Musings Concerning "The Table" and the Elusive Blueberry Muffin Recipe

Every now and then I will write a post that doesn't include recipes or pictures. Today's post will be one of those posts.  Well, maybe I'll sneak in a picture....  Here are the beautiful blueberries I purchased for my blueberry muffins:

Seeds of this post were planted as I was reading over my last post. When I wrote it I purposely left out specifics about the event and the people there because it is important to me not to plaster pictures of myself and my friends all over this blog. This is mostly because I am fairly private about my own life and also because I want to respect the privacy of others. But in addition to these things, I want this blog to be accessible, one that is about food and the universal shared experience of food...not just me and my experience of food.

I was telling one of the guests from last Sunday about this omission of the people and personal specifics from my post because leaving these things out had made me feel as though I had somehow misrepresented our evening.  A description of the evening without alluding to those gathered came up short because the gathering of all of us together was the event—food (which was the focus of my post) was just one part of our evening. So I thought I might bring some completion to my previous post by posting a few random thoughts about these intangibles of "the table".

M.F.K. Fisher put it best: "There is a communion of more than our bodies when bread is broken and wine is drunk." This is so true. We are spiritual beings and the table as a gathering place is a place where we commune as people. When we gather with friends, the food is important (I wouldn't be a chef if I didn't believe that), but it is not paramount.

Good food does not automatically produce a happy and memorable gathering. There is a proverb that says "Better a meal of vegetables where there is love than a fattened calf with hatred". I have experienced what it is like to be in paradise on earth, eating the finest food imaginable and not being able to enjoy it because of the presence of an undercurrent of strife and discord. On the other hand, even if the food is perhaps not so fine, a gathering can be happy and memorable if laughter, peace and good conversation are at the table. Although the food was very good at the dinner I posted about, one of the things that made my fourth of July so very special is that I was staying with a friend whose very nature exhibits hospitality, joy and generosity.

Since a well-prepared meal can only enhance a gathering, being able to prepare good food is important. One of the reasons that I teach cooking classes is that I want people to cook good food for their families and friends. I'm sure I have written this before, and it will probably show up over and over on my blog, but I want the things I post to not only encourage and inspire this, but to make it possible. I love hearing back from people that they made something I posted about—or that it motivated them to cook for someone.

A common lament among chefs is that often people are afraid to cook for them. Apparently the fear is that what they prepare will not be "good enough" for a chef. But cooking for another human being is a gift to them. I am always touched when someone makes the effort to cook or bake for me—even more so since I knew they had the "cooking for a chef" hurdle to surmount before they did it.

I will admit that I am a perfectionist when it comes to food that I prepare—it is important to do everything with an eye towards doing your best. I had planned to post about blueberry muffins today. But although the muffins I made were good, they could be better. I am on the hunt for a perfect blueberry muffin—sweet and tender (with a muffin- and not a cake-like texture)...one where the muffin would be fine without the blueberries, but is even better with... The muffins I made weren't quite there, so I didn't want to post about them because I hold out hope I'll come across, or come up with, that recipe. But, even though they were not "perfect", I would not hesitate to share the ones that I made with family and friends over the Sunday morning breakfast or brunch table.

Since there are fine recipes for blueberry muffins everywhere...and we are in the peak of blueberry season...I encourage you to let this post inspire you to make a batch. Make them with love, doing your best. Then, serve them to your family or friends for brunch or a snack...take them to work for your co-workers to enjoy with their morning coffee (instead of the normal industrial fodder that is eaten in offices everywhere)...give some to a neighbor... Feed yourself and others with something that you have made and you will be filling more than just someone's belly. 

As for me, I returned home well-filled after my visit with my friends.

Quotes from: The Gastronomical Me, by M.F.K. Fisher and Proverbs 15:17, The New International Version of The Bible

A Visit to the St. Paul Farmers' Market and a Summer Berry Tart

Several years ago I visited the St. Paul Farmers' Market during the height of the growing season and I have never forgotten it. I remember stall after stall of plump ears of corn and colorful displays of tomatoes, green beans, summer squash, peppers and eggplant. The profusion of pristine produce was amazing. So when I found out I was going to be in the Twin Cities over the holiday weekend (visiting my good friend Bonnie), I knew I wanted to return and experience it again, if possible.

My visit was earlier in the growing season this time than it was last time, but there was still a profusion. All of the things that grow in late spring and early summer were there in ample supply...new potatoes, red & golden beets, tiny haricots verts, peas (tail end of the shelling sort and the beginning of sugar snap), kohlrabi, green & gold zucchini, lettuces, onions, green garlic and herbs. We also came home with some beautiful raspberries and red currants (something I have never worked with and don't remember ever having seen at my market).

I am still relatively new to blogging, so I was thinking mostly about enjoying myself and not so much about taking pictures.  The only picture I took at the market was of the raspberries. They looked so beautiful in their unusual little wooden crates that I couldn't resist.

Bonnie and I both love to cook (and eat) so we purchased more than enough to keep us happily occupied for the duration of my visit. Our evening meal on the fourth was a pure celebration of the bounty of the market. We made a composed salad of roasted fingerling potatoes, roasted beets, and blanched haricots verts. This was topped off with some grilled salmon that we dressed with a generous smear of lemon dill butter (a compound butter made with loads of dill, some lemon zest, lemon juice and a touch of anchovy) when it came off of the grill.

It occurs to me that not everyone will be familiar with the term "composed" salad.  In its most basic form, a composed salad is a salad made by arranging the individually dressed components of the salad on a plate rather than simply tossing them all together as for a "tossed" salad.   Probably the most famous example of a composed salad is the Salade Niçoise.  A Cobb Salad is another well known example.  Our composed salad made a perfect midsummer, outdoor meal.

For dessert we made a custard tart filled with the raspberries and currants from the market. The currants were pretty tart, so we made our favorite sweet crust (adapted from a recipe by my friend Kathy who is a very talented pastry chef) and a sweet custard to balance their tartness. The crust and custard could be used as the building blocks for any number of fruit fillings. I have used them with halved and pitted bing cherries as well as apricot wedges. I'm sure the tart would be wonderful with blueberries, too.

To make the tart, prepare a 9- or 10-inch tart shell (below) and blind bake it.  Finely grate some almond paste over the cooled shell.  This was Bonnie's touch--I never fully appreciated almond paste until I met Bonnie and began to eat her delicious Danish and Swedish baked goods.

While the shell is baking and cooling, make the custard (below), pick through the raspberries (I don't wash them unless they are visibly dirty--washing them can cause them to disintegrate) and wash the currants.  Leave some of the currants on their stems in clusters to garnish the finished tart.  Spread all of them on a towel to dry.

Scatter the raspberries and some of the picked currants over the almond paste covered tart shell.  Don't crowd the berries--a generous amount of custard punctuated intermittently with the sweet-tart berries makes for a more delicate tart than one that is mostly berries.

Carefully pour the custard over the berries, making sure that the custard doesn't overflow the tart shell.  Any custard that seeps in between the crust and the tart pan will burn and cause the tart to stick to the pan.  You may not need all of the custard.  Any leftovers can be baked in a buttered custard cup or ramekin with some of the berries for a cook's treat.

Bake the tart in a 375-degree oven until it is puffed and beginning to take on a golden color around the edges and it is completely set.  Our tart took about 30 minutes to bake.  

Let the tart cool and serve garnished with clusters of fresh currants and some fresh raspberries.  Dredge with some powdered sugar, if you like.  Chill any leftovers.  The tart will serve 8 to 10.

Almond Custard for a 9 to 10-inch Fruit Tart:

2 eggs

½ c. sugar (vary the sugar anywhere from 1/4 to 1/2 cup, according to the sweetness of the fruit)
2 T. all-purpose flour
1 c. heavy cream
½ t. almond extract

In a small bowl, whisk the eggs with the sugar. Sift the flour over and whisk in. Add the cream and the almond extract and whisk until smooth.

Sweet Tart Dough:
1/2 c. (1 stick) unsalted butter
6 T. granulated sugar
1 egg yolk
1 t. vanilla
1 1/4 c. all-purpose flour
1/3 cake flour

Briefly cream the butter and sugar together until smooth. Beat in the egg yolk and the vanilla. Add the flours and mix until just combined. Form the dough into a thick disk. Use immediately, or wrap in plastic and chill or freeze. Let the dough soften before rolling out.

On a lightly floured board (or between 2 sheets of plastic wrap), roll dough out to a thickness of 1/8- to 3/16-inch.  Brush off the excess flour and transfer the dough to a greased tart pan. Ease the dough into the pan being careful not to stretch it and pressing it against the sides of the tart pan. Use your hands or the rolling pin to gently cut the dough flush with the upper rim of the tart pan.

To blind bake, place the shell on a cookie sheet and bake in a 375° oven until set and golden—10-15 minutes. (It is not necessary to fill this crust with pie weights.)

Note: This amount of dough is enough for 1 ½ 9-inch tarts. I generally make up a double batch and divide it into 3 disks of dough. Freeze the disks that you don’t need. Use within 3 to 4 months.

Pasta with Zucchini & Basil—a Favorite Summer Recipe

Instead of A Cooking Life—in Pursuit of Everyday Excellence, I could probably have called my blog Pasta and Cake—Every Day, which would have summed up my personal eating habits pretty well. But since this blog isn't just about what I eat, it would have been a somewhat limiting title. However, people who read my blog will be able to count on frequent posts featuring fresh, seasonal pastas. I really do enjoy pasta, and—all joking aside—it easily makes an appearance on my dinner table a couple of times a week.

Today's post features a simple, very fast, pasta that is truly one of my favorite pasta recipes for summer. The sauce can literally be made in the time that it takes to bring the water to the boil and cook the pasta. The recipe is from Susan Herrmann Loomis's Italian Farmhouse Cookbook. If you don't own any of Susan's cookbooks, I highly recommend them. I was fortunate to get to spend some time working with Susan at her home in France and I know that she is detailed in her research and meticulous in the testing of her recipes. Susan's cookbooks reflect an in depth knowledge of, and an admiration for, the cultures that she writes about. She is also a very fine cook and a good teacher—I learned a lot from her.

I frequently make this pasta exactly as it is written in the book. But I have recently begun to add lemon zest and toasted pine nuts and I think that this is the way I like this pasta the best...for the present, at least. The recipe would also be good with a little smashed garlic, or maybe a few chopped black olives or some halved cherry tomatoes. But I have refrained from adding too much to the recipe because part of the beauty of it is its simplicity. I often think that one of the biggest mistakes that young cooks (and some experienced ones) make is adding too many things to a dish—making for dishes that are muddy in flavor because they are so overwhelming to the palate. Sometimes one or two ingredients is all you need. If they are beautiful, pristine ingredients, there is nothing better. So, if you don't have lemons or pine nuts on hand, rest assured this pasta is very good with basil and zucchini alone.

Pasta with Baby Zucchini & Basil

1/3 c. extra virgin olive oil
1 c. (gently packed) fresh basil leaves, cut into thin ribbons
1 lb. penne, farfalle, fusilli, or any other short, sturdy pasta
1 lb. small zucchini, trimmed and cut into very thin rounds (this works best with a mandoline slicer)
6 T. grated Parmesan

Place the oil in a large bowl along with the basil; stir to make sure the basil is completely coated with the oil.

 Bring 6 quarts of water to the boil in a large stock/pasta pot. Add 2 to 3 T. of salt. Add the penne and cook until almost al dente—it should still be quite firm in the center. Add the zucchini rounds and stir. Continue to cook until the penne is al dente and the zucchini is tender—this should take 1 to 2 minutes. Drain.

Add the pasta and zucchini to the basil oil and toss to combine. 

Add the Parmesan and toss again. Add some of the pasta water if the pasta seems stodgy or dry (for this dish you may need as much as 1/4 c. of the pasta water). Taste and correct the seasoning. Serve immediately. Serves 4 to 6.

My Variation: Add the zest of 1 large lemon and 1/4 c. toasted pine nuts to the olive oil with the basil.

Recipe from Italian Farmhouse Cookbook by Susan Herrmann Loomis)

Basil Butter....with Corn on the Cob, Sockeye Salmon and a Quick Vegetable Sauté...

Our weather finally became hot and more Midwestern Summer-like a little over a week ago.  The warm weather brought on a growth spurt in my basil plants.  I wanted to give them a good pruning to encourage more branched growth, but cutting off enough basil for a batch of pesto might have decimated them.  Instead, I decided to make a little basil butter. It will keep for a while (can even be frozen) and will add a quick, fresh burst of basil flavor to whatever I choose to add it to.

Basil butter is a compound or flavored butter. Compound butters are wonderful flavoring agents—they can be used to dress vegetables, garnish a soup or finish a pasta or risotto.  They can also be smeared on a crostini or spread on a resting steak. They are quickly made and can include pretty much anything you like—minced herbs, citrus zests, reconstituted and minced/puréed sundried tomatoes or dried porcinis, finely minced olives, capers or anchovies, reduced liquids like port or orange juice, toasted and ground spices, finely minced shallots, smashed garlic, lemon juice or brandy.... Because fat carries flavor, any dish you add a compound butter to will be permeated with the flavor of your chosen additions. If you have never made a compound butter, and you have some basil plants that are beginning to come into their own, a basil butter would be a good place to begin.

For my basil butter I picked and then washed and dried a handful of basil (half an ounce? maybe less?). I minced it finely and added it to 2 or 3 oz. of softened, unsalted butter (you may use salted, but if you use unsalted, then you will be able to control the amount of salt that ends up in the butter). Because garlic is a good partner for basil, I added a small clove of garlic that I had smashed to a purée with a pinch of salt. I added more salt to taste and I was done. If I had wanted to, I could have added some lemon zest or maybe even some minced, toasted pine nuts...to mimic the flavor of pesto.

The point is, you can add whatever you like to get the effect you want. But, having said that, there are a few tips for making a successful compound butter. First of all, everything you add to the butter should be finely minced or, if a liquid, reduced to a syrup (two exceptions to this that come to mind are lemon juice and brandy). The butter should be jam-packed with whatever you are adding—the basil butter for example should look almost green.

(Be careful with garlic though—one or two cloves should be plenty for a stick of butter.)  A small amount of compound butter should pack a solid punch of flavor. It shouldn't be necessary to add a ton of butter to something in order to taste the flavors you have added. Finally, when making a compound butter, always let it sit at room temperature for 20 to 30 minutes before correcting the seasoning—especially the salt. It will take some time for the salt to dissolve in the fat and for the other flavors to permeate the butter.

The night I made the basil butter, we had it brushed over hot corn on the cob:

The following night I smeared it on some Sockeye Salmon before baking it. This is one of my favorite ways to use compound butter. It is the easiest way I know of to prepare fish.

To begin, pat the fish dry. It is almost impossible to spread butter on a piece of meat or fish that is wet. Place a blob of softened basil butter on the fish filets.

Spread the butter in an even layer over the fish.  If you will be using the butter for other things, make sure that you don't contaminate it with the raw fish—use one implement to dollop the butter on the fish, making sure that it doesn't come into contact with the fish itself, and another to spread the butter.

Place the fish on a rimmed baking sheet or casserole and bake in a hot oven (400° to 450°) until it is done the way you like it. I like to cook my salmon until the white proteins are just beginning to be visible on the surface of the fish—for my 1/2-inch thick piece of salmon, this was about 6 minutes at 450°. A good rule of thumb for cooking fish is 10 minutes per inch of thickness. The finished fish is evenly covered with the herbs from the butter and the butter has basted the fish as it bakes. Fast, delicious and beautiful.

I served the salmon on top of a quick sauté of corn with zucchini and green beans (finished with a blob of my basil butter), and I topped the fish with some quick roasted cherry tomatoes. The acidity of the roasted tomatoes really lit up the dish, so if you don't want to make the tomatoes, maybe add some lemon zest and juice to the butter.

To make the tomatoes, halve or quarter some cherry, grape or pear tomatoes. Toss them with a little olive oil and a sprig or two of thyme, if you like. Spread them, cut surfaces up, in an oiled baking dish, season with salt and pepper and bake them in a hot oven (400° to 450°) until softened and beginning to caramelize in spots—15 minutes or so. I unfortunately didn't get any pictures of this, but they should not be too crowded in the pan, or spread too far apart. Also, 15 minutes is how long it took to roast 4 oz. of ripe cherry tomatoes in a small stoneware dish. The amount of time in your oven will depend on the size of the pan you are using, the ripeness of the tomatoes, how large a batch you are making, etc. When the tomatoes are done, remove them from the oven and drizzle with some white balsamic vinegar (or other vinegar of your choice). Serve warm or at room temperature.

My directions for the Basil Butter, Butter Baked Fish and Roasted Cherry Tomatoes may seem a little vague and loose. And that's because they are. For me, this was a quick evening meal, inspired by the ingredients at hand. If you try it, I encourage you to be engaged with the process, using my instructions from my experience in my kitchen as a guideline and then altering times, temperatures and ingredients to fit your pantry and your equipment.

The vegetable sauté that I made was loosely based on a succotash recipe out of one of my favorite cookbooks—The Art of Simple Food, by Alice Waters—so I have a more concrete recipe to pass along for that.

Sweet Corn with Zucchini, Romano Beans & Herbs

2 small or 1 large ear of corn, shucked
Olive oil
1/2 a small onion (about 2 oz.), diced
1 t. picked fresh thyme
1 small zucchini (3 or 4 oz.), diced
3 or 4 oz. Romano beans, cut in one inch pieces on the diagonal
2 to 3 t. minced chives
1 to 2 T. basil butter or plain unsalted butter
Salt & Pepper, to taste

Cut the kernels off of the cobs. Scrape the cobs to release the milky "scrapings". You should have about 1 to 1 1/4 cups corn. Set aside.

Heat some olive oil in a medium sauté pan over medium heat. Add the onions and thyme along with a pinch of salt and cook until tender—about 5 minutes. Add the zucchini and continue to cook until just tender—another 5 minutes or so. If the pan seems dry, add a bit more oil.

While the onions and zucchini are cooking, cook the Romano beans in boiling salted water until tender—5 to 7 minutes. Drain and set aside until ready to use.

Meanwhile, add the corn and corn "scrapings" to the onion and zucchini and continue to sauté until the corn is tender—this should only take a minute or two. Add the beans and cook for a minute. Add the chives. Add the basil butter and cook, stirring and tossing to coat the vegetables with the butter. If the pan seems dry, add a splash of water and continue to toss until the vegetables are just coated in a light film of butter and herbs. Taste and correct the seasonings and serve immediately. Serves 2.

Printable Version

A Quinoa and Vegetable Pilaf—Good Food without a Recipe

In my cooking classes I frequently encourage people to think of the recipes that I teach as templates. The reason for this is that my goal is always to teach technique—not just recipes. I want someone to be able to go home with a recipe I have taught and use that recipe to feed themselves and their friends and family—whether they have the exact ingredients for the specific recipe or not.

I thought I would write a short post to illustrate what I mean by this in practice. Yesterday evening, I got home late and didn't have a lot of time to think about what to make for dinner. Furthermore, it was Friday. Which meant that I would be going to the farmers' market the following morning. I always want to use up, if possible (sometimes it isn't), any of my produce that is left from the previous Saturday when I make dinner on Friday.

When I got home, I pulled everything out of the produce bin and spread it out on the counter: a bunch of Swiss Chard, plus a few odds and ends of beets, turnips, summer squash, summer onions, green beans and peas. Obviously, I couldn't eat all of this in one meal. I decided to use the chard for sure—to basically use it as my starting point. I then put the beets and turnips back. They go well with chard, but they will continue to keep a bit longer and I was more interested in going in the direction of the quick-cooking beans and summer squash.

As I looked at what I had left on the counter, a grain pilaf began to take shape in my mind. I wrote about just such a pilaf a couple of months ago—Bulgur Pilaf with Chickpeas and Spinach.  A pilaf like this one is quick, nutritious, and takes well to a medley of vegetable additions (which is what I had in front of me).

The idea of that recipe is to make a grain pilaf and then garnish it with some cooked, chopped greens, sautéed/blanched/roasted vegetables, herbs and spices, as well as some dried fruits & nuts if you are so inclined. At that point, all I really had to do was settle on the grain. I thought about couscous and bulgur, but I ended up using quinoa, which I particularly like with summer squash.

I made my quinoa pilaf by sweating a small summer onion in some butter. I added cumin and cayenne before adding the quinoa (make sure you rinse quinoa to rid it of the bitter saponin). As the onions and then quinoa were cooking, I blanched the green beans and then steamed the chard until it was tender over the water the beans had been blanched in. After the chard cooled, I squeezed it out and chopped it coarsely. I sautéed some sliced zucchini and yellow squash in some butter. Mint from the garden, chopped toasted pistachios and golden raisins pulled it all together.

Incidentally, you may have noticed that the peas did not make an appearance in my pilaf. I think it's important to always make an effort to combine ingredients with care and not just throw things in because they are there—it is easy when cooking extemporaneously, so to speak, to get overly exuberant and end up with a hodgepodge that has little coherence. The peas just didn't seem like a great fit for this particular combination. Besides, they can be frozen or made into a quick pasta, or side dish, in the next day or two.

To prepare my pilaf, I didn't really measure any quantities. I could have pulled out the "original" recipe, but it probably wouldn't have changed my results too much. I had what I had, so that is what I used—a handful of green beans, what looked to be 2 or 3 servings of squash, one bunch of chard and a small onion. I used enough quinoa to support my chosen additions (in this case 2/3 cup—but the only reason I measured it was to know how much liquid to use). We had more than we needed for dinner, but there was just enough leftover pilaf to make a nice lunch for someone the next day.

My goal—and this should always be your goal when cooking—was to produce food that tasted good. And if you have learned and practiced the basic techniques of good cooking—and paid attention to flavor combinations that you have liked in the past—it isn't really necessary to pull out a recipe to be able to cook food that tastes good. This is really what cooking is all about—applying good techniques to ingredients that have been chosen and combined with care.

While I was cooking my pilaf, I pulled my beets back out of the refrigerator and threw them in the oven. They made a great little side dish to accompany my leftover pilaf for lunch on Saturday.

Basic Cooking instructions for Quinoa:  Rinse the quinoa well.  Simmer, covered, for 12 to 15 minutes in 1 1/4 times the amount of liquid as you have quinoa.  Remove it from the heat and let it rest, covered, for 5 minutes.  Fluff and serve.  Use these quantities and times whether you are simply boiling the quinoa or are making it in the pilaf style.

More Corn...this time in a Risotto with Summer Squash

Even though there are only two of us, and it is only Wednesday, we have already managed to eat our way through 5 of the 6 small ears of corn that I purchased at the market on Saturday.  As I mentioned, the ears are quite small and are only yielding about a half cup of kernels per ear.  But those kernels are unbelievably sweet and tender and I don't want even this small amount to languish, unused, in the fridge. 

If I am not testing recipes for a class, or a private dinner, our weeknight meals tend to be pretty streamlined and simple.  So when I found the lone ear of corn I began to toss about in my mind for something along the lines of a quick, one-dish meal in which to use it.  As I mentioned in my previous post, corn goes well with summer squash--something I also have and will continue to have on hand for the remainder of the summer.  Since I also have the first of the sweet, juicy summer onions, I felt like I had the makings of a nice risotto. 

There has been much written on how to go about making the perfect risotto, and I doubt that I can add anything new to the conversation.  What I can do is define what I think constitutes a good risotto and discuss the things that I focus on when I make risotto in order to achieve that result. 

To me a good risotto is characterized by grains of rice that still have discernable texture, but are not in any way crunchy.  Furthermore, the grains of rice are suspended in--almost one with--a thick, creamy liquid that tastes of the rice, sometimes cheese and the vegetables, herbs and/or meats that have been used to garnish the risotto.  Sometimes the effect is a blended, harmonious whole and others it is an interplay of distinct flavors and textures--depending on when and how the garnishes have been added.

To achieve the desired result, the first thing I focus on is the cooking of the onions in the fat.  The onions should be cooked until they are completely tender.  The juices that the onions release will contribute to the creaminess of the final result.  The rice (I prefer carnaroli or arborio) is then added and cooked in the fat so that it too will begin to release its starches.  After that the liquid should only be added in small increments--allowing each addition to be almost fully absorbed before adding the next.  The rice should never be swimming in a thin broth, but always cooking in a minimal amount of an increasingly creamy liquid.   The risotto should be frequently and regularly stirred throughout the cooking process, as this too increases the creaminess of the final dish.  Finally, the final addition of butter is important--don't skip it--it helps to pull the risotto together into a creamy, fluid whole.

Every now and then you come across an explanation of a cooking process that is so clear and informative that it seems complete--there is no need to look anywhere else.  Paul Bertolli's description of how to cook risotto in Chez Panisse Cooking is such a text.  It is, hands down, the best explanation of how to cook risotto that I have ever come across.  I highly recommend seeking it out.

As I pulled together my ingredients for my zucchini and corn risotto, I thought it would make a simple and satisfying midweek meal...and it did.

 Risotto with Zucchini, Basil & Sweet Corn

12 oz. small zucchini and/or summer squash, trimmed and cut into small cubes or thin slices
5 T. unsalted butter, divided
1 to 1 1/2 cups fresh corn (plus pulp and "milk" scraped from the cob)
1 medium onion, finely diced
1 clove of garlic, minced
1 ½ c. Arborio or Carnaroli rice
½ c. white wine
About 6 c. hot chicken stock
1 T. chopped thyme
2 to 3 T. butter
2/3 c. grated Pecorino or Parmesan
1 to 2 T. basil chiffonade
Salt & Pepper, to taste

Heat 2 tablespoons of butter in a large sauté pan over medium heat. Increase the heat and add the zucchini. Quickly sauté until the squash is beginning to color. 

Add the corn and continue to sauté until the corn is tender and the squash is golden brown.  The squash should still have some texture. Set aside.

Heat 3 tablespoons butter in a heavy medium saucepan over medium heat. Add the onion and garlic and sweat until very soft, but not brown—5 minutes or so. Add the rice and continue to cook for a minute or two. Add the wine and cook until the pan is nearly dry. Begin to add the stock. Add enough so that the stock is at the same level as the rice in the pan. Adjust the heat so that the rice cooks at a slow simmer. When the pan is nearly dry,

add more stock and season lightly with salt & pepper. Continue to stir and cook the rice, adding more stock as each addition is absorbed.

When the rice is almost cooked (after about 15 to 20 minutes of cooking), stir in the cooked squash and corn along with the thyme.

Continue to cook, stir and add stock until the squash is tender and the rice is al dente—another 3 to 5 minutes. Remove from the heat and stir in the butter, cheese and basil.

Taste and correct the seasoning and serve immediately. Serves 6

Note:  This recipe is easily divided--for my batch for two, I divided it by three (and I used a heaped 1/2 cup of rice...I was hungry).

Printable Version

The Beginning of Corn Season and a Corn, Mushroom & Caramelized Onion Strudel

The first corn of the season appeared at the Farmers' Market this past Saturday. The ears were very tiny (it has been an odd year, weather-wise), but they were juicy and sweet. As I purchased them, the farmer said apologetically that there were probably a few worms. I told him that was fine, I would just cut the ends off. (Okay, actually before I said that, I smiled and said that worms were just extra protein.) He looked relieved and said that he wished more people had that attitude. Apparently in the past he has had people tell him they "had to" throw away entire ears of corn because there was a worm in the end.... 

I didn't ask, but I'm guessing he doesn't spray chemicals on his corn to prevent worms. If I am given the choice, I would rather cut off a few worms than eat corn that has been sprayed with pesticides. But I imagine a worm or two gets through, even on sprayed corn. In any case, be assured that the portion of the ear that the worm has enjoyed can be cut away (along with the worm itself) and the rest of the ear safely eaten. Here is one of the beautiful ears that I brought home:

I love our Midwestern corn. Not only is it juicy and sweet, but as the season progresses the ears we get are large and plump. One ear will usually produce at least a cup of corn kernels, plus a tablespoon or two of milky corn "scrapings". I always have to laugh when I pick up a cookbook that tells me I need 2 ears of corn to get a cup of kernels. Clearly these authors have never experienced Kansas, Nebraska and Iowa corn.

The corn I buy at the market will find its way into pastas, risotto, polenta, salads, succotash, as well as other side dishes. During the height of summer, corn goes with beans (green and shell), tomatoes, peppers, potatoes, and summer squash. Since our season is long, I mix it with the last of the peas in early summer and the beginnings of the sweet potato and winter squash crop in the fall. No matter the season, it is good with cheese, onions, garlic, bacon, thyme, sage, rosemary, marjoram, oregano, basil, cilantro, parsley, chives, dill and cumin.. It compliments beef, pork, and chicken as well as many different kinds of fish and shellfish. It will probably make frequent appearances on my blog during the next few months.

Left off the list above, and in a special class by itself, is the combination of corn and mushrooms. Truly a match made in heaven, I serve it on potato gnocchi or pasta, in salads, and as a side dish or stuffing. When I came across a recipe for Corn & Caramelized Onion Strudel in Maria Helm Sinskey's The Vineyard Kitchen, it seemed to be begging for the addition of some nicely sautéed mushrooms.

One strudel can be served with a small salad as a first course.  Also, since it can be made ahead and baked at the last minute, it works well for a summer dinner party:

Two strudels would make a nice entrée portion along with a more substantial summer salad—spinach with tomatoes and grilled, sliced Italian Sausage.  I unfortunately didn't get a picture of the salad with the sausage, but it was quite tasty.  Without the sausage, it made a satisfying lunch:

Sweet Corn, Mushroom & Caramelized Onion Strudel

4 large ears of corn, shucked
1 medium onion (8 oz.), cut in a 1/4-inch dice (1 1/2 c.)—use sweet summer onions if you can get them
4 T. olive oil, divided
1 T. butter, optional
Salt & Pepper
1 1/2 t. minced fresh marjoram or 1 T. minced fresh thyme
2 small or 1 large clove garlic, minced
3/4 lb. crimini or button mushrooms, halved a thinly sliced
8 to 9 oz. Fontina cheese, coarsely grated (about 2 cups)
18 9x14-inch sheets defrosted phyllo dough—about half a box
6 to 8 T. butter, melted

Cut the corn kernels off of the cobs. You should have 4 cups corn. Set aside. Using the back of your knife or a large spoon, scrape the cobs to release any remaining corn pulp and/or milk; reserve separately.  (In the picture, the cob at the top has been scraped and the one at the bottom has not.   The "scrapings" from the top ear are between the two cobs.)

Heat a large sauté pan over medium high heat. When hot, add enough oil to coat the pan. Add the onions and sauté until tender and beginning to caramelize—about 5 minutes for sweet summer onions. Regulate the heat as necessary to keep the onions from burning.

When the onions are tender add the corn to the pan, adding some butter if the pan appears to be dry. Add a pinch of salt and continue to sauté until the corn is tender and just beginning to caramelize—2 to 3 minutes.

When the corn is tender, add the garlic, herbs and reserved corn "scrapings" and continue to sauté until the garlic is fragrant and the liquid from the corn "scrapings" has evaporated—about a minute. Remove from the heat, season with salt & pepper and cool.

While the corn and onions are cooking, heat another sauté pan (preferably non-stick) over medium high to high heat. When the pan is hot, add enough oil to coat the pan. Add the mushrooms and sauté until tender and browned. Season with salt and pepper and set aside to cool.

In a large bowl, combine the corn and onions, mushrooms and cheese. Taste and correct the seasoning with salt & pepper.

To form the strudel: Lay a piece of plastic wrap on the counter. Lay the stack of phyllo on top of the plastic and cover with another sheet of plastic, lightly pressing the edges to seal. It is important as you work with the phyllo that you keep it covered at all times. It dries out very quickly and is impossible to work with once it dries out. Some people cover the phyllo with a damp towel instead of plastic wrap, but I think this makes the phyllo soggy.

Lay one sheet of phyllo on your work surface with the long side parallel to the edge of the counter. Brush the sheet lightly with butter (don't overdo it or the strudels will be greasy instead of crisp and light). Place another sheet of phyllo on top of the first. Brush lightly with more butter. Repeat with one more sheet of phyllo for a total of 3 layers.

Using a pizza wheel or a sharp knife, cut the phyllo lengthwise in half into two 9- by 7-inch rectangles. Place 1/2 cup of cooled filling (1/12 of the recipe) in at the end of each if the rectangles of phyllo nearest the edge of the counter, leaving a 1 inch border at the end and sides free of any filling. Starting at the end closest to you, fold the edge of the phyllo over the filling and begin to roll the strudel away from you, forming a slightly flattened roll. Half way up the sheets (after the filling has been completely covered by the phyllo), fold the edges of the phyllo in and continue to roll.

Place the strudel seam-side down on a parchment-lined baking sheet and brush lightly with butter. Repeat with the remaining phyllo and filling. You will have 12 small strudels.

Just before baking use a sharp knife to cut 3 or 4 diagonal slashes in each strudel so that they won't blow open in the oven. Bake in a 400° oven until golden and crisp and the filling is bubbling—about 20 minutes.

Cool slightly before serving. Serve one per person with a small salad as a first course. Serve 2 per person as a light entrée.

(Recipe adapted from The Vineyard Kitchen, by Maria Helm Sinskey)