlic, peeled and minced

1/8 t. cayenne (or 1/4 t. chipotle chili powder)—add more or less to taste

1 c. chopped peeled tomatoes (use canned or 8 oz. fresh—see text for instructions)

1 bunch Tuscan kale, leaves stripped (discard the stems—you should have 3 1/2 to 4 oz. trimmed greens) and cut cross-wise into 1 1/2-inch wide ribbons and thoroughly rinsed

1 c. chicken stock/broth or water

3/4 c. Basmati (or other long grain rice), cooked as you prefer (see notes)

Minced green onions (white and green portions), for garnish

Hot sauce, optional

Cornbread, optional

Drain and rinse the peas. Place them in a large saucepan and cover with fresh water by 2 inches. Bring to a boil. Lower the heat and skim off the foam that has risen to the surface. Add 2 T. of olive oil and the thyme. Cook the peas at a gentle simmer, stirring occasionally, until they are tender. Or, place the soaked, drained peas in a shallow gratin or baking dish, drizzle with the olive oil and add the thyme. Cover with boiling water by an inch, cover the pan with a tight fitting lid, or a piece of foil. Transfer to a 325° oven and bake until tender. Depending on your source and the freshness of the peas, they will take anywhere from an hour to two and a half hours to cook. Add salt to taste when they are half cooked.  They may be cooked ahead.  Because of the unpredictability of the cooking time, it might be best to cook them in the morning (or the day before).  Cool the beans in their cooking liquid.

Warm 2 T. of olive oil in a soup pot or Dutch oven set over moderate heat.  Brown the sliced sausages.  Using a slotted spoon, transfer to a plate and set aside.  Add the onion and garlic along with a pinch of salt. Sweat the onions until they are tender and translucent (about 10 minutes). Add the cayenne and cook for another minute or two.  Add the tomatoes and cook until reduced and thick.  Add the greens along with a good pinch of salt and cook until they begin to collapse.  Add the chicken stock, cover the pot and simmer until the greens are tender (about 20 to 30 minutes). Taste and salt as necessary.

Remove the sprigs of thyme and add the peas, along with their liquid, to the greens.  Add the sausage (scraping the plate well to get all the fat and juices).  I think this dish is all about the beans, greens and sausages, but if you want it to be more brothy (or if the beans, greens and sausages aren’t moving freely in the pot), add hot water (or stock) to obtain the ratio of liquids to solids that you prefer.  Simmer gently for a few moments to allow the flavors to blend.  Taste and correct the seasoning with salt, pepper and cayenne.

Serve by placing a large spoonful of rice at the edge of each bowl, followed by some of the beans and greens.  Drizzle generously with olive oil and scatter the scallions over all.  Serve, passing warm cornbread and hot sauce if you like.  Serves 4 to 6, depending on appetites.

Notes:  

• The Kielbasa I used when I made this was from a local grower.  Unlike most commercially available Kielbasa, it was fresh (not smoked or pre-cooked).  Since most people using this recipe will have access to the commercial, pre-cooked varieties, I have written the recipe for that style of sausage.  If, however, you have a fresh sausage, this is how you should proceed:  Place the sausages in a shallow pan and cover with cold water.  Bring the water, slowly (over a moderate flame), to a gentle simmer.  Continue to simmer gently until the sausages feel firm and springy to the touch—about 6 to 8 minutes.  Let the sausages cool in the cooking liquid.  Lift out and chill until ready to use.  Don’t throw the poaching liquid out!—use this to cook the black-eyed peas (supplementing as necessary with plain water so the peas are covered by an inch or two of liquid).  When you are ready to continue with the recipe, brown the whole sausage links in the pot in which the onions and greens will be cooked.  Lift them out and let cool before slicing into 1/4-inch thick rounds. 

• You may cook or steam the rice however you prefer.  My preferred method is as follows:  Place the rice in a heavy bottomed sauce pan (for 3/4 cup a 2- to 3-quart size is fine).  Add a cup and a half of water along with a good pinch of salt and a drizzle of olive oil or pat of butter (about 2 t.).  Place the pan over high heat and bring to a boil.  Allow the rice to boil (undisturbed) rapidly until most of the water has evaporated (if you tilt the pan, you shouldn't see any water) and the surface of the rice is covered with steam holes.  Cover the pan.  If you have an electric stove, transfer the pan to a burner set at the lowest setting.  If you have a gas stove, simply reduce the heat to the lowest setting.  Allow the rice to steam for 12 minutes.  Turn off the heat and let sit (covered) for another 5 minutes.  Uncover and fluff. 

Printable Version

Simple Food for Everyday...Basmati Pilaf with Mushrooms, Peas and Sage...served with a Pan-seared Pork Chop...

At home I don't very often prepare a traditional "meat-veg-starch" kind of meal ...the kind many of us grew up eating....the kind a friend recently decried as boring as she bemoaned the state of her everyday cooking.  At the time I encouraged her that there is nothing wrong with good, basic fare that has been prepared at home from scratch...  But I think that most of us—no matter what our level of skill in the kitchen—feel as my friend feels at one time or another....  The fact is, we cook things on a daily basis with which we are familiar...things we can execute successfully—without too much effort.  The ability to do this should be viewed as a good thing...not something to apologize for.  Feeding ourselves and our families well is the goal, after all.  Unfortunately, food TV...and blogs...have conditioned us to think that every meal should be new, different, exciting...a photo opportunity.

I thought of my friend as I was preparing my meal on Tuesday evening this past week.  My week was hectic...and I was tired of pasta (it does happen occasionally...) so I grabbed a pork chop at the store while I shopped for clients.  At home I knew I had available starches (all kinds of grains....potatoes....) and a few vegetables from the market....and that with the addition of the pork chop a nice dinner would happen.  And it did.  And because the meat-veg-starch pattern is not my personal norm, it felt kind of special. 

I admit that when I got home I discovered my pantry wasn't as full as I had thought.  I didn't have any potatoes...and none of the vegetables I had were plentiful enough to become a side dish for two.  But I did have rice....and some English peas and spring onions from the market....as well as a few crimini mushrooms.  While gathering my ingredients, I stepped outside to see if I wanted to add some herbs and settled on some sage....traditional (some might say boring) and delicious with pork. 

Pulling all of this together quickly into a tasty meal is simply a matter of timing (thinking through the process before you jump in) and applying basic cooking skills (sweating, sautéing, blanching, pan-searing, roasting, resting...).  If you are a novice, this is a daunting task.  Anyone who has mastered all of this should feel great about it....not inadequate.  Helping people to do this every day is one of the reasons I teach cooking classes and keep a food blog.

I organized this particular meal around the preparation of the pilaf, knowing that the cooking of everything that went into the pilaf...plus the cooking and resting of the pork...could be accomplished in the time it would take the pilaf to cook.  The sage I grabbed at the last minute turned out to be a wonderful unifying element...added to the mushrooms at the end of the cooking...and also to the pan with the pork chop (enabling me to drizzle buttery, sage-infused pork drippings over each plate).  I didn't time the meal, but I think it was only about half an hour...maybe a bit more...from the time I picked the sage to the moment when I folded the mushrooms and peas into the finished pilaf and sliced the rested pork. 

So, I wonder, was this meal boring?  Perhaps to some.  But to me, it was just the thing for a busy weeknight:  Quick, simple and absolutely delicious.  Every meal should be so boring.

Basmati Pilaf with Mushrooms, Peas and Sage

2 large spring onions, white and pale green portions diced (you should have about 1/2 cup) and a few inches of the green, thinly sliced cross-wise (to make 3 or 4 T.)

3 T. butter, divided

1/2 c. Basmati rice

a scant cup chicken stock

salt & pepper

4 oz. crimini mushrooms, sliced 1/4-inch thick

1/2 cup shelled peas

3 large sage leaves, cut into a fine chiffonade (about 1 T.)

In a small saucepan with a tight fitting lid, melt half of the butter over medium heat.  Add the white and pale green portions of the onion along with a pinch of salt and sweat until the onions are tender and translucent—about 5 minutes.  While the onions cook, heat the stock to a simmer and keep hot.

When the onions are tender, add the rice and continue to cook for a couple of minutes or until the rice is well-coated with butter and has begun to turn opaque.  

Add the hot stock and a pinch of salt.  Bring the rice to a rapid boil.  Cover reduce the heat to very low (or, transfer to a 375° oven) and cook for 16 minutes.  Remove the pan from the heat (or, the oven).  Scatter the thinly sliced green of the onions over the rice, cover again and let stand for 5 minutes. 

While the rice cooks prepare the mushrooms and peas.  Blanch the peas in boiling salted water until tender.  Drain and shock under cold running water.  (If using frozen peas, simply thaw by rinsing under hot tap water.)  Set aside.  Melt a tablespoon of butter in a medium sauté pan set over moderate heat.  Add the mushrooms, along with a pinch of salt and gently stew the mushrooms, stirring occasionally, until any liquid they have released evaporates and the mushrooms begin to sizzle and brown in the butter.  Taste and correct the seasoning.  Add the sage chiffonade and toss to combine...adding the last of the butter if the pan seems dry.  Remove from the heat and set aside. 

When the pilaf has rested for 5 minutes, fold in the mushrooms and peas.  Taste and correct the seasoning.  Serves 2

Note: Recipe is easily doubled..or tripled.  As you increase the size of the recipe...and therefore the size of the pan...choose pans that are wider than they are tall.

Printable Recipe

Pan-seared Pork Loin chop with Sage

Place a heavy sauté pan (cast iron or French steel are perfect) that is just large enough to hold the pork over medium-high to high heat.  While the pan heats, pat the surfaces of the pork dry with a paper towel and season the pork chop(s) well with salt and pepper.  Add a thin film of oil to the pan—when the oil ripples and a faint wisp of smoke appears, add the pork to the pan.  Regulate the heat to maintain an active sizzle (you will probably have to reduce the heat slightly).  When the pork is golden brown on the first side (after a couple of minutes), turn it over to brown the other side.  When the second side is golden brown, reduce the heat slightly and if you have thick chops, briefly place the chops on their edges, rotating and moving so that all of the edges are lightly seared. 

Return the pork to their first sides and add some butter to the pan (2 to 3 teaspoons per chop) and allow it to melt and foam.  For each chop add 2 large...or 3 or 4 small...sage leaves (tearing large leaves in halves or thirds) to the butter.  Turn the chops over a couple of time to coat and baste them in the sage and butter.  At this point you may continue to cook them on the stove top...or (and this is my preference) transfer them to a 375° oven to finish the cooking.  Whichever you choose, continue to turn the chops occasionally to baste them with the butter and encourage them to cook evenly. 

You should cook the pork to the doneness that you prefer.  I like mine to be juicy...with a faint touch of pink...which occurs just under 140°, so I remove my pork from the pan/oven when it is somewhere between 130° and 135° (the temperature will continue to increase as the pork rests).  When it has reached the temperature you like, remove the pork from the pan and pour the sage-infused butter and drippings over the pork.  Let rest for 5 to 10 minutes.  Slice (if you like) and serve with the drippings poured over. 

The length of cooking time will depend on the thickness of the pork chops, but for a chop that is around an inch thick, it reaches my desired temperature in about 12 to 15 minutes from the time I put it in the pan. 

Printable Recipe

  

Soup for a Cool Spring Day…Minestra Verdissima

We are having one of the most beautiful Spring seasons in my recent memory.  There have been no late freezes to nip back the early blooming bulbs, trees and shrubs….and we haven’t had a lot of the unseasonably hot days that tend to force the cool season flower progression into warp speed.   Spring has been long, mild and delightful.  We have probably had what many people would consider too many cool, cloudy and damp days….but I don’t mind them at all.  They encourage all the lovely blooms to linger and they have a calm, quiet beauty that forces you to take time…and look …and absorb.  And they make the sunny days seem all the more lovely.

This past weekend we were cool enough that it was downright chilly.  As the day progressed I became hungry for a warming bowl of soup.  Since I had a batch of freshly made arugula pesto on hand, the soup that immediately came to mind was a Spring soup called Minestra Verdissima….or “a very green soup”.  Minestra Verdissima is a light minestrone made with all green Spring and early Summer vegetables.  Like minestrone it is finished with pesto…usually arugula or spinach pesto since these are both abundant in the Spring. 

Because I didn’t have all of the traditional ingredients on hand, I decided to improvise a little…using what I had on hand (going to the grocery store on a Sunday isn’t my idea of fun).  For the soup base, I used a bunch of the spring onions I had purchased at Saturday’s farmers market.  If I hadn’t had them, I could have used onion or, even better, leek.  Most recipes for Minestra Verdissima are finished with the addition of some cooked shell beans or rice or small pasta….or some combination thereof.  But instead of adding these at the end, I decided to follow Judy Roger’s method for a delicious asparagus and rice soup in her Zuni Café Cookbook: she cooks the rice in the water which ultimately becomes the soup’s broth.  And since I had some pink-eyed peas in my freezer (frozen during the height of the season last summer) I decided to add these along with the rice rather than adding the more traditional cooked dried beans at the end. 

Pink-eyed Peas from the market...last August.
I always purchase extra for the freezer...

For the remaining additions, I again simply used what I had:  Asparagus (from the market) and English peas (like the pink-eyed peas, socked away in my freezer last summer).  I chose again to follow Judy Roger’s lead and stew the asparagus and peas in a bit of fat (I used butter, but if I had had some pancetta, rendering it and cooking the vegetables in the rendered fat would have been a delicious way to go) before adding them to the soup when the pink-eyed peas and rice were done cooking. 

You could of course just add the raw vegetables to the soup during the last five to ten minutes of cooking, but I think you get a richer vegetable flavor if you cook the vegetables in some fat first.  (Don’t forget to rinse out the pan the asparagus and peas have been cooked in with some of the soup broth…you don’t want to lose any of the flavor.)

I imagine it is obvious, but I want to point out that this soup can be made with almost any combination of green vegetables that you have on hand:  Artichokes….fennel…green beans….zucchini….broccoli…and of course, asparagus and English peas.  Simply cut your chosen vegetable in uniform (smallish) pieces and add them at an appropriate moment—stewing the artichokes and fennel for perhaps 20 minutes or so (until almost tender) before adding the other, more yielding, green vegetables.   The idea is to achieve a soup that is a tapestry of greens… 

with touches of ivory, white or beige from the additions of pasta, beans, rice…or even farro or diced potatoes.  The pesto…swirled in at the table…is the crowning touch.  It magically turns the soup a vibrant spring green….

Over the years I have come to believe that eating seasonally is about so much more than eating what the earth around me is currently producing.  It also has to do with (among other things) eating foods that are in sync with the weather and my mood.  On Sunday I was hungry for a homey soup because of the chill in the air and the slow, lazy pace of my afternoon.  But while a hearty, traditional minestrone might have seemed perfect, to me it would have seemed jarring with its bold flavors and deep colors.  But my little minestra was just perfect.  It was filled with ‘seasonal’ produce… was warm and soothing to ward off the chill in the air….and was at the same time permeated with the subtle vibrancy of a cloudy and cool spring day.

Minestra Verdissima

2 T. unsalted butter (or olive oil)

5 or 6 spring onions, halved and thinly sliced (white and pale green only) to make 1 cup—substitute thinly sliced leeks (white and pale green only), or finely diced onion, if spring onions aren't available

1/4 to 1/3 c. Arborio or Carnaroli rice

1/2 c. frozen shell beans (pink-eyed peas, crowder peas, lady peas, etc.)

3 1/2 to 4 c. water or light chicken stock

1 T. unsalted butter (or olive oil)

4 oz. trimmed asparagus, cut into 1/4-inch lengths on a short diagonal (a generous cup)

1/2 cup English peas (fresh or frozen)

Arugula (or Spinach) pesto, room temperature

Heat 2 T. butter in a medium saucepan set over medium-low heat.  Add the spring onions and a pinch of salt and sweat until very tender and translucent—about 5 minutes (leeks or onions will take 10 to 15 minutes…don’t shortcut this step).  Add the rice, shell beans and 3 1/2 cups water (or stock) and bring to a simmer.  Cover and cook until the rice and beans are  tender (about 15 minutes). 

About 10 minutes before the rice and beans are done, melt the remaining tablespoon of butter in a sauté pan set over medium heat. Add the asparagus and peas along with a pinch of salt, stirring to coat the vegetables in the butter.  Let the vegetables gently sizzle until they are tender, stirring occasionally.   

When the rice/beans are cooked, scrape the asparagus and peas into the soup.  Swirl a ladleful of the broth around the sauté pan to get all the flavorful bits and add it back to the soup. Bring the soup to a boil and let simmer for a minute or two to allow the flavors to blend.  Taste and correct the seasoning.  If the soup seems too “crowded” with vegetables, add more water or stock.

Ladle the soup into bowls and place a dollop of pesto in the center of each bowl, allowing each person to swirl the pesto into their soup at the table.  Pass more pesto on the side if you like.

Serves 3 or 4. 

Notes & Variations:

• Recipe is easly doubled, tripled, etc. 
• When making this soup, carefully season at each step. Because it is subtle and mild, it will taste bland if not seasoned well. 
• Add a couple of ounces of minced pancetta. To add, place the pancetta in the sauté pan and cook until rendered and beginning to crisp—adding some olive oil or butter only if the pancetta is very lean. When the pancetta is rendered, add the asparagus and peas and proceed with the recipe. 
• As noted in the post this soup can be made with many combinations of starches and green vegetables…I like the soup best when the total quantity of cooked starches (rice, potatoes, beans, pasta) is roughly the same as the quantity of green vegetables…with maybe a little more green vegetable than starch….. 
• You may use leftover/previously cooked rice or beans (and of course, pasta…choose something small, like soup shells or orzo…). To do this, add the green vegetables to the cooked onion, cooking until just tender before adding water or broth. Bring the broth to a simmer and then add the cooked grain, beans or pasta (adding any bean cooking liquid you might have along with the beans). Bring back to a simmer and serve.

Printable Version

A Season of Simple Delights, a Pecan Pie, and a Post Holiday Turkey Soup

For a variety of reasons, the number gathered at my Thanksgiving table this year was quite small.  This was a first for me.  My extended family isn’t huge….but the small gathering was still unprecedented.  Heading into the day, I was a bit bummed about this.  But in the end, it turned out to be a lovely, unusually peaceful day.  It was, in fact, a year of many delightful “firsts”. 

One of the gifts that came as a result of our small number was my first opportunity to enjoy Thanksgiving dinner on my grandmother’s “turkey” dinner plates.  I don’t know how many plates were in the original set, but only three have made it to my generation.   There were probably never very many…even as a child, we never ate off of them when we gathered for the large celebrations in her home.  But I heard her refer to them…and I know they were special to her.  Using them for our Thanksgiving meal this year was a pleasure. 

Another first of the day was pecan pie.  I know this is a staple on many family tables, but it never appeared on ours.  My family is quite attached to their tradition of pumpkin and mincemeat pies, so this is what we always have.  There is nothing wrong with either of these pies…mincemeat pie is in fact a personal holiday favorite….but there are other holiday pies in the universe and I have always wanted to branch out a bit.  This year was the perfect opportunity.

The pie that I made was a bit unusual, and because of that I thought it worth sharing here.  Heading into Thanksgiving morning, I fully intended to make my friend Nancy’s version of pecan pie (the one she teaches in our joint class).  But for some reason on Thanksgiving morning, I was flipping through Rose Beranbaum’s Pie and Pastry Bible and I noticed that she used Golden Syrup in her pecan pie instead of the more traditional Karo Syrup.

For those unfamiliar with Golden Syrup, it is a British staple.  It is a cane syrup rather than a corn syrup and it has a unique—I think it’s a bit caramel-y, but some say buttery—and delicious taste.  Karo’s corn syrup by comparison is relatively flavorless.  Since I always keep a jar of Lyle’s on hand in case I happen to be in the mood for gingerbread, I decided that while I was doing different, I should really be different and substitute Lyle’s Golden Syrup in the recipe.  It is an inspired substitution….  the pie was delicious.

On a technical note, because Lyle’s has a higher saturation of sugar than Karo syrup, I decided to use just a bit less.  The resulting pie was firmer than usual, but I liked it this way…it sliced beautifully.  If you prefer the softer set of a traditional pecan pie, just add a couple tablespoons of water (or Bourbon….or brandy…) to the egg-sugar-syrup mixture.  The easiest way to do this would be to place two tablespoons of water in a one cup glass measure and then add Lyle’s syrup to make 1 cup.

Finally, because our meal was smaller than usual, the mountain of dishes after the feast was also comparatively small.  So after the meal, I experienced another first.  I made turkey broth.  I know this is probably a shock to hear since I am a chef.  But I have just never bothered.  There is so much else to do during the clean up…and I have never been terribly motivated to do that one more thing.  But this year, as I looked around the kitchen, I noticed that the stove wasn’t covered in used pots and pans….and the stock pot had not been used for other things….  It was an easy thing to drop the turkey carcass into a pot and let it simmer away while I cleaned up the kitchen. 

And I was so glad I did.  On Saturday night we had a simple turkey soup with vegetables and rice.  I’m not sure I have ever used Thanksgiving leftovers for soup.  We always have sandwiches…tetrazzini and other casseroles…salads…etc. etc.   Thus, one more unexpected first.  And as we sat down last night to enjoy our turkey soup, I realized why it is such a traditional and fine use of leftover turkey (and broth).  After a couple of days of rich holiday foods, the comparatively austere soup was truly soothing.  I will definitely be adding soup to my rotation of uses for leftover turkey. 

You can probably put anything you like in a “leftover turkey soup”…but it will be better if you adopt a less-is-more mentality (your soup probably doesn't need stuffing...or a big mish-mosh of left over cooked vegetables).  I started with a basic onion, carrot, celery and thyme base and added cubed sweet potatoes, shredded Brussels sprouts (both left on hand from purchasing too much ahead of the big meal), Basmati rice and turkey.  The Basmati rice was a wonderful addition, subtly perfuming the soup with its unique aroma and flavor.  But if you don’t keep it on hand, regular long grain rice …or orzo pasta…or farro… would be fine.

As I mentioned at the first, I had a very nice Thanksgiving.  Delightful moments...big and small...added up to a pretty special day.  It is so unfortunate that at this holiday time of the year, it is so easy to be disappointed.   I confess I have been guilty of this.  But this year, since I had no expectations for this particular holiday, I found that there were so many things to enjoy.  I’m not a person who makes personal lists…resolutions at New Year’s…things I’m thankful for at Thanksgiving….but if I were, this year at the top of the list of things I’m thankful for would be that I had the rare opportunity to open my eyes and see the delights that are there….rather than being disappointed about the expected things that are not.  And from this vantage point, the list of things for which I am grateful becomes very long indeed. 

 

Pecan Pie

One 9-inch pie crust, chilled

175 grams roughly chopped pecans (1 1/2 c.)

3 eggs

200 grams brown sugar (1 cup)

300 grams Lyle’s Golden Syrup (7 fl. oz./1 cup minus 2 T.)

2 oz. (4 T.) melted unsalted butter

1 t. vanilla

1/2 t. salt

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Scatter the pecans over the bottom of the pie crust.

In a large bowl, whisk the eggs, brown sugar, golden syrup, butter, vanilla and salt. Pour into the pie shell.

Place pie in the oven and bake for about 30 minutes.  Carefully tent the pie with foil, to prevent over browning.  Continue to bake until the pie is set—another 30 minutes or so.  It will still be a bit jiggly, but a knife inserted in the center should come out moist but not liquid.  Cool 4 to 6 hours before slicing.  Use a sharp serrated knife to get the cleanest, most precise slices.

Makes one 9-inch pie.

Note: If you like, place two tablespoons of water in your measuring cup, then add Lyle's syrup to make 1 cup.  This will give you a cup of syrup that has roughly the same sugar saturation as Karo syrup.  The pie is delicious and slices beautifully as written, but if you are trying to mimic the texture of a corn syrup based pie, the added water will get you closer to it.  

Basic Pie Dough:

1 1/3 c. all-purpose flour (150g)

3/8 t. salt

5 1/2 T. cold unsalted butter, cut into pieces (77g)

3 T. chilled vegetable shortening (36g)

3 to 4 T. ice water

Combine the flour and the salt in a medium-sized bowl.  Rub the butter into the flour until the butter is in small pea-sized pieces. Drizzle 3 T. ice water over the flour/butter mixture.  Using your hands, fluff the mixture until it begins to clump, adding more water if necessary.  If, when you squeeze some of the mixture it holds together, the dough is finished.  Turn the dough out onto a counter and form into a mound.  Using the heel of your hand, gradually push all of the dough away from you in short forward strokes, flattening out the lumps.  Continue until all of the dough is flat.  Using a bench scraper, scrape the dough off the counter, forming it into a single clump as you do.  Wrap in plastic wrap, pressing the dough into a thick disk.  Chill for at least 30 minutes.

To roll out a bottom crust, let the disk of dough warm up for a moment or two.  Butter a 9-inch pie plate and set it aside.  Flour the work surface and the rolling pin.  Begin rolling from the center of the dough outward.  After each stroke, rotate the dough a quarter turn—always making sure that there is sufficient flour to keep the dough from sticking.  Keep rolling and turning until you have a round of dough that is about 1/8 to 1/6 –inch in thickness.  Using a lid or an upside-down bowl, trim the dough to form a 13-inch circle.   Brush off the excess flour and fold the dough circle in half.  Slide the outspread fingers of both hands under the dough and gently lift it and transfer it to the prepared pie plate.  Unfold the dough and ease it into the pan being careful not to stretch it.  Fold the extra dough under along the rim of the pan so that it is double in thickness.  Crimp the edge. Chill the pie shell for at least 1/2 hour before filling.

Printable Recipe

“Leftover” Turkey & Rice Soup

2 1/2 to 3 T. unsalted butter

1 small onion (about 5 oz.), cut in 1/4-inch dice (1 cup)

1 carrot, peeled and cut in 1/4-inch dice (2/3 cup)

1 small celery stick, cut in 1/4-inch dice (1/3 cup)

1/2 T. minced fresh thyme

1 1/5 c. diced (1/3- to 1/2-inch) sweet potato

3 1/2 to 4 cups Turkey broth (or more if you prefer a soup with a greater proportion of broth)

3 T. Basmati rice

3 to 4 oz. Brussels sprouts, trimmed, cored and thinly sliced (1 cup sliced)

1 cup diced cooked turkey

In a large saucepan over medium heat, melt butter.  Add the onion, carrot, celery and thyme along with a pinch of salt and sweat until very soft (about 15 minutes).  Add the sweet potato and cook until hot and beginning to sizzle in the butter.  

Add the stock and bring to a boil.   Taste and season with salt.  Add the rice, return to a simmer, cover and simmer gently for five minutes.  Add the sprouts, return to a simmer and cook until the sweet potatoes, rice and sprouts are tender—another 10 minutes or so.  Taste and correct the seasoning.  Remove from the heat, stir in the turkey and cover and let sit for five minutes to warm the turkey through.

Makes a generous quart of soup.

Notes:

• Turkey broth can be made simply by placing the roast turkey carcass in a stock pot, covering by an inch with cold water and gently simmering until flavorful...two or three hours.  You may of course add onions, carrot, celery, etc. as for a traditional stock if you like.  
• Don't boil the soup after you add the turkey...it will make the turkey hard and chewy...particularly if you are using white meat. 
• Recipe is easily multiplied.

Printable Recipe

Winter Squash & Rice Gratin

I mentioned a few posts back that I enjoy teaching cooking classes that are organized around one ingredient or a seasonal group of ingredients.  "Single-ingredient" classes are interesting for a lot of reasons, but there are two particular things I always focus on when I'm preparing for this kind of class.  The first is technique.  A class where one ingredient shows up in four or five recipes is a perfect opportunity to talk about how that ingredient responds to a wide variety of techniques...blanching, roasting, sautéing, braising, etc.  Since it's easy to get in a "food rut"—always blanching green beans...or roasting corn...etc.—I hope that by covering a variety of techniques people will be inspired to try something new.  The second thing I like to highlight in a single ingredient class is flavor combinations.  There is of course no way I could possibly demonstrate all of the possible natural flavor partners a single vegetable or fruit might have...but just showing a few—and discussing a few more—is enough to get people's creative juices flowing.  And when I think about it, a foundation of good technique along with an understanding of the interplay of flavors is pretty much what good cooking is all about. 

Recently I have been working on recipes for a new single-ingredient class featuring winter squash and sweet potatoes.  Two of the recipes have already appeared here on my blog (Sweet Potato Pancakes with a Medley of Corn, Sweet Potatoes & Black Beans and a Kale, Sweet Potato & Chorizo Soup).  Between these two recipes I will get to demonstrate three techniques (roasting for a purée, sautéing and poaching) as well as a variety of interesting flavor partners for these two vegetables (sweet corn, bitter kale, spicy-salty cured sausage).  I included the recipe that I am posting today in the class because it illustrates a simple technique for braising squash (borrowed from a pasta recipe I posted a couple of years ago) that produces nice, tender, intact chunks of squash.  For a detailed explanation of the technique, you should check out that post.   In the area of flavor combinations, this gratin features one of my favorites—squash (or sweet potatoes) with mushrooms.  I love the contrast of the earthy mushrooms with the sweet squash.  On my blog this pairing has shown up in a pizza, a pasta and a simple vegetable gratin.  I guess you could say this is one of my own personal food ruts.  But not everyone has tried this combination...the beauty of cooking is that one person's rut is another person's uncharted territory.  As a bonus, the recipe includes three other natural partners for squash: salty bacon, salty-nutty Gruyère and sweet, rich leeks.

The inspiration for this recipe is mostly from a summer squash, rice and leek gratin featured in Vegetarian Suppers from Deborah Madison's Kitchen.  But as Madison says, her recipe is simply a specific example of a homey kind of Provençal rice gratin.  While I was staying in Provence I sampled a winter squash version that included Ham and onions as well as a bit of cream.  And while working on this recipe, I ran across one on line that included winter squash, bacon, leeks and a bit of Greek yogurt.  My final recipe is a blending of these three (with the addition of mushrooms).

The basic idea for this style of gratin is to combine cooked rice with roughly an equal quantity of cooked vegetables (I like a bit more vegetables than rice...but it's up to you), spread the mixture in a shallow baking dish,  top it with breadcrumbs and bake until hot and golden.  The vegetables you use shouldn't be too dry... and similarly it isn't a problem if the rice is a bit wet.  The gratin may be enhanced with cheeses, cooked meats, olive oil or the aforementioned cream. 

I have written the recipe assuming that you will make all of the components, combine them and bake them right away, but you could always assemble the gratin ahead and refrigerate it until you are ready to bake it.  You should bring it to room temperature before baking.  Even so, you will have to increase the baking time just a bit to account for the fact that all of the individual ingredients aren't already hot.

I suspect that in its original incarnation this kind of gratin was a way of using up leftovers.  So if you happen to have some leftover cooked rice on hand...and you have a pile of the current season's squash on your kitchen counter, this would be the perfect thing to make for dinner.  If by chance there is anything left over...it will make a terrific lunch.

Leftover lunch...with a salad and an apple

 

Winter Squash & Rice Gratin

with Mushrooms & Leeks

2 slices bacon (2 oz.), cut cross-wise in 1/2-inch pieces

2 c. diced (scant 1/2-inch) winter squash (10 oz.)—butternut, red kuri, etc.

2 1/2 to 3 T. olive oil, divided

4 oz. Crimini or white button mushrooms, sliced 1/4-inch thick

1 medium leek, white and pale green part only, halved, sliced cross-wise into 1/2-inch pieces and rinsed in several changes of water

1/2 to 1 t. each minced fresh thyme and sage

1/2 c. chicken stock

1/2 c. Basmati rice

1/2 c. coarse, fresh breadcrumbs (from day-old bread is perfect)

2 oz. coarsely grated Gruyère

Salt & Pepper

In a medium-sized sauté pan (something wide enough to hold the squash in a snug single layer...a 9- or 10-inch cooking surface is about right), render the bacon over medium-low heat until crisp.  Remove the bacon to a plate and increase the heat to medium-high.  (Pour off some of the fat if the bacon was very fatty...there should be about a tablespoon of fat in the pan.)  Add the squash and toss to coat in the fat. Sauté (tossing occasionally) until the squash begins to caramelize in spots—about 5 minutes. Reduce the heat to medium if the squash threatens to burn. 

Remove the squash to a plate and return the pan to the heat.  Add a tablespoon or so of olive oil to the pan and toss in the mushrooms.  Sauté until softened and beginning to brown—about 3 minutes.  Reduce the heat to low and season with salt.  If the pan seems dry, add a bit more olive oil.  Add the leeks to the pan, along with a pinch of salt and cook until wilted, stirring frequently.  Don't let the leeks brown—if necessary reduce the heat even further and cover the pan to encourage the leeks to wilt.  

When the leeks have softened a bit (after about 5 minutes), return the squash to the pan along with half of the herbs.  Season lightly with salt (be careful with the salt—bacon and Gruyère are salty and too much salt will mask the sweetness of the squash).  

Add the stock to the pan and bring to a simmer. The stock should come about 3/4 of the way up the sides of the vegetables—add water if necessary. 

Gently simmer (uncovered and stirring every now and then) until the squash is just tender—about 25 minutes. As the liquid reduces, add water occasionally to maintain a level of liquid that is about 1/4 to 1/3 up the sides of the squash.  When done there should only be a small amount of liquid remaining in the pan. 

While the vegetables simmer, cook the rice using whatever method you prefer (boil, steam, etc.).  For plain rice, I prefer to use a method similar to something Alice Waters calls "the absorption method" in her book The Art of Simple Food:  Place the rice in a heavy bottomed sauce pan (for 1/2 cup a 2-quart size is fine).  Add a cup of water along with a pinch of salt and a drizzle of olive oil or butter (about 1/2 T.).  Place the pan over high heat and bring to a boil.  Allow the rice to boil (undisturbed) rapidly until most of the water has evaporated (if you tilt the pan, you shouldn't see any water) and the surface of the rice is covered with steam holes.  Cover the pan.  If you have an electric stove, transfer the pan to a burner set at the lowest setting.  If you have a gas stove, simply reduce the heat to the lowest setting.  Allow the rice to steam for 12 minutes.  Turn off the heat and let sit (covered) for another 5 minutes.  Uncover and fluff. 

Toss the breadcrumbs with the remaining herbs and a half tablespoon of olive oil.  Set aside.

To build the gratin, combine the rice, vegetables (along with any liquid in the pan) and bacon in a large bowl.  Add the cheese and fold in just to distribute evenly.  Turn the contents of the bowl into an oiled 1 1/4- to 1 1/2-quart gratin or shallow baking dish.  

Spread the prepared breadcrumbs over the top.  If you like, drizzle with more olive oil.  

Bake in a preheated 375° oven until sizzling around the edges and hot through—about 20 to 25 minutes.  If the surface is not golden brown, simply run under the broiler for a few moments.

Serves 4 as a side, 2 as an entrée.

Note: To cut down on prep time, you can sauté the mushrooms and squash in a second pan.  Simply cook the bacon, remove it and then wilt the leeks in the bacon fat.  While the leeks and bacon cook, sauté the squash and then the mushrooms in a bit of olive oil in a separate pan  (preferably non-stick—if you don't have a non-stick pan, deglaze the pan with a bit of water and add this to the braise).  Add the mushrooms & squash to the leeks and proceed with the recipe.

Printable Recipe



As a side with pork and salad greens