Moroccan Spiced Sweet Potato & Chickpea Stew

This time of year my pantry is usually beginning to fill with spring onions, radishes, young root vegetables, asparagus and young tender greens (chard, kale, spinach…).  It goes without saying that this year is different.  Because I’m pre-ordering from the farmers’ market I don’t have the abundance of local spring ingredients I usually do.  Pre-ordering limits my impulse shopping (a good thing for my wallet…but not so great for the growers…).  Furthermore, I don’t need that much—I’m still cooking a lot from my shelf-stable pantry.  (I’m almost to the bottom of the big bag of onions I bought in March just before the lockdowns started.)

So a couple of days ago when I had to make some flatbread for dinner (I had made some dough with my new starter and its refrigerated shelf life seemed to be nearing an end), a Moroccan spiced chickpea stew is what popped into my head (doesn’t everyone have several cans of chickpeas in their isolation pantries?).  I also had some Swiss chard (from the farmers’ market!) that really needed to be used…and a few sweet potatoes.  All of this sounded like a promising combination.  

As it turns out, this is not an unusual combination.  There are lots of Moroccan- and Indian-spiced stews floating around the blogosphere that include this combination of vegetables.  I’m not really adding a whole lot new to the conversation by posting this.  I’m mostly sharing it because the dish I came up with was delicious and I want to make it again.

My stew is different from many that I saw in one way:  Most of the stews I saw had a lot of tomato.  Mine does not.  I have big cans of tomatoes that I could have used, but I didn’t want a stew that felt like it was all about the tomatoes.  Canned tomatoes (especially when packed in puree) can be very assertive.  Sometimes I feel like recipes call for a whole can just because it was convenient to use the whole can…not because the food needed it.  For my stew I just wanted the tomato to be a background flavor—something that served to thicken…and add a little acidity.  I routinely freeze canned Italian plum tomatoes in quarter can/200 gram portions…just so I can use exactly the amount I want (and no more).  A cup of tomatoes added exactly the elements I was looking for…without making me feel like I was eating a bowl of tomato sauce.

When I started making the stew I decided to roast the sweet potatoes before adding them.  This ends up saving time (the sweet potatoes roast while you cook the onions), but that’s not the reason I chose to do it that way.  Sweet potatoes have a tendency to fall apart when cooked in liquid.  The roasting process seals the exterior (which helps them hold their shape).  Because they are fully cooked they can be added to the liquid right before serving (giving them no time to absorb liquid and disintegrate in the simmering broth).  On subsequent days, as I ate the leftovers, some of the sweet potatoes began to fall apart…but for leftovers, this is not the end of the world.  And the stew still tastes delicious.

I served the stew the first night with the aforementioned flatbreads, a spoonful of thick yogurt and a favorite cinnamon-scented couscous with golden raisins.  It was delicious.  On subsequent days (when I was eating it for lunch) I simply crumbled some salty Feta over the stew.  This too was delicious.   Since the weather is warming up…and my storage pantry is dwindling…this stew might not appear on my table again for a while.  But I will be certain to put it into regular rotation when the weather begins to cool off again in the fall.

Moroccan Spiced Sweet Potato & Chickpea Stew

1 t. paprika

3/4 t. cumin

3/4 t. coriander

1/2 t. ginger

1/2 t. turmeric

1/4 t. cinnamon

Pinch cayenne (or more to taste)

1 lb. sweet potatoes, peeled, quartered lengthwise and cut crosswise into generous 1/2-inch thick slices

Olive oil

1 small onion (5 to 6 oz.), minced

2 fat cloves garlic, sliced

A scant cup (1/4 of a can/200g.) canned Italian Plum Tomatoes, crushed with your hands

2 c. chicken stock (or vegetable stock would be fine too)

1 15.5-oz can chickpeas/garbanzo beans, drained and rinsed

1 large bunch Swiss chard, stems removed, leaves cut crosswise in rough 1-inch ribbons and rinsed in several changes of water

Roughly chopped fresh Italian Parsley or Cilantro

Thick yogurt, Labneh, or crumbled Feta

Warm flatbreads (optional)

Couscous (optional)

Combine the spices in a small bowl and set aside.

Toss the sweet potatoes with just enough olive oil to coat.  Season the potatoes with salt and pepper and a heaped teaspoon of the spice mixture and toss to coat.  Spread the sweet potatoes on a rimmed baking sheet and place in a 400° oven.  Roast the sweet potatoes, turning them over with a pancake turner once about 2/3 way through the cooking, until they are tender and golden—about 40 minutes.

Meanwhile, warm a tablespoon or so of olive oil in a shallow, wide sauce pan set over moderate heat.  Add the onions along with a pinch of salt and cook until tender and just beginning to turn golden.  Add the garlic and cook a few minutes more.  Add the rest of the spice mixture and cook briefly (a minute or two) until fragrant and toasted. 

Add the tomatoes and simmer until thickened (about 5 minutes).  Add the stock along with the chickpeas and bring to a simmer.  Add the chard and cook until just tender.  Taste and correct the seasoning.  Gently fold in the roasted sweet potatoes and heat through. 

Serve with a large spoonful of couscous and a dollop of yogurt (or crumbled Feta).  Scatter the parsley over.  Serve with warm flatbreads on the side, if you like.

Serves 4 if serving couscous, 3 if not.

  

Cinnamon-Scented Couscous with Golden Raisins

1 cup couscous

1/2 t. salt

2 T. butter

1/2 c. golden raisins

1 1/4 c. water

1/4 t. cinnamon

 Place the couscous in a bowl with the salt, butter and raisins.  Bring the water to a boil and pour over the couscous.  Jiggle the bowl to make sure the water has penetrated all the couscous.  Cover tightly with plastic wrap and let stand for 10 minutes (or however long the package says).  Uncover, add the cinnamon and fluff with a fork.  Taste and correct the seasoning.  Serves 4.

(Couscous adapted from One Good Dish by David Tanis)

Printable Version

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

Baked Rigatoni alla Norma (with Roasted Red Peppers…)

We had an early hard freeze this year.  In most years I can count on being able to get tomatoes, eggplant, peppers, zucchini and other late season vegetables until the end of October…and sometimes even into the first few days of November.  But this year, a freeze early in the month put an end to the growing season for these crops.  So a couple of weeks ago when growers brought the last of these favorites into the market, I bought all that I thought I could reasonably use up in the foreseeable future. 

Saturday I decided that their moment was truly over.  I had one large eggplant, a couple of poblanos and two large red bell peppers left.  I roasted all the peppers.  I packaged the poblanos and stuck them in the freezer.  The roasted bells that remained and the eggplant seemed like they had great potential for saucing some pasta for dinner that night.    

I have been thinking about Pasta alla Norma for a while now.   For those unfamiliar with this classic Sicilian pasta—it is a simple, but intensely flavored, pasta sauce of fried eggplant in tomato sauce.  It is typically seasoned with basil and finished with ricotta salata. I have been thinking about it because it seems like recipes for it have been crossing my path with some regularity in recent weeks.  Joshua McFadden has a sausage enhanced variation in his Six Seasons (which is a recent addition to my cookbook library.)   There have been others, but the one in the October issue of Bon Appétit—a baked riff on alla Norma, served burnished and bubbling in a cast iron skillet—looked particularly beguiling.

So, I decided to take advantage of the contents of my pantry and make my own variation.  I followed Bon Appétit’s lead and baked the sauced pasta in the same cast iron I used to fry the eggplant.  Since I seem to recall seeing several recipes that included capers, I decided to add some of those.  And if Joshua McFadden can add sausage to the classic, then I can certainly add some roasted red peppers.  My fresh basil succumbed to a fungus a while back (and would have died during our recent hard freeze, in any case), so I added a shower of dried oregano.  And since I love baked pastas filled with pockets of fresh ricotta, I substituted fresh ricotta for the salted and drained version.

In ordinary years I would have made my tomato sauce with fresh tomatoes from the market, but I used up the last ones in a sauce of some kind over a week ago (and didn’t get around to freezing any this year…).  Fortunately, I had just this week stocked my pantry with canned San Marzano style tomatoes.  So I used a can of those to make a basic sauce.  If you have a favorite sauce you like to make, you should feel free to use it—you will need 2 cups. 

Before I finish, I want to comment about my method for the eggplant.  In general I am not a fan of pre-salting eggplant.  Pre-salting is used as a way to draw out the juices from the eggplant that tend to become bitter as the eggplant sits in storage.  Since I mostly use fresh, peak season eggplant, I usually don’t find it necessary to salt it ahead.  But for the eggplant I wanted to use in my pasta—that had been hanging out in my produce bin for at least two weeks—I decided salting ahead would be a good idea.  Since pre-salting has the additional benefit of making the eggplant flesh less prone to absorbing oil, I was able to use a bit less oil for the frying.  If you use recently harvested eggplant that doesn’t need pre-salting, you might need to add a touch more oil during the frying process. 

I honestly had no intention of posting this recipe…I really just wanted to be a good steward of the produce so carefully grown by our local growers.  But it turned out to be fantastic—one of those baked pastas that you have to force yourself to remove from the table so you won’t continue to nibble away at it until you’ve eaten way more than your fill.  I just had to share it.  Not only was it delicious right out of the oven, it reheated beautifully to make a very satisfying lunch the next day (with a fresh drizzle of oil…and a sprinkling of more pecorino or parmesan).  Sadly—since I’m all out of peppers and eggplant—I won’t be able to make it again this year.  But perhaps you still have some peppers and eggplant in your pantry…in which case, you really should make this.  As for me, when the season for eggplant and peppers arrives again…this pasta bake will be at the top of my list.    

Baked Rigatoni alla Norma

1 large globe eggplant (about 500 to 550 g.)

Kosher salt

2 large red bell peppers (about 400 to 450 g.)

6 T. olive oil, divided

4 to 5 cloves garlic, peeled and minced

1/4 t. hot pepper flakes (more or less, to taste)

2 t. dried oregano

2 T. capers, drained and rinsed

3/4 lb. rigatoni (or other short sturdy pasta)

200 g. whole milk ricotta

2 oz. (2/3 c.) finely grated Parmesan or Pecorino…or a mix of the two

Preheat the broiler to high.

Top and tail the eggplant.  Slice the eggplant cross-wise into 1/2-inch thick rounds.  Cut the rounds in half.  Cut the halves into 1/2-inch wide sticks.  In a large bowl, toss the eggplant with a slightly mounded teaspoon of kosher salt.  Transfer the eggplant to a colander and let drain for a half hour. 

While the eggplant drains, roast the peppers.  Rub the peppers with a thin film of oil and place on a small baking sheet.  Run the peppers under the broiler, turning them as they char until they are charred and blistered all over.  Remove from under the broiler and set aside to cool.  Place the rack in the middle of the oven and preheat the oven to 375°. 

When cool enough to handle, peel and seed the peppers (working over a sieve set over a bowl so that you can capture any juices released by the peppers).  Discard the skin and seeds and cut the flesh of the peppers into 1/2-inch wide strips.  Cut the strips in half so that the pepper strips will be similar in length to the eggplant pieces.  Add the pepper strips to any pepper juicers and set aside

Meanwhile, make the tomato sauce.  Place a medium sauté over moderate heat.  Add a quarter cup of olive oil to the pan along with the garlic and pepper flakes.  Cook until the garlic is sizzling and just beginning to acquire a faint golden tinge.  Add the tomatoes (that have been pulsed in the food processor or run through a food mill fitted with the largest disc).  Bring to a simmer.  Add the oregano.  Simmer until the sauce is thickened and reduced to 2 cups.  This will take about 20 minutes.  Taste and correct the seasoning.

When the eggplant has been sitting for half an hour, quickly rinse under a spray of running water.  Shake the colander to get rid of the excess water and transfer the eggplant to a double thickness of kitchen towels.  Place another double thickness of kitchen towels over the eggplant and press and scrunch to absorb the water and dry off the eggplant.

Place a large cast iron skillet over medium high to high heat.  Add 2 T. of olive oil.  When the olive oil is shimmering, add the eggplant, spreading it out into a snug single layer.  Cook, turning the eggplant pieces occasionally and regulating the heat to prevent scorching (while maintaining an active sizzle) until the eggplant is golden and tender to the tip of a knife.  This will take about 20 to 30 minutes (you will probably need to reduce the heat to medium after about 10 minutes of cooking).  When the eggplant is tender, add the tomato sauce, capers, and the peppers along with their liquid to the pan.  Bring to a simmer before reducing the heat to the lowest setting to keep the sauce warm and allow the flavors to blend while you cook the pasta.

Bring a large pot of salted water to the boil.  Add the rigatoni and cook for five minutes. It will still be quite al dente.  Drain, reserving a small amount of the pasta water.  Transfer the pasta to a large bowl—or return it to the pot.  Add the sauce to the bowl/pot (scraping the skillet well with a heatproof rubber spatula) and fold the sauce and pasta together.  If the pasta seems dry, add a splash of pasta water.  (I didn’t find this necessary, but it is conceivable that you might if your tomato sauce is very thick.)  Transfer half of the pasta and sauce back to the cast iron skillet and dollop evenly with half of the ricotta.  

Scatter half of the Parmesan/Pecorino over all.  

Repeat this layering with the remaining pasta and sauce, ricotta and Parmesan/Pecorino. 

Place the skillet in a preheated 375° oven and bake until the ricotta is tinged with golden brown—about 25 to 30 minutes.  Serves 4 to 6.

Notes:

• My large cast iron skillet measures 11 1/4-inches across the top (it is slightly flared, so it would have a slightly smaller diameter at the bottom).  It holds 3 quarts.  If you don’t have a cast iron skillet that is about this size, you can of course use any heavy oven proof skillet that has the same capacity.  You can also mix up the pasta and sauce and then layer it into an oiled 3-quart casserole (13- by 9-inch or equivalent).  Bake as directed in the recipe.
• You can make the roasted red peppers and tomato sauce ahead.  In a pinch you could use a good quality prepared tomato sauce.  You can also use your favorite homemade sauce.  You will need 2 cups.  I have never found a processed/jarred roasted pepper that I thought was worth eating.

Printable Version

Dandelion Greens... In a Gratin with White Beans, Tomatoes & Garlic Sausage

All summer long I have noticed that one of the growers at my farmers' market has had dandelion greens for sale at their stall.  I have intended several times to grab a bunch, but for some reason I never did.  But a couple of weeks ago, I finally remembered to take a minute to ask about them. 

The variety they are growing is a red ribbed Italian heirloom—a member of the chicory family.  They told me that like other members of this family, the dandelion greens can be quite bitter and they have found that they are best when cooked.  Since I love some of the other chicories (endive, frisée and escarole), I bought a bunch.  When treated properly, the bitter edge of these lettuces and greens can be delicious and interesting.  It's just a matter of combining them with things that will balance and compliment the bitterness.  Judicious use of acidity (tomato, citrus, vinegar, etc.), salt (cured meats, anchovy, olives, etc.) and fat (fatty meats, olive oil, etc.) can turn something that is one dimensionally bitter into something that has delicious complexity and flavor. 

The dandelion greens that I purchased—with their ruby colored ribs—reminded me of chard and beet greens...both of which can also be slightly bitter (although not as bitter as chicory).  In the fall and winter I love pairing these kinds of greens with bland starchy things...  Things like polenta, potatoes and white beans.

Considering all this, I decided to use my dandelion greens in a French-style shell bean gratin.  Beans and greens are one of my favorite food combinations.  Whether combined in a soup...or the gratin...the greens that are used for a preparation like this are given ample cooking time to sort of "give up" their bitterness.

When I have prepared gratins like this in the past, I have occasionally included some optional tomato.  Their acidity serves to brighten the blandness of the beans and can be a nice addition.  In the case of my gratin with the dandelion greens, the acidity of the tomato seemed like an essential.

Finally, I added some salty, fatty, garlic sausages to the mix.  Not only did they provide a perfect foil for the dandelion greens, they turned what I have always considered a side dish into a satisfying entrée.   I'm certain you could omit the sausage...but since this makes a fantastic one dish meal when you include it, I'm not sure you would want to. 

One final observation about this gratin:  As you look at the image of the gratin before it goes into the oven and compare it to the image of the finished, baked gratin, you will be struck with how beautiful the unbaked one is.  You might be tempted when you make it to just serve it before baking it.  After all, all of the ingredients are cooked, so why not serve the more beautiful version?  And while I know the unbaked version would be good, it will lack the delicious intermingling of flavors that happens during the baking process.  Just like a good stew or braise that tastes even better after it has had a day to sit, so the baking process of the gratin produces a richness of flavor that can't be matched in the unbaked version.  Besides, making this simple medley of beans, greens, tomatoes and sausage into a gratin allows you to work ahead—something that is a huge bonus for anyone who cooks.  

I couldn't believe how delicious and flavorful my gratin was.  I don't know if it was the addition of the dandelion greens...or simply the combination of a few perfect flavor partners, but I will definitely be making it again.  And I will certainly be making a point in the future to find more ways to serve dandelion greens at my table. 

Gratin of White Beans with Dandelion Greens & Garlic Sausage

1 cup Great Northern beans, soaked over-night

6 T. Olive Oil, divided

1 well-branched sprig of thyme

1/2 medium onion (red or yellow), finely diced

2 to 3 cloves garlic, peeled and minced

1/2 T. minced Thyme

1/2 c. diced tomatoes (can use canned plum or a 6 oz. vine ripe, peeled, seeded neatly diced)

1 bunch of Dandelion greens, stems cut off where the leaves start (discard the stems—you should have a scant 2 oz. trimmed greens), leaves and remaining tender ribs cut cross-wise into 1/2-inch wide ribbons and thoroughly rinsed

6 to 8 oz. garlic sausage, browned and sliced into fat chunks on a slight diagonal

1/2 to 3/4 cup toasted breadcrumbs (see below)

Drain and rinse the beans.  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 a sprig of thyme.  Cook the beans at a gentle simmer, stirring occasionally, until the beans are tender.  Or, place the soaked, drained beans in a shallow gratin, drizzle with the olive oil and add a sprig of 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.  Whether you cook the beans on the stove top or in the oven, they will take about an hour and 15 minutes to cook.  Add salt to taste when the beans are half cooked.  Beans may be cooked ahead.  Cool the beans in their cooking liquid.

To prepare the gratin, warm 2 T. of olive oil in a wide sauté pan.  Add the onion, minced thyme and some salt.  Gently sweat the onions until they are tender and translucent (about 10 minutes).  Add the garlic and continue to cook until fragrant.  Add the tomatoes and cook for 5 minutes.  Add the greens along with a ladleful of the bean cooking liquid and cook until the greens are wilted and tender. Taste and salt as necessary.

Drain the beans and save the cooking liquid.  Add the beans to the onion mixture and toss to distribute all of the ingredients evenly.  Heat through.  Transfer to a 1 1/2 to 2 quart gratin (or other shallow baking dish).  If using, tuck the sausages into the beans so that they are level with the surface.  Ladle over enough bean liquid to almost cover.  Drizzle the remaining 2 T. of olive oil over the gratin.  (You may prepare the gratin to this point up to a day in advance.  Refrigerate.  Bring to room temperature before continuing.)  Cover the top of the gratin with the toasted breadcrumbs.  Bake the gratin in a 350° oven until bubbling and golden brown on top (about 45 minutes).  Check the gratin occasionally while it bakes.  If it appears to be drying out too much, add more bean liquid.  If not browned to your liking when it is bubbling and hot through, briefly run under the broiler until the crumbs are tinged with golden brown.  Serves 2 to 3 

Notes & Variations:

• Use a precooked sausage such as Kielbasa, Linguiça or Aidells Roasted Garlic & Gruyère Chicken Sausage (my favorite) 
• To make a simple side dish of beans and greens, simply omit the sausage. Without the sausage, the gratin will serve 4 to 6 as a side dish. 
• You may use any kind of white bean that you prefer...Cannellini, Flageolet, etc. Just be aware that not all varieties will cook in the same amount of time as the Great Northerns. 
• You may use greens other than dandelions. A small bunch (or half a bunch, if you prefer) of chard or kale (any kind) will work. If you use a whole bunch, you will have about twice as much trimmed weight as with the dandelions. For the both chard and kale, remove all of the ribs/stems. The chard may be added exactly as the dandelions. The kale should be blanched since it takes much longer to cook. To blanch it, drop the clean, trimmed and sliced kale in boiling, salted water and cook until tender. Drain and spread on a baking sheet to cool. Add to the onion and tomatoes and heat through. 
• To make toasted breadcrumbs, use the food processor to process sliced/torn "day-old" bread (crusts removed if they are very hard) until bread is in uniform soft crumbs. Spread crumbs on a rimmed cookie sheet and “toast” in a 350 degree oven until golden brown and dry, stirring occasionally (about 10 minutes). Drizzle crumbs with olive oil and toss to combine. Crumbs can be used immediately or cooled and stored airtight at room temperature for a week or so...or frozen for longer.
• Recipe is easily doubled. Use a 3 quart gratin/shallow baking dish. 

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Soup for a Cool Autumn Day—Yellow Split Pea with Autumn Squash & Greens

A couple of posts back I wrote about the special foods that can be made during this curious bend in the year when late summer and early autumn produce occupy the same stalls at the farmers' market.  Before that moment is over, I wanted to squeeze in one more post—a simple and delicious soup made with the greens and squashes of autumn...and the tomatoes of summer.

The recipe is from a favorite little cookbook called Fresh from the Farmers' Market (by Janet Fletcher).  For being so small, it is a surprising source of inspiration.  I use it all the time.  Sometimes I use the recipes as a starting point...and other times I follow a recipe exactly.  This soup falls into the latter category.  It is perfect, just as is.

One of the things I love about this soup is it offers the substance and cozy-ness of a bean soup, without the length of time needed to cook a pot of beans.  It is perfect for that time of year when one day it's hot...and the next morning you wake up to gray skies and a chilly drizzle.  The split peas only take about an hour to cook.  No planning for an overnight or quick soak is needed.   

Most importantly, it is delicious.  The sweet split peas and squash contrast nicely with the salty pancetta, bitter greens and tangy tomatoes.  Even if the beautiful golden color didn't lift your spirits, the lively flavors would.  Add a wedge of cheese...and a loaf of crusty bread...and you have a perfect early autumn meal.  

Yellow Split Pea Soup with Autumn Squash & Greens

2 T. olive oil

3 oz. pancetta, minced

1 large onion (10 to 12 oz.), minced

4 cloves garlic, minced

2 c. dried yellow split peas (14 oz.), picked over for stones and debris

1 sprig rosemary, 4 inches long

4 c. chicken stock or low-salt canned broth

4 c. water

Salt & pepper

2/3 lb. butternut, kabocha or other hard-shelled, orange-fleshed squash—peeled, seeded and cut into a 1/3-inch dice (to make 2 cups)

1/2 lb. tomatoes, peeled, seeded and neatly diced (1/3-inch)

1 bunch kale or chard (1/3 lb.), ribs removed and cut cross-wise in a 1/4-inch chiffonade

Olive oil for drizzling

Warm the olive oil in a large soup pot over moderate heat.  Add the pancetta and cook until most of the fat is rendered and it is beginning to crisp—2 to 3 minutes.  Add the onion and garlic and a pinch of salt and sweat until soft and sweet—about 10 minutes (reduce the heat if the onion begins to color).  Add the split peas, rosemary, stock and water.  Bring to a simmer, cover and regulate the heat to maintain a gentle simmer.  Cook until the peas are completely soft—45 minutes to an hour.  Taste occasionally and remove the rosemary sprig when the rosemary flavor is strong enough (it should be subtle).

Season the soup with salt and pepper to taste.  Stir in the squash, tomatoes and greens.  Cover and continue to cook at a simmer until the squash and greens are tender—about 20 minutes.  If the soup is thick, thin with broth or water.  Taste and correct the seasoning.  Serve with a drizzle of olive oil on each bowl, if you like.

Makes 2 quarts, serving 6.

(Recipe from Fresh from the Farmers' Market, Janet Fletcher)

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