Bulgur Pilaf with Corn & Zucchini…with a Vibrant Late Season Tomato Compote

Last month, a friend who has access to an amazing vegetable garden brought me a mountain of beautiful tomatoes…literally hot off the vines.  They were so ripe there was no waiting; the moment to use them was now.  

Of course I wanted to preserve most of them in some way (I have written of many things that can be done to preserve the late summer abundance of tomatoes:  sauce, oven dried, frozen whole, fondue).  But as it happened, I was in the middle of planning my September curbside dinner.  I immediately knew that some of those tomatoes would make their way into a sauce of some kind for that menu.  Because I have to keep costs reasonable for these dinners, a sauce of vine ripened tomatoes—that usually cost upwards of five or six dollars a pound—is just not within reach.  What a great thing to receive a gift from my friend…that I could in turn share with my regular clients.  

I had recently made a dinner for myself of a simple basmati pilaf with sautéed zucchini and sweet corn…topped with an egg…and a few spoonfuls of a concentrated tomato compote/sauce.  The tomato sauce was a last minute thought because at the time I had a small, very ripe tomato sitting on my counter that I had really needed to use.  It was the size with which I would normally make a quick summer tomato sauce for pasta—but I wasn’t really in the mood for pasta.  So instead, I made my usual sauce… and then served it dolloped over the pilaf and egg.  

The result was memorable:  The tangy character of the ripe, late season tomato lit up the other ingredients.  And the meal itself perfectly captured the moment in terms of the available ingredients and this year’s extended season of warm weather (too warm really to start thinking about the traditional foods of autumn).

As I thought about what I wanted to make for my curbside, I remembered that little dinner.  I can’t really give my patrons a cooked ahead fried egg…but I can give them a nicely seared piece of fish that they can then finish in their own ovens.  

The tomato compote I made for the curbside was a cross between  my quick summer tomato sauce and a rich tomato fondue that I occasionally make.  The quick sauce is made with roughly chopped tomatoes (skins and seeds included) and cooked down quickly in lots of olive oil and garlic.  (It is ready in the time it takes to boil pasta!)  The tomato fondue is a rich, more refined, compote of skinned and seeded tomatoes, cooked down in a base of olive oil, garlic and onions that have first been cooked to total softness.  I ended up calling my sauce for the curbside fondue because it was reduced and concentrated.  But I left the seeds in (removing only the skin) and omitted the onions.  The result was thick and rich (perfect for dolloping)…and tangy and sweet (great for enhancing the mild flavors of the rest of the dish).  It is basically the quick sauce without the tomato skin.  I’ve decided to rename it “Late Season Tomato Compote.”  

When making the “compote” for just one or two servings, you can simply make the original quick summer tomato sauce.  The main reason I didn’t make it for the curbside was I discovered that the longer cooking required for larger batches tended to toughen the skins—making them discernible in the final dish.  

I had so many tomatoes that I made extra of the compote for myself.  I froze it in little 2 oz containers (about a quarter cup or one serving)…which I will be able to enjoy all winter long…on pastas and pizzas—or to enhance a soup—or to go with a grain pilaf with a fried egg.  If you are looking for ways to preserve those big boxes of late season tomatoes that might still be coming into your farmers market, you should give this a try.

When I finally settled on my menu, not only did I change out the egg for salmon…I also swapped out rice for bulgur.  I liked the color contrast and the variation (rightly…or wrongly…assuming that people are more likely to make rice for themselves than bulgur).  I also added some crushed fennel seed and dried oregano to the pilaf to further compliment all of the vegetables.  I’m going to post the recipe for the bulgur pilaf.  But you could obviously make a basmati pilaf (or freekeh…or quinoa…) instead.  The pilaf is mostly a vehicle for all of the delicious vegetables. 

I was very happy with the result.  I have made a lot of curbside dinners in the past few years…but I think this was one of my favorites.  It was simple…beautiful…and perfectly “of the moment.”  What a wonderful gift I received from my friend.

Late Summer Tomato Compote

3 to 4 T. olive oil
3 to 4 cloves of garlic, minced
1/8 to 1/4 t. hot pepper flakes (as you prefer)
1 1/4 lb. vine ripened tomatoes, peeled, cored and roughly diced 

Place the oil, along with the garlic and pepper flakes in a large sauté pan and place the pan over moderately high to high heat. When the garlic begins to sizzle enthusiastically and is just on the verge of taking on a bit of color, add the tomatoes (along with all of the juices) to the pan. The tomatoes should immediately begin to simmer rapidly. Allow the tomatoes to cook, shaking the pan back and forth occasionally, stirring at regular intervals and regulating the heat in order to maintain a brisk simmer, until the tomatoes have broken down and the sauce is very thick (a path will remain when you draw a spoon through the tomatoes) and the oil is just beginning to break out of the sauce.  You should have a generous cup.  Remove from the heat. Season to taste with salt.

Bulgur Pilaf with Corn & Zucchini

2 T. olive oil
1 small red onion (4 to 5 oz.), finely diced (you will have about 1 c. diced onion)
1/2 t. kosher salt
1 t. fennel seed, crushed with a mortar & pestle
1 t. dried oregano
1 c. (6 oz.) medium bulgur, rinsed and drained
1 1/4 c. boiling water

2 T. olive oil
10 oz. trimmed zucchini, cut in a 1/3-inch dice
2 cloves garlic, peeled and minced
2 ears of corn, roasted in the husk and kernels cut from the cob to yield 1 3/4 to 2 cups
2 T. minced parsley

Warm 2 T. olive oil in a medium saucepan with a tight fitting lid over moderate heat.  Add the onions along with a pinch of salt and sweat until tender and translucent and beginning to turn golden around the edges.  Add the garlic, fennel & oregano and cook until fragrant—about a minute.  Increase the heat to medium high and add the drained bulgur along with a generous pinch of salt.  Continue to cook for a minute.  Add the water and bring to a boil.  Reduce the heat to low and cook, covered until the bulgur is tender—12 to 15 minutes.  Remove from the heat and let stand (covered) for 5 minutes.  

While the bulgur cooks, sauté the zucchini.  Warm the olive oil in a medium sauté pan set over moderately high heat.  When the pan is hot, add the zucchini and sauté, tossing occasionally until tender and browned in spots.  Add the garlic, toss to distribute.  When fragrant, add the corn and toss to combine.  Heat through.  Season to taste with salt and pepper.

When the bulgur is done, transfer to a large bowl along with the zucchini and corn.  Add the parsley and toss to combine.

Enjoy the pilaf warm or at room temperature.  Serves 4

To serve the compote & pilaf with fish (as I did for the dinner):

Sear the Salmon (or whatever fish you prefer…Halibut would be good, too):  Place a heavy sauté pan that is large enough to hold the fish over medium-high heat.  While the pan is heating, season the fish on both sides with salt & pepper.  Add a thin film of olive oil to the pan.  When the oil is very hot, add the fish, service-side down (if you leave the skin on, this will be the side with the skin…if the fish is skinless, this will be the interior side).  Cook until it is a beautiful golden brown—about 3 minutes, regulating the heat as necessary to prevent smoking but at the same time, maintain an active sizzle. Turn the fish over and continue to cook until barely opaque in the center—another 3 minutes or so (reducing the heat further, as necessary).  Remove from the pan and keep warm.  Mound a quarter of the pilaf in the center of each plate, spreading out a bit to make room for the fish on top.  Transfer the fish to the pilaf.  Drizzle and dollop about a quarter cup of the compote over and around the fish and pilaf.  Enjoy.

Variation:  Substitute a fried or poached egg for the fish.

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Late Summer Zucchini & Corn Galette with Tomato & Browned Butter Breadcrumbs

In the early days of the pandemic I started doing curb side pick up dinners. It was a good option for people who wanted to "eat out", but didn’t want to eat in a restaurant filled with people. The dinners were 3 courses and packaged with instructions for any last minute heating/dressing/etc. I enjoyed the change of pace…as well as the additional work…so have continued to do them occasionally—even though there is no longer the same “need” for them.

Just as with my private dinner menus I’m sure it comes as no surprise that my menus for these dinners always highlight seasonal ingredients. I usually start with an idea for one course and then create the remaining two courses around it. For the recent September dinner I started with the idea of Applesauce cake. It is still warm where I live so I opted for a room temperature roast pork with green bean and potato “salad” for the entrée. 

This meant I didn’t really want to do a true salad for the first course (it seems repetitive to have a salad in 2 of 3 courses…). Since the dessert was cake, a tart or pizza seemed like a good starter.

As I considered my seasonal options, corn and zucchini…and tomato!...came to mind. These things are at the end of their season. I always feel a nostalgic desire to eat lots of the waning fruits of the season—even as I look forward to the new crops coming in. (The “cusp” seasons are always exciting moments in the culinary year.)

I found a couple of interesting savory tarts on line that included these ingredients. And what I ended up making is a bit of a blending of these two…plus my own style of savory galette (with a creamy ricotta base)…and a favorite summer squash gratin. I was struck by the observation from the creator of one of the tarts I found that her tart was “something in between” a quiche and a gratin. I didn’t want to make a quiche, but the “gratin” part appealed to me and that favorite summer squash gratin came to mind as I was drifting off to sleep one night, noodling on how I was going to build my tart.

There are a lot of component parts to this galette. If you just want to make dinner, it will seem a bit fiddly. But it is actually pretty easy to put together once you have the components (all of which can be made ahead except for the salted squash)—making it perfect for entertaining. If you have your own favorite tomato sauce on hand, you can use it as long as it is very thick (cook it down a bit until it no longer weeps and it mounds on a spoon). You will need about 3/4 cup. The one I use here is my favorite summer tomato sauce—nothing more than vibrant, vine ripened tomatoes (skin, seeds and pulp) cooked down with a generous amount of garlic, pepper flakes and olive oil. You could likely omit the ricotta—the thick tomato sauce providing enough of a barrier to keep the crust from becoming soggy—but I like the richness that it adds. (If you were to omit the ricotta, I would probably increase the Gruyère a bit.) The tomato sauce, on the other hand, should not be skipped. Its tartness adds essential balance and interest to the other mild flavors.

The tart made a great first course for my curbside dinner—a wonderful addition to the end-of-summer theme. I enjoyed the leftovers for lunch…and then a light dinner…along with a nice green salad. I’m only sorry that the season for these vegetables is rapidly coming to a close and it will probably be next year before I make this vibrant tart again. Maybe you will find a way to squeeze it in this year.

Late Summer Zucchini & Corn Galette with Tomato & Browned Butter Breadcrumbs

Pâte Brisée (tutorial):

175 g. all purpose flour (about 1 1/3 c.)

1/2 t. salt

132 g. cold butter (about 9 T.)

50 to 66 g. water (about 3 1/2 to 4 1/2 T)

Combine the flour and the salt in a medium-sized bowl. Rub/cut the butter into the flour until the mixture has the appearance of cornmeal and peas. Drizzle 3 1/2 T. ice water over the flour/butter mixture. Using your hands, fluff the mixture until it begins to clump (if you grab a handful and squeeze it will adhere), adding more water if necessary. 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. Form the finished dough into a thick disk. Chill for at least 30 minutes (overnight is even better, if you have time).

To roll out the dough, let it warm up for a moment or two at room temperature. Line a baking sheet (preferably rimless) with parchment paper; set aside. Roll out the dough on a lightly floured surface into a circle that is about 1/8-inch thick and is 14 inches across. Brush off the excess flour. Trim any ragged or uneven edges if you like. Transfer the dough to the prepared sheet. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and chill for at least 30 minutes.

Ricotta Base:

150g whole milk ricotta (drained before weighing if very wet)

2 t. olive oil

2 t. flour

Salt & pepper

In a small bowl, combine the ricotta with the olive oil and flour. Season to taste with salt & pepper. Chill until ready to use (can be made a day or two ahead).

Summer Tomato Sauce:

2 1/2 T. olive oil

2 cloves garlic, minced

Pinch hot pepper flakes

340g. vine ripened tomatoes (preferably red or yellow), cored and cut into a rough dice

Place the oil, along with the garlic and pepper flakes in a wide sauté pan and place the pan over moderately high to high heat. When the garlic begins to sizzle enthusiastically and is just on the verge of taking on a bit of color, add the tomatoes (along with all of the juices) to the pan. The tomatoes should immediately begin to simmer rapidly. Allow the tomatoes to cook, shaking the pan back and forth occasionally, stirring at regular intervals and regulating the heat in order to maintain a brisk simmer, until the tomatoes have broken down and the sauce is thickened and emulsified (a path should remain when you draw a spoon across the pan and the sauce should mound on a spoon). You should have a scant 3/4 cup. Taste for seasoning and remove from the heat. Sauce may be made ahead.

Browned Butter Breadcrumbs:

3/4 c./41g. fresh breadcrumbs

1 1/2 T. butter

Place the bread crumbs in a bowl. In a small sauté pan cook the butter over medium heat for a few minutes, whisking occasionally, until it begins to brown and smells nutty. Pour the browned butter over the breadcrumbs, scraping in all of the browned bits. When cool enough to handle, toss to combine. Set aside.

Vegetable and Cheese Filling:

400g (about 2 large) zucchini, sliced 1/8-inch thick (use a mandolin)

1/ 2 t. kosher salt

41 g. (1/2 c.) finely grated Pecorino

100 g. (a scant cup) grated (medium fine) Gruyère

1 T. minced fresh thyme

2 T. minced parsley

2 T. olive oil

1 1/2 c./225g fresh corn kernels (cut from 1 large or 2 small ears)

Cut the squash into 1/8-inch thick rounds (use a mandolin slicer). Toss the squash slices with 1/2 t. kosher salt and place in a colander set over a plate. Let stand 10 minutes. Spread two layers of paper towels on your work surface and transfer the squash to the towels, shaking off as much of the liquid as possible as you do. Blot with another layer or two of paper towels. (The squash does not need to be spread in perfect single layers—you just want to have it spread out so that you can blot away the majority of the liquid).

Combine the pecorino with the buttered breadcrumbs and set aside.

Build the tart: Spread the ricotta mixture in a circle in the center of the chilled pâte brisée, leaving a 2-inch border of dough. Dollop and spread the cooled tomato sauce over the ricotta. Scatter half of the Gruyère over the tomato sauce.

In a large bowl, combine the squash, half of the pecorino/breadcrumb mixture, the remaining Gruyère, the herbs, olive oil and corn. Taste and correct the seasoning. Arrange this mixture on top of the ricotta/tomato/ Gruyère base on the pastry crust. Use your hands to do this, simply grabbing a handful of the mixture at a time and arranging the mixture in and even layer (your hands work best—rather than just dumping it out—because you can make sure you get a nice mix of corn and zucchini with each handful). Spread the remaining pecorino/breadcrumb mixture over all.

Pull up the edges of the crust and gently flip them over the filling to form a rustic edge. Pleat the dough as necessary, pressing lightly into place.

Bake the tart in a 400° oven on the lowest rack (or in the middle with the sheet pan sitting directly on a preheated baking stone). Bake until the filling is bubbling in one or two spots, the breadcrumbs are golden, and the crust is crisp and golden brown—about 30 to 40 minutes. Slide the tart onto a rack and let rest for 15 minutes (or cool until just tepid) before serving. The tart is also delicious made a day ahead. Slice while cold to get beautiful, clean slices and reheat for 15 minutes in a 350° to 375° oven. Tart serves 6 to 8.

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French Lentil Soup...and the power of taste memory...

Someone recently pointed out that I didn’t have any recipes on my blog that use lentils. This had surprised them. I guess it surprised me too. I have nothing against lentils. I love them when someone serves them to me. But I didn’t grow up eating them…and the truth is I never got into the habit of cooking with them. For some reason I just don’t think of them. Since I enjoy them anytime I do eat them, I will need to make an effort to add them to my rotation. 

There is one recipe that I make occasionally that uses French lentils (Lentils du Puy—prized for their firmer texture and peppery, mineral-y flavor). It is a classic French dish from The Balthazar Cookbook by Keith McNally, Riad Nasr & Lee Hanson): Mustard Crusted Salmon with Lentils. I love this dish. Like so many of the recipes I love, it is a study in deceptive simplicity. If you have good ingredients…and use good technique…the result is greater than the sum of its parts. 

I like this recipe so much that when I decided I wanted to make a lentil soup during our recent early dip into the deep freeze, I used their flavorings in that recipe as my inspiration. In the end, I’m sure it’s not too different from many French lentil soup recipes…bacon, the mirepoix triad of carrot, celery and onion, lots of garlic, fresh thyme and tomatoes. It was warming…hearty, yet a bit refined…and delicious. 

It is great with just a sprinkling of parsley…and maybe a drizzle of olive oil.  But I discovered that some crumbled goat cheese was a nice garnish too—definitely worth adding if you happen to have some on hand. 

There were no tomatoes in the Balthazar recipe from which I took most of my inspiration. I had had a delicious soup recently at the table of a friend that included lentils and tomatoes, so that may have been what put the thought of the tomatoes in mind. There is also the fact that tomatoes are often paired with lentils.  And I'm sure that all of this played a part in my final recipe.  But there is another possibility. 

As I was enjoying my soup I had a flash of a food memory from my childhood: the very first (and possibly only) time I had lentils. My entire family had been invited to dinner at the home of one of my father’s business colleagues. My siblings and I had never been included in an invitation like this before, so my memory of it is fairly clear.  Our hostess served a simple meal of lentil stew, crusty bread and a fruit salad. I remember the stew because it was totally outside of my normal eating habits. Being the picky child that I was, if my mother had served it, I would have begrudgingly limited myself to the one bite we were required to take of something we thought we didn’t like. But since we were out, I was on my best behavior.  And I remember truly enjoying that lentil stew…probably asked my mother to get the recipe (although, I don’t remember her ever making it). I’m certain it was just a simple brown lentil soup…but I remember it included the tang of tomatoes. So now that I think about it, I can’t rule out the possibility that my addition of the tomatoes to my Balthazar inspired soup was a subliminal nod to that long ago first taste. 

French Lentil Soup

3 or 4 slices thick bacon (100g), diced small (this is most easily done if the bacon is frozen) 

3 T. unsalted butter 

1 large or 2 medium onions (12 oz.), diced small (2 c.) 

2 medium carrots (1/3 lb), peeled and diced small (1 c.) 

2 celery stalks (4 oz), trimmed and diced small (3/4 c.) 

3 to 4 cloves garlic, minced 

2 or 3 well-branched sprigs of thyme 

Salt & freshly ground pepper 

1 lb. peeled & chopped tomatoes or a 14.5 oz. can diced tomatoes (see notes) 

1 1/4 c. (250g) French green lentils (Le Puy lentils—see notes), rinsed and drained 

1 quart chicken stock or low-salt broth 

Minced flat leaf parsley, optional 

Olive oil for drizzling, optional 

Goat cheese crumbles, optional 

Place the bacon in a large soup pot set over medium heat. When some of the fat has rendered from the bacon, after about 5 minutes, 

add the butter. When the butter has melted, add the onion, carrot, celery, garlic and thyme along with a good pinch of salt. 

Cover and sweat over low heat until the vegetables are just tender—about 10 to 15 minutes.

Add the tomatoes, lentils and stock and bring to a simmer. 

Partially cover the pan and cook, maintaining a gentle simmer until the lentils are tender and cooked to your liking—anywhere from 30 to 45 minutes.

Transfer 1 1/2 to 2 cups of the soup (mostly solids) to a blender (or the cup of an immersion blender). Purée until smooth and return to the soup. If the soup is too thick add water or stock in small increments to achieve a texture and thickness that you like. Taste and correct the seasoning with salt and freshly ground pepper. Serve hot with a sprinkle of parsley and drizzle of olive oil, if you like. 

Makes about 1 3/4 quarts of soup, serving 5 to 6.

Note:

• I used tomatoes that I froze last summer. If you have never frozen whole summer tomatoes to use during the winter months you should give it a try. I describe the process in this post.
• Any green French lentil will work in this recipe. I use the Le Puy lentils because this is what I keep on hand for the salmon dish. These will hold their texture better and take a bit longer to cook than other green French lentils, so if you don’t use lentils labeled “Le Puy” then begin checking on the tenderness of the lentils after about 20 minutes.

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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. 

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The Pleasure of the Annual Tomato Glut...and a Recipe for Tomato Fondue

It happens every year about this time.   Whether you shop at a Farmers' market or have your own garden, beautiful, ripe tomatoes start piling up on the kitchen counter faster than you can consume them.  I always eat as many of them as I can raw...sprinkled with salt, drizzled with olive oil...sometimes enhanced with a bit of vinegar.  But inevitably there are just too many to eat.  Even though I regularly cook with them too, I almost always have so many that they decay faster than I am able to use them up.  

When it reaches this point of overabundance I begin to consider ways to preserve the harvest.  I almost always try to make tomato sauce for the freezer (in fact, I often purchase extra tomatoes for just this purpose...summer tomato sauce is a wonderful thing to have on hand during the fall and winter months).  And some years I make slow-roasted tomatoes (which turns them into concentrated flavor bombs for pastas, pizzas, pilafs, etc.).

Last week as I was considering the mountain of tomatoes on my counter, I remembered something we used to make way back in the early days of my cooking career at The American Restaurant: a delicious preparation called "Tomato Fondue."  



Contrary to what you might think, there is no cheese involved in this fondue.  This fondue is all about the tomatoes...tomatoes that have been cooked in an abundance of olive oil until the juices and pulp have melted (hence the term "fondue") into a jam-like substance of tangy tomato deliciousness.   There is also a bit of onion and garlic...  and a sprinkling of fresh herbs (thyme, oregano, and/or winter savory).  But not too much of any of these things.  Tomato fondue should be all about the tangy and sweet flavor of summer tomatoes.

Tomato fondue has a myriad of uses.  It can of course be used to finish a soup (stirred in, or served as a drizzle or dolloped garnish)...or to enhance a pasta sauce.  But my favorite way to use it is as a condiment—dolloped onto a piece of baked or sautéed fish

As a topping for pan-seared halibut..with a bulgur pilaf with corn and zucchini....

...mixed with a little more olive oil and drizzled over a grain bowl

The leftover pilaf from the previous photo...topped with an egg...

...extended with stock or water (and/or more oil) and used to dress vegetables.  

Romano beans...dressed with tomato fondue, kalamata olives, toasted pine nuts and parsley....

You could also use it for oeufs en cocotte (just use a small spoonful of the tomato fondue in place of the cooked leeks).  It would also make a delicious instant appetizer—on a crostini smeared with fresh cheese or bean purée, or spooned over a round of baked goat cheese and served with crackers or crisp toasts.  





And it could be used to enhance a spread/dressing of some kind (like mayonnaise, for example).  Once you make it (and taste it!)...and have it on hand...I'm certain it will catch your eye every time you open the refrigerator to gather inspiration for what to make for dinner. It is amazingly versatile.

Since I mentioned preserving the harvest at the beginning of this post, I hope it goes without saying that tomato fondue can be frozen.  The flavor is so concentrated that you can freeze it in small portions (rather than the larger quantities that you might opt for when freezing a less concentrated tomato sauce).  I think ice cube trays would probably be perfect.  Either line the trays with plastic wrap...or purchase trays designated for your tomatoes (the oil in the fondue will color and imbue every plastic surface it touches with its orange-y gold color).

I have to admit though, that I haven't frozen any yet this year.  Part of the beauty of tomato fondue is that it reduces a mountain of tomatoes down to a very manageable...and consumable...amount.  I have made two 1 pound batches so far and have managed to eat it all.  I'm so glad that it popped into my mind after all these years. After having it around for a couple of weeks and finding so many ways to use it, it is on its way to becoming a summer staple in my pantry. 

Tomato Fondue

1 lb. Vine Ripened Tomatoes
1/2 c. finely diced summer onions
1 t. (heaped, if you like) minced garlic
3 to 4 T. olive oil
1 bay leaf
Several sprigs of fresh thyme, oregano and/or winter savory—leaves picked and minced
salt

Halve the tomatoes horizontally (vertically if using Romas).  Holding the tomato halves over a sieve set over a bowl, scoop out the seeds (using your fingers).  Set the de-seeded tomato halves aside for a second while you stir and press the seedy juice around in the sieve (with a rubber spatula) until all the juices have gone through the sieve.  Discard the seeds.  Using a large-holed grater set on a plate or pie pan, grate the tomatoes by holding the cut side of the tomatoes against the grater and grating until just the skin remains in your palm.  Add the grated tomato pulp to the tomato juices.  (See note.)

Warm the oil in a medium sized sauté pan or shallow sauce pan set over moderately low heat and add the onions, along with a pinch of salt.  Cook gently until the onions are soft—about 10 minutes for juicy, summer onions.  Add the garlic and cook another 3 or 4 minutes.  

Add the tomatoes and herbs to the pan 

and bring to a gentle simmer.  Cook, stirring occasionally and regularly (carefully scraping down the edges of the pan as the fondue reduces) until the mixture is thick.  If you draw a spatula through the fondue, a path will remain (see picture at top of post).  You will also be able to mound the fondue on a spoon.  

(This will take about 20 minutes or so.). Taste and season with salt to bring out the brightest tangy flavor.

You will have 2/3 to 3/4 of a cup of tomato fondue.  Store in a Tupperware or covered jar in the refrigerator.

Notes:

• The original recipe called for the tomatoes to be peeled, seeded and cut into a fine dice.  Since the tomato flesh breaks down as it cooks, it seems easiest to me to simply grate the flesh as I have done.  You may of course peel, seed and dice if you like.
• We made the fondue in very large quantities at the restaurant—a batch made with four pounds of tomatoes would have been typical.  You may multiply this into any sized batch you like, just remember to use a wide (as opposed to deep) pan.  A large surface area will encourage the tomatoes to reduce and concentrate more quickly.  Large batches will still take longer, but the fondue will cook better in a wide pan.  When I make this in large batches, I multiply everything but the bay leaf. I find bay to be quite strong and even if I were making a four pound batch would still use just one leaf.

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Bacon, Lettuce, Avocado & Tomato Salad…with Judy Rodgers' Torn Croutons… and Roasted Corn

Last fall…towards the end of tomato season…I made a Bacon, Lettuce, Avocado & Tomato (BLAT) Salad.  It was so good.  I had already shared several salads over the course of the latter part of the summer…and tomato season was winding down…so I decided not to post the recipe.  Then, a couple of weeks ago when tomato season really hit its stride (as in—they are so beautiful and abundant that I buy way too many at the market…), I remembered that salad.  I ate it twice this past week.  I’m sure I will make it a few more times before the end of tomato season.  Now seemed like a good time to share the “recipe.”

The “recipe” is truly simple…little more than a deconstructed BLT with avocado.  It is actually a bit like Panzanella in that there is much more bread than one finds in a typical salad.  I wanted to keep the ratios of the ingredients like what one would find in the classic sandwich.  Besides lots of toasty bread, this translates into loads of bacon and tomato…and just a little bit of lettuce.  The result is sort of like a BLAT sandwich that exploded artfully on your plate…and since eating a good BLT/BLAT sandwich involves dripping juices and a stack of napkins, the salad is frankly much easier to eat. 

I am particularly enamored with the croutons in this salad.  Rather than uniform cubes of crunchy bread, these croutons are randomly sized and present the eater with a variety of textures—from crunchy to chewy...with even a few soft bits.  I have borrowed the method for making them from Judy Rodgers’ famous Roast Chicken Salad.  I don’t think she calls them anything in the recipe, so I’m calling them “Torn Croutons.”  To make them, remove the crusts from a chunk of day-old baguette or peasant bread.  Cut the crust-less bread into largish chunks, brush them all over with olive oil, 

place them on a sheet pan and run them under the broiler.  Watch the bread carefully and turn it as it colors until all the surfaces are by and large a light golden brown.  There will probably be a few charred bits which may be scraped off—or left on, if that’s how you like it.  

Tear the now golden and toasty bread into bite-sized chunks.  You may have some larger pieces…and some “fat crumbs” (to quote Rodgers)…but this will just add more texture and variety to your salad.  A half pound chunk of bread (weighed before removing the crusts) should produce about 4 cups of croutons.

I have never made these ahead, but Rodgers mentions that they may be made a few hours ahead.  (If I made them too far ahead there probably wouldn’t be any left by the time dinner rolled around…they are quite snackable…).   I think they will be delicious anyplace you like to use croutons (salads, soups, pilafs, pastas, etc).  In a salad they are particularly delicious when dressed with some of your vinaigrette—which not only adds flavor, but will soften them slightly. 

One note:  You can control the ratio of crunchy bits to softer/chewier bits by altering the size of the chunks of bread to be broiled.  If the chunks you begin with are large, you will have lots of softer/chewy interior.  If they are smaller, you will have mostly crunch…with just a bit of chew.  For this salad, I like them somewhere in the middle.  (In her chicken salad, Rodgers leaves them larger…and softens them further by adding pan drippings from the roast chicken.)  After you make them a time or two, you will get the hang of it and find how you like them best.

The only addition to my BLAT salad that might seem surprising is the roasted corn.  Corn is—to me at least—an obvious partner for tomatoes…  and bacon…  and avocado….   (If you follow me on Instagram, you will know I eat corn, tomato and avocado salads all summer long.)  I have made this salad without it, but much prefer it with.  Good, fresh, summer corn adds texture, pops of sweetness and moisture…and turns this salad into something out of the ordinary. 

As I said, you don’t really need a recipe for this salad.  In fact, I hope you will just gather your ingredients they way you would if you were making a sandwich:  in quantities to suit your taste.  But since I know many people like to have a recipe for a starting point, I’m including a recipe for the vinaigrette and crouton… as well as estimates of how much of each ingredient I used for each person.  Enjoy!

Bacon, Lettuce, Avocado & Tomato Salad with Sweet Corn

For two salads you will need:

1 medium ear of corn, roasted in the husk

3/4 lb. mixed tomatoes (vine ripes, multi-colored heirlooms, cherry, etc.—anything you like as long as they are deliciously ripe)

Salt & Pepper

1 ripe avocado

A handful (about an ounce) of arugula (or any favorite salad green—tear large leaves into bite-sized pieces)

3 or 4 T. Red wine-shallot vinaigrette

2 to 2 1/2 cups Torn Croutons

6 to 8 slices of bacon, cooked until crisp and each slice broken into 2 or 3 pieces

Cut the corn away from the cob.  You can put as much as you like on each salad, but I think a third cup per person is about right.  Most local corn in my region yields at least a cup of kernels per ear during the height of corn season.  Any corn you don’t use in your salad may be stored in the fridge for several days (for salads, pilafs, etc.).  Place the corn to be used in the salad in a small bowl

Cut the tomatoes:  Halve any cherry tomatoes.  Large tomatoes should be cored and then cut in a variety of shapes—fat slices (half moon or round) and wedges.  Spread the tomatoes on a platter, the cutting board or a sheet pan and season with salt and pepper.

Halve and pit the avocado (but don’t peel).  Season the cut surfaces with salt & pepper

Place the greens in a small bowl (if you want to use fewer bowls, add the arugula to the bowl with the corn).  Season and dress the corn and the arugula with a small amount of vinaigrette (don’t use too much—you can always drizzle more over the salad at the end).

Dress the croutons with some of the vinaigrette (a tablespoon of vinaigrette for a cup of croutons is about right).  Taste and season with salt & pepper if necessary.

Build the salad in layers:

Arrange half of each of the tomatoes, bacon, croutons and corn on a platter or two individual plates.  Take an avocado half and using a spoon, scoop bite-sized portions of avocado, arranging them in and among the ingredients already on the plate(s) as you scoop.

Scatter all but a few leaves of the greens over all (see note).  Repeat the first layer with the remaining ingredients and top with any remaining greens.  Drizzle with more vinaigrette (and/or pass more separately).  Finish the salad with a good grinding of black pepper and serve.

Note:  If you dress the corn and arugula together, you will obviously be adding the corn to the salad in one layer…when you add the majority of the greens.   

Red Wine-Shallot Vinaigrette:

2 T. red wine vinegar

1 medium shallot (about an ounce), peeled and finely diced

1/4 t. kosher salt

Freshly ground black pepper

1/3 c. extra virgin olive oil

Place the vinegar, shallot and salt in a small bowl and let macerate for 5 or 10 minutes.   Add a few grindings of pepper.  Add the olive oil in a thin stream while whisking constantly.   Taste and correct the seasoning.  Set aside.  Store covered, in the refrigerator.  Bring to room temperature and rewhisk before using.  Makes a half cup of vinaigrette

Torn Croutons:

Cut the crusts away from a chunk of day old baguette (or peasant bread...but nothing too grainy or hearty).  Cut the bread into large chunks.  Brush the chunks of bread all over with olive oil and place on a small sheet pan.  Place the pan under the broiler.  Watch carefully, turning the bread as it browns.  Your goal is surfaces that are crisp and as uniformly golden as possible.  When done, scrape away any bits that are too charred for your taste.  Tear the toasted chunks of bread into bite-sized pieces—you will have larger pieces as well as big crumbs.  Set aside until ready to use.

A half pound of bread (weighed prior to trimming away the crusts) should produce about 4 cups of torn croutons.

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