Golden Beet & Pear Soup

Whenever someone hires me to prepare a meal, the first thing I do is ask them about their food preferences.  Of course I want to make sure that I know about allergies and food dislikes…but mostly I’m interested in finding out what they really love to eat…or what they are in the mood for right now—basically what will make the meal special for them.  Most of the time people request a certain protein for the entrée…or a seasonal ingredient that they would love to have somewhere in the menu.  Occasionally someone will request a particular classic dish.  But most of the time the requests are general in nature.  Whether general or specific, I use their preferences to design a few menus (that sound delicious to me) that they can then choose from.

Recently as I was getting ready to prepare a special lunch for two women who have been coming to my classes since the very first class I taught (almost 20 years ago!), I was surprised to get a very specific request in response to my query:  Golden Beet & Pear Soup.  I had never thought of making a golden beet soup (a great idea because you get the delicious beet flavor without the shocking color of a magenta soup)…much less combining it with pear.  But beet and pear are a classic salad combination…and I knew the flavors would work well together.  So I included a golden beet and pear soup in my proposal.  I was not surprised when they chose it for their first course.

Almost all of my puréed soups follow the same formula:  cook some aromatic vegetables (always some onion/leek/shallot…often garlic, carrot and/or celery…occasionally fennel or peppers) in a fat of some kind (butter, olive oil…sometimes bacon fat) in order to infuse the fat with the flavor of these vegetables.  This step gives depth and roundness of flavor to the finished soup.  (You should never skip it.)  You can add spices and herbs with the aromatic vegetables if you like.  Then, add the main vegetable(s)—either in their raw form or already cooked (roasted, for example)—along with some stock or water.  All of this is then simmered together to soften the vegetables (if they were raw) and blend the flavors.  You can also add herbs and other flavors towards the end of cooking if you would like their flavor to be more prominent (rather than the background flavor of those added at the beginning).  Finally, purée and pass the soup through a sieve (to give the most velvety texture) and finish with cream if you like. That’s all there is to it.

Most of the time the main vegetable will provide all the thickening that you need for a puréed soup (they don’t need to be super thick).  Although occasionally you will find recipes that incorporate potato with the main vegetable since the potato will add thickness and body.  Frequently I will add a little rice to cook with the vegetables.  This provides a small amount of starch for thickening, but mostly I like it because it seems to help emulsify the liquids and solids together (adding to that aforementioned velvety texture).

Because I thought the beet and pear would make a subtle soup, I was careful not to get carried away with my additions.  I didn’t add any carrot or celery, which could easily have overwhelmed.  To the onion-shallot-garlic base, I added a little coriander (to accentuate the sweetness of the beets and pear) and thyme (which I love with pear and apples in savory preparations).  I also added some ginger, which I thought would light up both main flavors (it did!).  I could have added it at the beginning with the aromatic vegetables, but in this case I felt this would soften the flavor too much.  Instead I opted to add it towards the end.

It is always a good idea to finish a puréed soup with a nice garnish of some kind.  This will provide complimentary flavor…or a great textural contrast.  It also adds to the beauty of the final dish.  Something as simple as a drizzle of olive oil…or lightly frothed cream…or crème fraiche…and a sprinkling of herbs (maybe parsley or chives) is sufficient.  But all kinds of things are possible:  seasoned oils, bits of cheese, seeds, nuts, a complimentary or contrasting vegetable purée, pesto, croutons or garlic/cheese toasts.

For this soup I added a drizzle of olive oil and some crumbled blue cheese and minced toasted walnuts—which complimented both the beets and the pears…as well as each other.  It seemed like an obvious finish to me.

I was astonished by this soup.  It is subtle…and suave…tasting of beets, with a fragrant, slightly sweet finish from the pear.  A truly special and elegant soup.  I wouldn't have thought of if it hadn't been suggested to me.  It will now have a permanent place in my repertoire.  I hope that you will give it a try.  I know that I will remember my friends…and their special lunch…every time I make it.

Golden Beet & Pear Soup

1 1/2 T. olive oil
1 large onion (about 1/2 lb.), thinly sliced
1 shallot (1 oz.), thinly sliced
1 fat clove of garlic, sliced
1/2 t. coriander seed
1/2 T. picked thyme
1 T. unsalted butter
1 lb. gold beets, peeled, halved if small, quartered if large, and sliced a scant 1/4-inch thick
1/2 T. Arborio rice
1 large firm, but ripe, pear (about 1/2 lb.)
3 c. Chicken stock, plus more as needed for consistency
1 T. minced fresh ginger (or more to taste)
1/4 c. heavy cream
Freshly squeezed lemon juice, if needed
Salt & Pepper
Garnish of your choice:  drizzle of olive oil, spoonful of crème fraiche, crumbled blue cheese (something like a Danish Blue or an aged Gorgonzola), minced toasted walnuts, etc.

In a large saucepan, heat the olive oil over medium heat.  Add the onion, shallot, garlic, coriander and thyme, along with a generous pinch of salt.  Cover and gently sweat until the onions are soft—about 15 minutes.  Add the butter and melt.  Add the beets and cook for 5 to 10 minutes—until they are beginning to soften.  Add the rice and cook another 2 or 3 minutes.  Add the pear and cook for a minute or two.  Add the stock and bring to a simmer.  Cover and cook until the beets are beginning to be tender—about 40 minutes, add the ginger and continue to cook until the beets are tender—about 20 minutes more. (It will seem like the beets are taking forever to cook.  But don’t worry…at right about the one hour mark the will go from being a bit crisp to tender.)  Purée the soup and pass through a fine meshed strainer.

Return the soup to the pot and add the cream.  Add water or more stock if the soup is too thick for your liking.  Heat through.  Remove from the heat.  Taste and correct the seasoning with salt & pepper.  If the soup tastes flat or out of balance, add a small squeeze of lemon. The effect of the lemon should be to make the sweet flavors in the soup pop.  You won’t need much…maybe a teaspoon.  If you add too much, the soup will become tangy (which is not the goal).  You may also add more freshly grated ginger if you like—but be careful, the flavors of the soup are subtle and too much ginger will overwhelm the beet and pear.  Serve with a spoonful of crème fraiche, or a drizzle of olive oil, blue cheese crumbles and minced toasted walnuts.

Makes 5 cups or four servings (recipe is easily multiplied for more)

Printable Version

Fettuccine with Leeks, Walnuts & Cream

I love pasta “sauces” that showcase one main vegetable. A quick scan of pastas I’ve posted over the years will bear this out:  peppers, broccoli, mushrooms, zucchini, cauliflower, Brussels sprouts, corn, peas, winter squash, Swiss chard, tomatoes … although… maybe tomatoes don’t count….   Anyway, I obviously can’t get enough of these kinds of pastas.  They are a great way for someone in a small household to use up vegetables…or for the cook in any sized household to take advantage of seasonal abundance.  They are also usually fairly straightforward in their preparation…which means they can make for a quick dinner.  Furthermore, from a cook’s perspective they are instructive in that you can learn what spices, herbs, etc set off that one vegetable to advantage—making these pastas a great way to get to really know a vegetable and at the same time train your palate.    

Recently I was reminded of a “single ingredient” pasta I hadn’t made in a while when I found myself with several leeks in my pantry that had been intended for an event that ultimately didn’t happen.  (A lot of my eating this past year had been dictated by having to find ways to use ingredients that were purchased for an event that was canceled due to the pandemic.)  I could have used the leeks for an overdue “leek weekend” (à la French Women Don’t Get Fat)…but I didn’t really have enough for a whole weekend of dining (or to be more precise, not dining….). So I settled on other uses:  in a tart…a soup…and a pasta.  I was able to spread my leek fest out since they—like most winter vegetables—store pretty well.

The pasta I made is from a book by Janet Fletcher called Four Seasons Pasta.  If you have never run across this book…and you love pasta…you should check it out.  The book is organized by the seasons and is filled with recipes featuring authentic Italian sauces that aren’t necessarily familiar to American audiences.  The recipes work well…and are delicious.  And if you are interested in learning how to make your own pasta, there’s a good section on that too.

To make the leek sauce, leeks are softened in butter…reduced with a bit of cream…and finished with minced toasted walnuts and parsley.  Like other members of the onion family, leeks become sweet with prolonged cooking.  This cooking also gives them a silky texture.  The cream enhances both the sweetness and silkiness.  The slightly bitter toasted walnuts provide a nice flavor counterpoint and interesting texture.  Once the leeks are cleaned (the most difficult part of the recipe) the sauce comes together quickly and easily, making this a simple, elegant…and slightly different…winter weeknight meal. 

 Fettuccine with Leeks, Walnuts & Cream 

4 T. unsalted butter
5 or 6 leeks—white and pale green parts only—halved lengthwise, sliced thinly crosswise and well rinsed (5 to 6 cups sliced leeks)
Salt & Pepper, to taste
3/4 c. chicken stock
1 c. heavy cream
1 lb. fettuccine
2 T. minced flat leaf parsley
1/2 c. walnuts, plus more for garnish—toasted and chopped medium fine

Melt the butter in a large sauté pan over medium low heat.  Add the leeks and season lightly with salt.  Stir to coat with the butter.  Cover and cook gently until the leeks are tender, about 15 to 20 minutes—reducing the heat if necessary.  There should be a few tablespoons of flavorful liquid in the pan when they are done.  Add the stock and cream to the leeks and bring to a simmer.  Cook briefly, until the sauce is just slightly thickened.  Remove from the heat and keep warm.

While the leeks cook, bring 6 quarts of water to the boil in a large stock/pasta pot.  Add 2-3 Tablespoons of salt.  Add the pasta and cook until al dente.  Drain, reserving some of the pasta cooking liquid.

Add the parsley, walnuts and a generous amount of pepper to the leeks.  Add the pasta and toss to coat—adding some of the reserved pasta water if it seems dry.  Taste and correct the seasoning.  Serve, garnished with more walnuts if desired.  Serves 4 to 6.

Variations:

• Add a clove or two of minced garlic and/or some minced fresh thyme to the leeks while they cook.
• Stir in a few tablespoons of mascarpone to the finished sauce.
• Garnish the pasta with crumbled goat cheese or blue cheese.

(Recipe from Four Seasons Pasta, by Janet Fletcher)

Printable Version

Kale Salad…it’s all about the timing

For the past twenty years my work as a private chef has allowed me the luxury of cooking food and serving it right away (as opposed to catering work where one prepares food for transport and reheat).  But my new curbside pickup dinners have put me in the position of cooking food more like a caterer.  This food has to withstand packaging, transport, and reheating/finishing out of my sight.  I find this (particularly the “out of my sight” part) a bit stressful…but in the grand scheme of stressors inherent in our pandemic world, this is minor. For me, many of the pitfalls of this kind of cooking can be avoided—or at least minimized—with careful menu planning.

As I have navigated designing menus for these dinners, one of the difficulties has been salads.  I love salad—of all kinds.  Anytime I prepare a multi course meal I want to include salad.  Not only do they add something fresh and raw, they are a great source of textural and flavor counterpoint to the richer foods usually included in the entrée and/or the dessert.  Unfortunately, once lettuces have been dressed they have to be eaten straight away…making a dressed lettuce-based salad inappropriate for inclusion in a meal destined to be consumed at a later time.  By the time the dressed salad gets to its destination it will have wilted from the weight and acidity of the vinaigrette.

The obvious solution to this problem is to package the salad components and the dressing separately.  This is a reasonable way to present the salad…and I have done it (and will do it again)…but this solution has its pitfalls too.  Salads are best when the lettuces and additions are tossed together (by hand) in a bowl so that everything will be lightly and evenly coated with just the right amount of vinaigrette.  A well dressed salad is typically not perfectly dressed after the first “toss.”  When I dress a salad, I add salt and pepper, drizzle in some vinaigrette, toss, and then taste.  At this point the salad will probably require some more attention:  Maybe more salt…or a tad more dressing…or a squeeze of lemon even.  I always add less dressing than I think I need at the first pass because an overdressed salad is soggy—and once added you can’t take it away.  (You can always add more.)  Even with a small instruction sheet that is sent home with the curbside dinners, I have no way of knowing if this is how people are dressing their salads.  I wonder if the salad ingredients are simply turned onto a plate with the entire contents of the vinaigrette container poured over.  I’m sure—because the ingredients are delicious—that when eaten this way that the salads are fine.  But they might not be as good as they could be.  And I want to serve food that is more than “fine.”  I want it to be delicious!

So far the best solution I have discovered to my salad dilemma (besides choosing an appetizer other than a salad…) is to choose greens that taste even better after the dressing has had time to sit on them and soften them a bit.  The most obvious green in this category has been green cabbage…in coleslaw. 

Growing up I didn’t think of coleslaw as salad.  I thought of it as some bizarre inedible found at almost every potluck gathering or as the obligatory accompaniment to otherwise delicious barbecue.  I don’t know when it dawned on me that it could actually be a delicious salad (Coleslaw is from the Dutch Koolsla, which translates as “cabbage salad”)…but I have probably written about this before…and have actually posted a couple of tasty recipes. I think the coleslaw I included in one of my summer dinners went over very well.  And as we head into the winter—when cabbage comes into its own—I will probably include coleslaw of some kind again.

But the salad green that has been the very best for my curbside pickup dinners has been kale.  This may cause some eye rolls or heavy sighs from people who are tired of kale.  In recent years kale has enjoyed immense popularity…and has also suffered a fall from favor that is surely a backlash due to overexposure.  And this is a shame.  I won’t get into all of the whys of kale's rise and fall here—mostly because I don’t really understand how a food suddenly become an “it” food in the first place.  I will only say that one of the main reasons that overexposed foods fall out of favor is misuse and improper preparation.  Kale has definitely suffered from both of these.  When served cooked, it is frequently undercooked (not all vegetables should be crunchy or al dente!)…and when served as a salad, often—believe it or not—it isn't dressed far enough in advance.

Kale is after all cabbage.  The Italian name for Tuscan Kale (Cavolo Nero) means black cabbage.  So it makes sense that this substantial and impervious green would taste best in a salad after it has had time to absorb the flavor…and soften from the acidity…of the dressing.  Kale salads stand up so well to the dressing that they can even be eaten as a leftover the next day.  (If you have ever tried to eat leftover dressed salad made with baby lettuce or arugula…or just about any other salad green…before, you probably don’t believe this.)  In fact, kale salads are often better the next day (depending on what else is in the salad).

As far as my dinners were concerned, I had forgotten about kale salads because I don’t tend to eat them in the warmer months (although I do make a delicious warm weather entrée-sized kale salad that involves roasted corn and Italian sausage…).  It was only when I began planning a curbside menu for the first of the cooler weather…and I saw kale back at the farmers market…that I thought about the advantages of using it for a curbside dinner.

The salad I made for the most recent dinner was a combination of the one found on the blog Smitten Kitchen…and the first kale salad I ever tasted (made by my chef friend Nancy).  I borrowed the golden raisins, walnuts, salty pecorino and garlicky toasted breadcrumbs from Smitten Kitchen…and took some crunchy, shaved celery and a fantastic Honey-Dijon vinaigrette from Nancy.  The resulting salad was really, really good:  a flavor party of contrasting tastes and textures.   After the curbside dinner I had leftovers of all the salad ingredients.  So I was able to enjoy this salad for lunch and dinner several days running (with soup…grilled cheese…quesadilla…etc.).  I never got tired of it.

One of the morals of the story here is that if you think you don’t like kale salads, it may be because you have always eaten them too soon after they have been dressed.  I suspect that if you prepared a kale salad for yourself …and then waited a half hour or so to eat it…that you would find that you really liked it.  This particular kale salad would be a great one to use as your first test case.  

  Autumn Kale Salad

100 g. (scant cup) walnuts
62 g. (mounded 1/3 cup) golden raisins
4 t. each white wine vinegar and water
1/4 c. coarse fresh bread crumbs
2 t. olive oil
1 very small clove of garlic
170 g. prepared Tuscan kale (see note)
100 g. (1 c.) thinly sliced celery
2 oz. pecorino, grated medium fine (it should have some texture)
1/2 recipe Honey-Dijon vinaigrette (below)

Spread the walnuts on a small baking sheet and place in a 350° oven and toast until they begin to take on a golden color and are fragrant—about 5 to 7 minutes.  Remove from the oven and set aside to cool (if you like, toss with a small drizzle of olive oil and a pinch of salt).  When the nuts are cool enough to handle, crumble coarsely by hand (or chop, if you prefer—I like the texture of hand crumbled walnuts).  Set aside. 

Place the raisins in a small saucepan with the vinegar and water.  Bring to a simmer.  Simmer gently for five minutes or so (until plump and soft—the liquid may or may not be fully absorbed…this is ok).  Set the raisins aside (don’t drain).

Place the breadcrumbs and olive oil in a small non-stick sauté pan over moderate heat.  Let the crumbs sizzle, stirring regularly with a heatproof spatula, until they are golden in color.  Remove from the heat and use a microplaner to grate the garlic over the crumbs.  Give them one last stir.  Transfer the crumbs to a plate.  Set aside.

Dress the salad:  Place the kale in a large bowl along with the walnuts, raisins (with liquid), celery and pecorino.  Season with freshly ground pepper.  Drizzle most of the vinaigrette over and toss.  Use your hands to toss the greens, massaging/rubbing the vinaigrette into the kale a bit as you toss.

Taste and correct the seasoning with salt and pepper.  Let the salad sit for at least 10 minutes before serving.  Even better—if time allows, cover the salad, and let it sit in the fridge for 30 minutes to an hour.  When ready to serve, toss again, adding more dressing if necessary.  Mound on individual plates or in a serving bowl and scatter the toasted crumbs over all.

Serves 4 generously.

Note:

• It would be nice if bunches of kale always weighed the same. Unfortunately this is not the case. I have purchased bunches that weighed barely four ounces…and some that were 2/3 of a pound or more. A third to a half pound seems to be mostly the norm. You will need at least a half pound untrimmed kale to get the 6 oz. (170 g) of trimmed greens needed for this salad. It is best to purchase two bunches (unless they are very large).
• To prepare the kale, strip out the center rib. Stack the leaves and cut cross-wise in 1/2-inch ribbons. Wash well (in several changes of water) and spin dry. If not using right away, store in an airtight container with a damp paper towel.

(Adapted from Smitten Kitchen)

Honey-Dijon Vinaigrette

1 T. honey
2 t. Dijon mustard
2 T. Sherry vinegar
1 t. fresh lemon juice
kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1/2 c. olive oil

In a small bowl whisk together the honey, Dijon, Sherry vinegar, lemon juice and salt and pepper to taste. Whisk until the salt dissolves, then slowly whisk in the olive oil until you have a nice creamy emulsion. Taste & correct the seasoning.

Printable Version

 

Zucchini-Walnut Muffins with White Chocolate & Lemon Sugar

I have a confession to make. As much as I love all kinds of breakfast breads (coffeecake, scones, cinnamon rolls, yeasted-braids, muffins, etc), muffins tend to get the short shrift in my kitchen. It isn’t that I don’t like them. I do… I have posted recipes for many different kinds (all delicious). But to be honest, a standard muffin is just too small for my breakfast (I’m willing to accept the idea that the problem might be one of appetite, rather than muffin size…but I’ve chosen to approach this problem from the standpoint of blaming the muffin.) One would think the solution to this would be to just eat two muffins. But as it turns out, I think that two muffins are way too much. (Just call me Goldilocks…)

  

For several years now I have noticed pictures in cookbooks and magazines of muffins (and other miniature cakes) that had been baked in intriguing looking paper liners with large jagged, pointed edges. I didn’t think much about it other than that they were attractive. In any case I had never seen them for sale anywhere. 

Then, I saw them in use on a Bread Ahead Bakery tutorial for blueberry muffins. I was actually not being very attentive to the tutorial because I already have a blueberry muffin recipe that is the best (really). But when they began to fill the lined muffin tin with the batter, it became obvious to me that not only were these liners attractive, they made it so a standard muffin cup would hold more batter!

Several others watching at the time were asking about the liners and others who were familiar with them identified them as “Tulip” liners. As soon as the video was over I made a beeline for Amazon to search for Tulip muffin liners. A few days later my pack of 100 liners arrived.

I immediately made my blueberry muffin recipe, dividing it into 9 instead of 12 muffins. I could have made 8…but at the time I thought they looked quite full and I didn’t want to risk an overflow. I needn’t have worried. I got muffins that were tall and generously sized (but not too generous…). And as a bonus, because the liners are made with parchment paper, the muffins don’t stick at all (one of my pet peeves about the old-fashioned style of paper cupcake liners).

 
I now am able to use all of my delicious muffin recipes…and the standard muffin tins I already have in my cabinets…to make muffins that are just what I wanted: a muffin that is the size of 1 1/2 standard muffins. The only possible drawback to these lovely liners is that when you use them you don’t really get the quintessential “muffin top” (which I understand is the favorite part of the muffin for some people…). But since the “muffin top” portion generally wants to stick to the pan, this is not a drawback in my world.

Since muffins have been in the forefront of my mind, when I recently found myself with a glut of zucchini, a muffin was the first baked good I thought about making. I didn’t have a zucchini muffin recipe in my repertoire…so I decided to develop one. It is sort of a hybrid cross of Gina DePalma’s Zucchini & Olive Oil Cake and a Carrot & Apple Spice Muffin recipe that I posted a few years ago. I have added the white chocolate because I think zucchini requires a bit of extra sweetness and I didn’t want to add any more sugar to the muffin batter. I think golden raisins would be another great option. 

If you happen to have a few extra zucchini in your kitchen right now (a common problem in July and August), these muffins would be just the thing. Because they are muffins, they are quick to make and bake. They are also delicious: tender, sweet and spicy…with a tiny zing of lemon. And best of all, they are just the right size.

 

Zucchini Walnut Muffins 

3 T. granulated sugar
1/2 T. finely grated lemon zest

170 g. (1 1/2 c.) all-purpose flour
1/2 t. salt
1/2 t. baking soda
3/4 t. baking powder
1 t. cinnamon
1/2 t. ground ginger
1/4 t. nutmeg
2 eggs
1 t. vanilla
65 g. (1/3 c.) brown sugar
100 g. (1/2 c.) granulated sugar
135 g. (2/3 c.) olive oil
200 to 225 g. finely shredded zucchini (top and tailed, but skin intact)
60 g. (1/2 c.) coarsely chopped/crumbled toasted walnuts
85 g. (1/2 c.) white chocolate chips (optional) 

Combine the sugar and lemon zest;  set the lemon sugar aside.

Place the next seven ingredients in a small bowl and whisk to blend. Set aside.

Place the eggs and vanilla in a large bowl and whisk to break up the eggs. Add the sugars and whisk until smooth. Add the oil while whisking constantly. Whisk until the mixture is smooth, homogenous, and thickened. 

Add the dry ingredients and fold in with a rubber spatula. When the dry ingredients are almost absorbed add the zucchini, walnuts & white chocolate. Continue to fold, just until blended.

Divide the batter among eight to twelve muffin cups (an ice cream scoop works well for this) that have been lined with “tulip” or standard-sized liners. You will get 12 with standard sized, 8 or 9 with tulip-style liners. Sprinkle the lemon-sugar over the batter. 

Transfer to a 350° oven and bake until golden brown, springy to the touch, and a toothpick inserted in the center of one of the muffins comes out clean....about 25 to 35 minutes (depending on the size of the muffins). Let the muffins cool in the pan for five minutes before removing to a wire rack.

Serve warm or at room temperature. The muffins will keep well at room temperature (if stored air-tight) for a couple of days. Freeze them for longer storage.

Makes 8 to 12 muffins.

Printable Recipe

Raw Zucchini Salad

One of the things I love about my new home is my kitchen.  It will come as no surprise to hear that during my home search one of my “must haves” was a good kitchen.  It didn’t have to be state of the art—but it had to be highly functional.  The kitchen I got exceeded my wildest expectations.  I love it…and have enjoyed getting to know it over the past year or so.

But of course, nothing is ever perfect.  During the past two summers I have discovered one thing that I really miss about my old kitchen:  its location in the house.   My old kitchen was just off a large great room that had a two story vaulted ceiling.  The house thermostat was located on the opposite side of the great room.  Without even thinking about it—even on the hottest days of summer—I was in the habit of firing up my oven for tasks hot and large (pizza) as well as things small and moderate (toasting a handful of nuts to top pasta or a salad).  The heat from the oven just wafted out of the kitchen and rose up into the heights of the great room ceiling, never making it as far as the thermostat. The kitchen never got overly hot…and the A/C never had to work any harder to make up for the heat being pumped out of my oven.  In my blissful ignorance I baked and roasted my ways through the long hot summers, always a bit mystified when people in classes commented that they loved my summer pizzas, but they had no intention of turning their oven up to that kind of temperature in the summer.

Fast forward to my new home and kitchen….with its nice powerful convection oven and poorly placed house thermostat (in a small hall area right off the kitchen).   Even though the layout of the house is open, the ceilings are of a standard height.  That, coupled with a smaller space in general, makes it so the temperature in the house can quickly become overwhelmed by my nice powerful oven.  If I turn it on—even for a few minutes—the temperature in a good portion of the house begins to climb…and the A/C begins to run non-stop.  

I don’t share any of this to complain.  Rather, I mention it because it has forced me to become a bit more creative and efficient—which is always a good thing.  The worst issues were solved with a few strategically placed fans (at least turning on the oven doesn’t make the thermostat go up even when the A/C is running!).  I also plan now about when and how I will use my oven.  And as often as possible I double and triple up on tasks:  If the oven is on to make coffeecake (a non-negotiable essential), I toast nuts (in larger batches)…or roast a couple of ears of corn…or bake a bunch of beets.  This way, later in the week, when I want nuts or corn (or beets) for a cold salad, the oven doesn’t even come into play.  

Another change has been in the things I eat—choosing to eat something in its raw state rather than cooked.  Today’s salad is a case in point.  I have always added zucchini to pastas, salads, quiche…quesadillas…all summer long—almost always in its cooked form (roasted, broiled, sautéed, etc.).  When I have chosen to eat it raw I have always felt it necessary to shave it in long ribbons or thin and wide cross sections.  It’s delicious this way, but not always appropriate.

Recently I saw a salad of thick-ish batonnets of raw zucchini on the NY Times Instagram feed.  It included nuts…and herbs…and cheese…and a tangy dressing—but they were just garnish.  It was basically an all out raw zucchini experience.  I was intrigued…and a bit dubious…but I made a mental note to try it sometime.

Later in the week I was making a BLT for dinner and needed a quick side dish.  I had recently come into an abundance of zucchini.  I thought of that salad.  The vinaigrette for the salad was more involved than I wanted—and the salad included toasted almonds (I had raw…)—so I made a few changes.  I had some of the vinaigrette left that I always use on raw late spring/early summer vegetable salads and I thought it would do nicely.  And I used some toasted and salted sunflower seeds that I had on hand and wouldn’t require the oven.  It was delicious.  I was surprised at how much I enjoyed the soft crunch of the zucchini.  To be honest, I think the additional hard crunch of almonds would have been a bit much, so I was glad I had had to use the sunflower seeds instead.

In the days that have followed I have made this style of zucchini the base of my lunch time salad on several occasions.  I almost always add roasted corn (I keep it in a container in the fridge) and cherry tomatoes.  My nut of choice is walnuts (toasted in quantity, salted & oiled, and kept in my pantry), but occasionally I will use sunflower seeds.  Sometimes I use the shaved Pecorino called for in the recipe, but more often than not I opt for big crumbles of Feta.  Arugula makes a great addition…as does mint.  But if you don’t have either of these on hand, it is delicious without.  I’m guessing basil or parsley leaves would be good, too.  And that dressing I had on hand that first time?  It has become the standard.  I have since made a big batch.

It should be obvious that this is a highly adaptable salad. The main thing to keep in mind is the seasoning.  In looking at the recipe and in thinking of my own experience with raw vegetables in general—and zucchini in particular—it seemed to me that salt and acid are the keys to the success of the salad.  So a salty cheese, a tangy vinaigrette, and careful salting are a must.  If you don't have a salty cheese, some olives would be a good addition.  Other than that, feel free to improvise with ingredients—using a nice balance of crunchy, soft, and juicy ingredients.   As for quantities, the ones I’m giving in the recipe are just a guide.  I never weigh when I make this salad—I just add larger and smaller handfuls of the ingredients.  And that’s what you should do too.  The only reason there are weights and measures in my recipe is to give you a place to start.  The last time I made it, I weighed everything as I put it into the bowl for the purpose of posting a recipe.

I realize of course that most of the rest of the world has been having to make these summer cooking adjustments all along—that I was truly spoiled.  But that’s ok.  I have no desire to trade my new kitchen for my old.  I’ll just keep adjusting.  My next operation keep-the-house-cool project will be making friends with my neglected Weber.  Grilled pizza, here I come. 

Raw Zucchini Salad

With Roasted Corn, Cherry Tomatoes & Feta

For one lunch-sized salad (recipe multiplies easily):

1 small zucchini/summer squash (about 2 1/2 oz), cut into quarter-inch batonnets
1/2 c. (about 2 1/2 oz.) roasted corn kernels
1/2 c./2 oz. cherry tomatoes, quartered (or halved of very small)
A small handful/1/2 oz. arugula
20 g./3 T. toasted, oiled & salted walnuts, coarsely crumbled or 1 1/2 T. oiled and salted sunflower seeds
1 oz. crumbled Feta (used a good quality Feta packed in brine) or shaved Pecorino
Salt & Pepper
1 1/2 to 2 T. Basic Tangy Vinaigrette (below)

Place the first six ingredients in a bowl.  

Season with salt and pepper.  Drizzle with the vinaigrette, toss to combine. Taste and correct the seasoning…adding more vinaigrette if you like.  Mound on a plate and serve!

Notes: 

• Quantities should be to taste.  I have given amounts only as a starting point.  You should alter to suit your preferences and your palate.
• Salad is delicious with a handful of fresh mint leaves.

Basic Tangy Vinaigrette:
1 T. finely minced shallot
1 small clove of garlic, minced
1/4 c. red wine vinegar
Salt & freshly ground black pepper
1 T. Dijon mustard
3/4 c. oil—olive oil, or half olive oil and half vegetable oil
1 T. finely minced parsley

Place the shallot, garlic, vinegar, pepper and a half teaspoon of kosher salt in the cup of an immersion blender...or regular blender.  Let sit for five minutes.  Add the mustard. With the blender running, add the oil in a thin stream to form a thick, emulsified dressing.  Add the parsley and process briefly...or simply stir in.  Taste and correct the seasoning.  Makes 1 cup vinaigrette.

The dressing keeps at least two weeks in the refrigerator.  If all olive oil is used, it will solidify under refrigeration and you will need to bring to room temperature before using.  When made with half vegetable oil it will still be pourable when cold.

Note: You may add the parsley with the Dijon...just be aware that your vinaigrette will have a pale green cast to it.

(Vinaigrette recipe from Cooking with the Seasons by Monique Jamet Hooker)


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Zucchini Quiche with Feta, Walnuts & Lemon

Because my work involves so many different cooking outlets (teaching—at more than one place, private dinners—in many different homes, working in a pastry shop, testing recipes for all of the above…not to mention for my blog…) I occasionally purchase way too much of an ingredient.  Most of the time I am able to absorb the extra into my own cooking…or one of the many outlets…without too much thought.  Recently however, I found myself in possession of an extra quart and a half of cream that I didn’t “need” for any of my work.  I love cream.  But a quart and a half is a lot of cream for a household of one!

I began to look for ways to use lots of cream.  I made my mother a batch of scones….  I made myself a batch of scones….  And I still had almost a quart.  At the same time, I also had an abundance of beautiful eggs (gifts from good friends who keep chickens).  So, I thought ice cream would be the solution.  But I didn’t have any milk…and I didn’t feel like adding to my stash of dairy…

Then I went to the farmers’ market.  Actually, I went to three in one morning—because I really do love going to farmers’ markets.  When I got home I discovered that in shopping at three locations without a list I had purchased way too much zucchini and summer squash (it was just so beautiful—I think it has been a good year for squash). 

As I looked at my abundance of squash, wondering how I was going to consume it before it started to go bad, I thought about my stash of cream and eggs….  Then I thought of quiche.  A standard size quiche would use up at least a cup of cream…plus a couple of eggs and a good portion of my squash.  As luck would have it, I also had a round of pate brisée in my freezer (always a good thing to have on hand!).  Clearly a zucchini quiche was meant to be.

Now I just had to decide how I wanted to cook the summer squash (Vegetables should always be cooked before adding them to a quiche. To learn why, check out my “quiche basics” post from a few years ago.)  …and what other flavors I wanted to add to compliment the squash.  For the cooking of the squash I decided to go with a method I described in a pasta salad post several years ago.  The squash is cooked in a sauté pan with a small amount of olive oil and a minimal amount of water.  As the squash cooks the water evaporates.  Tom Colicchio (the source of the method) calls the result ‘the essence of zucchini’:  tender zucchini that isn’t water-logged (as it would be if boiled) or caramelized (as it would be if sautéed or roasted).  I thought it would be a perfect way to prepare it for a quiche.

My inspiration for the remaining flavors began with the zucchini tart in Anna Thomas’s The Vegetarian Epicure (which was the first recipe that popped into my mind when I began to think about a zucchini quiche).   Her tart is so tightly packed with zucchini slices that a cross-section looks like a mosaic.  It is the look I was striving for in my quiche.  She tops her tart with toasted breadcrumbs.  I loved the idea of a bit of crunch—and I love quiche topped with breadcrumbs—but I decided instead to get my crunch from some finely minced walnuts. 

Walnuts are one of my favorite companions for zucchini. The addition of lemon and garlic to this combination raises the flavor to one of those “greater than the sum of its parts” food experiences.  I don’t remember now where I first encountered this combination.  I wish I did, so I could give credit.  Zucchini can seem a bit bland and one dimensional—slightly bitter…with finer specimens exhibiting a nutty flavor profile.  The walnuts accentuate both of these things.  Garlic adds depth.  Lemon turns on the lights, allowing all the flavors to shine.  If you have never tried this combination of flavors, you should try making a side of simply sautéed zucchini, finished with garlic, lemon zest, a shower of chopped walnuts and a judicious amount of salt (and some parsley or thyme if you’re feeling fancy).  You will probably have a new favorite summer side dish.

All of these flavors were easily incorporated into the tart.  I added thyme to the zucchini as it cooked…and slipped the lemon and garlic into the custard.   And to get that little extra bit of salt that all of this requires, I added Feta.  Not only does Feta provide a nice tangy/salty accent, it can be cut into cubes (like the squash) and adds to the lovely mosaic look of the slices of quiche.  All in all, I found this tart to be unusually delicious—and a great way to use up some of that late summer abundance of zucchini (not to mention my own personal surplus of cream and eggs!).

Zucchini Quiche with Feta, Walnuts & Lemon

400 g./14 oz. small zucchini and/or summer squash, trimmed and cut into a 1/4- to 1/3-inch dice (see note)—a generous 3 cups

several sprigs of thyme, picked

1 1/2 t. olive oil

1/4 c. water (plus more as needed)

Salt & pepper, to taste

2 eggs

1 c. heavy cream

Zest of one medium or half of a large lemon

1 small clove of garlic

1 10-inch blind baked tart shell (see below)

1 1/2 oz. grated Parmesan or Pecorino (or a mix of the two—which is my preference)

4 oz. Feta (block in brine), cut into 1/4-inch cubes

1/4 c. walnuts (finely chopped)

In a very large skillet, warm the olive oil over medium to medium high heat. Add the zucchini, the picked thyme, a generous pinch of salt and 1/4 cup of water and cook over moderately high heat, stirring occasionally, until the zucchini is tender and the water has evaporated.  This will take 5 to 10 minutes, depending on the size and age of the zucchini.  Add more water if the zucchini starts to brown. Transfer the zucchini to a baking sheet to cool.  If the zucchini is tender and the water hasn’t evaporated, spread the zucchini on paper towels to absorb the excess moisture. 

Crack the eggs into a medium bowl and whisk until smooth.  Add the cream and lemon zest.  Using a microplane zester (the same one you used for the lemon zest), grate the garlic clove into the bowl (if you don’t have a microplaner, smash the garlic to a purée with a pinch of salt and add).  Whisk until smooth.  Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Place the baked crust on a baking sheet.  Scatter half of the Parmesan/Pecorino over the crust. 

Next, add the squash and spread into an even layer.  Scatter the Feta evenly over the squash and use your fingers to nudge it into an even layer with the cooked squash. 

Slowly pour the custard over the squash and Feta, jiggling the pan a bit so the custard will be evenly distributed and will penetrate any pockets created by the squash and cheese. Be careful not to let the custard flow over the edge. If there are any low places in the edge of your crust, you will not be able to use it all. Scatter the remaining Parmesan/Pecorino over the tart, followed by the walnuts.

Bake the tart in a 375-degree oven until the custard is set—about 25 to 30 minutes (a knife inserted in the center will come out clean). Slide the tart under the broiler to brown slightly if you like. Serves 6 as an entrée (with a salad or vegetable side), 8 to 10 as a light first course with a fluff of lightly dressed greens.

Note: 

• The tart is very fragile if served right away.  If you don’t mind the zucchini slipping apart from the custard a bit as you eat, this isn’t a huge problem.  But if this bothers you, simply make the tart ahead—it slices beautifully if it has time to rest and set up.  And, it actually tastes better on subsequent days—the flavors having had time to develop and blend.
• I have made this tart with both diced and sliced (scant 1/4-inch) zucchini.  When sliced, the “slipping” of the squash (previous note) is even more pronounced.  But slicing the zucchini is obviously faster than dicing…and as mentioned above, isn’t a problem after the tart has had a few hours to set up.
• Parmesan is nutty—accenting the nuttiness of the squash and the walnuts.  Pecorino contributes a salty tang (like the Feta).  I like the inclusion of both—but one or the other would be fine too.

Pâte Brisée

(Short Crust Pastry)

1 1/3 c. all-purpose flour (150g)
3/8 t. salt
8 T. cold unsalted butter, cut into pieces (113g)
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 the smaller measure of ice water over the flour/butter mixture.  Using your hands, fluff the mixture until it begins to clump, 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.

To roll out, let dough warm up for a moment or two.  Butter/spray a 10-inch removable bottom tart pan and set it aside.  Roll out the dough on a lightly floured surface into a circle that is about 1/8- to 1/6–inch thick and with a diameter 2 to 3 inches larger than that of the pan.  Trim any ragged edges.  Brush off the excess flour and fold the dough circle in half.  Transfer it to the prepared pan.  Unfold the dough and ease it into the pan being careful not to stretch it.  Press the dough against the sides of the pan (being sure not to stretch the dough) and cut the dough off flush with the edge of the tart pan.  Chill for at least 30 minutes.

To blind bake, line the pastry with aluminum foil or parchment paper, pressing it into the corners and edges.  Add a layer of pie weights or dried beans.  Bake in a 400° to 425° oven for 20 to 25 minutes.  When the pastry begins to color on the edges and is cooked through, remove the foil and weights and continue baking until the pastry dries out and turns a golden brown (another 5 minutes or so).

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