Autumn Salad of Red & White Quinoa with Roasted Delicata Squash & Apples

Occasionally when I propose recipes for a class, I don't have a finished recipe ready.  Instead, I propose a recipe title that expresses a food idea that appeals to me.  Most of the time developing the recipe to match the idea is a pleasure.  Such was the case with three of the recipes in my recent Squash and Sweet Potatoes class.  I posted two of these recipes last month (Rice Gratin with Butternut Squash & Mushrooms and Marbled Chocolate & Pumpkin Cheese Tart) and I am posting the third today: Quinoa & Roasted Winter Squash Salad with Autumn Fruits & Pistachios.  Along with the recipe, I thought it might be fun to share how I went from title to finished recipe.

The title of this recipe was purposefully vague—this gave me some creative wiggle room as the class approached.  "Winter Squash" could be any number of the delicious squash that are flooding the market right now...Butternut, Kabocha, Red Kuri, Acorn, Sweet Dumpling, Delicata, etc.  (Although, I knew it would not be Butternut or Pumpkin since those two were already slated to appear in other recipes.)  "Autumn Fruits" is also conveniently imprecise...it could mean a dried fruit of some kind, or an apple...or pear...maybe cranberries...or even pomegranate.  And the word "salad" allows leeway to include greens...or not.  To me, it is the presence of a vinaigrette that makes a salad, so as long as I included that, I knew I would be in good shape. 

When I began to think seriously about this recipe, I settled on Delicata squash for the "winter squash" portion of the salad.  Delicatas are one of the easiest of the winter squashes to prepare—they only need to be scrubbed, halved and seeded to prepare them for cooking.  The thin skin is attractive and tender when cooked, so it can be left on.  The flavor too is easy and friendly—nutty and slightly sweet.  I can't imagine there are too many people who wouldn't like the taste of this squash.  It is particularly delicious when roasted, making it a perfect candidate for  my salad recipe.

Delicata and apples...ready to be roasted

To be honest, when I proposed the recipe I knew I wanted to include chunks of roasted apple in my salad.  I love apples with winter squash (although, roasted pears would have been good too...).  My dilemma was what other fruits to include.  Since I had chosen to put pistachios in the salad (something that I have appreciated in combination with winter squash and grain pilafs since I developed a bulgur pilaf that featured these two in combination), I thought something red would be nice...Christmas is coming, after all.  This limited me to pomegranate or dried cranberries or cherries.  I had planned on pomegranate, and then at the last minute, just before I threw the pomegranate into my first test run of the salad, I decided I wanted something slightly chewy (as opposed to crunchy) and reached for the dried cranberries instead.  I loved the way this turned out—not only because of the texture they add, but also because of their pronounced sweet-tart flavor.  Soaking them in orange juice emphasized these great qualities...and added another nice flavor element as well.  If you don't want to use orange juice, apple cider would be a good choice too.

In the end I did decide that my "salad" should include greens. I love the addition of Arugula to the Quinoa, Beet & Avocado salad I posted a couple of years ago...and there are still such beautiful greens available locally.  Just this past weekend I purchased a bag of hearty Autumn lettuces that included (among other things) Beet greens, Arugula, young Red Russian Kale and an Asian green similar to Tatsoi (unfortunately, I can't remember its name).  I couldn't believe how good these greens were (I started to eat them right out of the bag as I was washing them...no dressing...no olive oil...they didn't need a thing).  These greens had more substance than baby lettuces, but at the same time had not been allowed to reach the point of maturity where they had to be cooked (the grower jokingly told me that he called them "teen-aged greens").  

When I was testing the salad I used a package of Organic Girl mix ("supergreens") that included Red & White Chard, Arugula, Spinach and Tatsoi.  Any of these greens I have mentioned—alone, or in combination—would be delicious in this salad.  They will stand up to the bulk and weight of the quinoa as well as the strong flavors of the other ingredients.

To round out the flavors of my salad, I used sherry vinegar and Feta cheese.  Sherry vinegar is excellent with apples, and its inherent nuttiness makes it good with the roasted squash.  The Feta provides a nice salty accent...really waking up all of the other flavors. 

Finally, as is obvious from the pictures, I chose to use a combination of white and red quinoa.  My original plan had been to use all white quinoa.  White is the kind that I'm in the habit of keeping on hand...and like everyone else, I often cook out of habit.  I do think that the salad would be just fine made with all white quinoa, but at some point between the time I proposed the recipe and when I began testing  the recipe I happened to see a bag of mixed quinoa—white, red and black.  It was so pretty that I decided I wanted to make my salad with a combination of two colors of quinoa.  If you don't want to purchase two colors of quinoa, I would choose to make the salad with all white instead of all red.  The white provides some quiet relief in the midst of what was in the end a very colorful salad. 

I loved the way this salad turned out.  It is loaded with flavor and substantial enough to stand on its own as an entrée (which is how I have enjoyed it).  If you are a person who must have animal protein with your evening meal, I imagine it would make a nice side dish...particularly for pork.  Best of all, unlike most salads that include raw greens, this one holds up beautifully.  It would be a great contribution to a pot luck dinner...and I can vouch for the fact that the leftovers make a fine lunch the following day.  

Quinoa & Roasted Winter Squash Salad 

with Autumn Fruits & Pistachios

1/2 c. olive oil, divided

1 small red onion, cut in a 1/4-inch dice (about 1 cup)

1 c. quinoa, well rinsed (1/2 cup white and 1/2 cup red, if available)

1 1/4 c. water

1/3 to 1/2 c. dried cranberries

1/3 c. freshly squeezed orange juice (from Valencia oranges, if available)—see notes & variations

1 lb. Delicata squash, well-scrubbed (see note)

1 large apple (8 or 9 oz.)—something with a sweet-tart character and that holds its shape when cooked...I prefer Pink Lady, but Braeburn or something similar would also work 

1/2 c. pistachios, toasted and coarsely chopped

3 to 4 t. Sherry vinegar

2 1/2 to 3 oz. hearty greens (see notes)

2 to 3 oz. Feta (optional)

Warm 2 T. of olive oil in a medium sauce pan set over moderate heat. Add the onion along with a pinch of salt and sweat until onion is soft and beginning to caramelize—about 10 to 15 minutes. Add the quinoa and continue to cook and stir until the grain is well-coated with the oil, lightly toasted and hot through—1 or 2 minutes. Add the water, along with some salt, and bring to a full boil. Reduce the heat, cover and cook, until tender—12 to 15 minutes. Let rest, covered and off of the heat, for 5 minutes. Spread the quinoa on a sheet pan to cool.

While the quinoa cooks, prepare the vegetables and fruit: 

Place the dried cranberries in a small bowl and cover with the orange juice. Let sit for at least 15 minutes.

Halve the squash lengthwise, scoop out the seeds and discard. Cut the halves of the squash lengthwise, then cut crosswise into 1/2- to 3/4-inch thick pieces. 

Peel the apple. Cut it into quarters and remove the core. Cut each quarter into three wedges and cut the wedges in half cross-wise.

Toss the squash and apples with enough olive oil to lightly coat. Season with salt and pepper and spread on a baking sheet. 

Roast in a 400° to 425° oven until tender and caramelized—about 30 to 40 minutes.

Carefully turn the squash and apples over with a pancake turner about 2/3 of the way through the cooking time. Let the squash and apples cool. 

To make the salad, place the quinoa, squash, apples, dried cranberries and orange juice in a large bowl. Add the pistachios and toss to combine. Drizzle a tablespoon of sherry vinegar and a quarter cup of olive oil over all. Toss to combine. Add the greens and toss again. Taste and add more sherry vinegar if necessary. If the salad seems dry, add more olive oil...or more orange juice, if you like. 

Serve with the Feta crumbled coarsely over. Serves 4 as an entrée, or 6 to 8 as a side.

Notes & Variations:

• If you like, you may use an Acorn, a Sweet Dumpling or a Carnival Squash. Halve and scoop out the seeds as for the Delicata and cut cross-wise into 1/2-inch thick slices. Cut the slices into bit-sized lengths. 
• If you prefer, you could substitute a peeled and cubed squash for the slices of squash—Butternut, Red Kuri, Kabocha, etc. 
• Try substituting apple cider for the orange juice. 
• For the greens, I love an Organic Girl blend that includes red & white chard, spinach, arugula and tatsoi (called "supergreens". Baby kale would also be delicious.

Printable Recipe

Homemade Yogurt Revisited

About a year ago I wrote a post chronicling the early stages of my foray into yogurt making.  Although there have been a few bumps along the way, I am happy to report that I am still making yogurt and that the yogurt I am making now is better than ever.  I can't imagine going back to store bought.  Since my original post was about the things I was just beginning to learn about the process, now seemed like a good time to share some of the things I have learned over the past year.  If you have never made your own yogurt...or if you missed my previous post...you might want to go back and give it a quick read to familiarize yourself with the basics before reading today's post.

After I had been making yogurt successfully for a couple of months, I had a sudden dip in the quality of my yogurt.  It started with a batch that took way too long to set.  Successive batches were thinner and had an odd rope-y kind of texture.  I began to ask around to see if I could discover what was going on.  What I found was that it seemed to be common knowledge among my yogurt-making friends that yogurt culture at some point just begins to diminish in strength.  The generally accepted way of dealing with this is to simply start over with a fresh culture. 

Well, this seemed like a very unsatisfactory solution to me.  Yogurt is an ancient food.  Cultures have been kept alive for centuries (how would we have them today if this were not the case?)  Surely there was something I was missing.  And as it turns out, there was.  While looking around on line, I ran across a company that sells heirloom yogurt cultures.  Their cultures are touted as being indefinitely reusable (some of the comments praising their products were from people who had been making yogurt from the same culture for over a year).  In reading over their site, as well as an NPR discussion of "eternal starters" (that linked me to their site), I discovered that keeping these heirloom cultures viable involved using them to make yogurt every five to seven days.  This sounded promising.  I thought about ordering one of the heirloom cultures so I could give it a try, but it was the middle of the summer and the risk of the culture dying from the heat in transit made me hesitate.  Furthermore, I had just restarted my yogurt making with some Dannon plain, so I thought I would first give the every five to seven days thing a shot with the culture I already had.  This was in August, and I am still using the same culture...with no indication of failure thus far.

The main reason I wanted to write this post was to share this little bit of information about having to make yogurt every five to seven days.  I read many blog posts and on-line magazine articles about making yogurt when I first started and found no mention of it.  I occasionally found an honest soul who admitted they had had a failure and then had to start over with a fresh culture, but by and large the issue seems to be unaddressed (perhaps I have just been looking in the wrong places...).  I'm guessing that this is because many people who make yogurt have naturally fallen into a yogurt making schedule that is more frequent than once a week.  For these people, they will have automatically avoided the problem I ran into.  In my house we consume about a quart of yogurt a week.  I had been making a half gallon of yogurt every two weeks or so.  Since reading about all of this, I have simply adjusted my schedule to making a quart every seven days.  It is an easy thing to adjust your schedule—along with the quantity that you make—so that you can maintain the viability of your culture.  

You might wonder why it was so important to me to be able to find a way to perpetuate my own yogurt culture. Why, one might ask, not just accept the fact that you will have to occasionally start over?  Well, the answer is that the yogurt I make seems to get better and better with each successive batch (this is probably one of the great advantages of an heirloom culture).  The first few generations of yogurt when I start from a commercial yogurt are always a bit milder than I would like.  I really like tangy yogurt and having to always start over would give me a continuous supply of mild yogurt, which is not what I want.  The yogurt I make also seems to get thicker with each successive generation.  Right about the time that the yogurt I was making had become thick, creamy and tangy was when I had my first failure.  I had no desire to go back to the mild, thinner yogurt of those first few batches. 

One final note:  I have no idea how rigid one has to be about consistently following an every five to seven day schedule.  It is probable that the yogurt you purchase to start your first batch will be more than five to seven days old.  And, I know from experience that the culture will remain viable for a few generations even if it is being made as infrequently as every two weeks.  To be honest, in August when I happened across the "every five to seven days" bit of wisdom, I was making yogurt from a store bought culture I had purchased in July and with which I had been following my haphazard—about every two weeks—schedule.  (If I were to guess, I would say that I was probably at about my third generation with that particular culture).  Instead of starting over yet again, I simply began making my yogurt every five days to see if I could reinvigorate my culture.  It was about two months ago when I transitioned into making it consistently every seven days.  I assume if I have to deviate from this schedule a bit in the future that my culture has become strong enough to be somewhat forgiving (I'm sure I'll find out).  In any case, I am extremely happy with the yogurt I am making now.  And you can be sure that as I learn and experience new things in my yogurt-making journey, I'll keep you posted (here, or on my Facebook page).

Here is the way I make yogurt now:
(I haven't changed my method too much over the past year—you can look at my first post for pictures)

Before you begin, gather the following:

a quart of whole milk (I use local, organic)

a tablespoon (15 grams) of yogurt (a commercial brand with live and active cultures or your own from a previous batch—no older than five to seven days)

a 3-quart saucepan

a candy thermometer and/or an instant read thermometer

a heat-proof rubber spatula

a ladle

a clean 1-quart jar (or 2 pint jars)

a clean insulated cooler.

Fill the cooler with warm water (115° to 120°), cover and set aside.  Place the glass jar in a 215° oven (after 10 minutes, I shut the oven off and open the door slightly so that the jar will cool down before I fill it—it's nice if it's still warm, but if it's too hot, it can kill the yogurt culture).  Place the tablespoon of yogurt in a small bowl and set aside.

Pour the milk into the saucepan, clamp the candy thermometer on the side of the pan and set the pan over medium-high to high heat.  Heat, stirring occasionally, until the temperature reaches 180° F.  Turn off the heat and let cool to 110° F (stirring occasionally).  I should mention that I have an electric stove.  Consequently, when I turn the heat off, the temperature of the milk continues to rise as the burner cools—often reaching a temperature of 200°F.  I actually think this is a good thing.  I remember reading somewhere (I don't happen to remember where) that holding the milk at (or slightly over) 180° F for a few moments will help firm up the milk proteins, which will in turn help produce a thicker yogurt.  I have no idea if this is true or not, but allowing the milk to heat to 200°F (over the cooling burner) and then cool down more slowly than it would if I actually removed it from the burner has worked well for me—my yogurt is nice and thick.

When the milk has cooled down to 110° F, ladle a small amount into the bowl with the tablespoon of yogurt and stir with the rubber spatula until completely smooth.  Add more milk until the yogurt is of a pourable consistency.  Pour this mixture back into the warm milk (scraping with the spatula to get all of it) and stir well.  (I have learned since my last post that this is called inoculating the milk.) Pour the inoculated milk into the prepared jar and seal the jar (screw on the lid or put on the rubber ring and clamp the jar shut).  Place the jar in the cooler filled with warm water, adding or removing water so that the level of the water is even with the level of the inoculated milk in the jar.  (I actually always pour the water out that has been keeping the cooler warm and start with fresh warm water...simply because my cooler doesn't do a great job of keeping the water warm enough and I want to start the yogurt culturing process no lower than 115° to 120°--I use my instant read thermometer to check the temperature.)

Close the cooler and let the yogurt sit undisturbed for at least five hours.  At the five hour point you should have yogurt. It will be obviously set (tilt the jar slightly to check—but don't jostle it too much). The longer you allow it to stay in the warm water, the sharper the yogurt will taste. I prefer mine at about six hours, but you can let it go even longer. 

Remove the jar from the cooler.  Dry the outside of the jar with a towel, open the jars and wipe the condensation off the inside of the lid.  Place the yogurt in the refrigerator and let it cool with the lid off.  When thoroughly chilled, close/cover the jar.

Printable Version

Update, Summer 2018:

In mid-June, out of the blue, my almost five year old culture died.  I was very sad about this.  There was something very satisfying about having learned how to sustain a culture...and having done it for so long.  Furthermore, the yogurt I was making had just gotten better over the years.  It was tangy (store bought yogurt--even Dannon, the source of my original culture-- tasted bland by comparison), thick and creamy...every time.  It was a source of a daily "I can't believe I get to eat something so delicious for breakfast!" thought.

I wish I knew why it died.  I can only assume that I got the water in my cooler too hot.  There was a final batch that was able to reproduce one generation of yogurt...but no matter how many times I went back to this batch to make a jar, the jar I produced wouldn't set another batch of milk.  Someone with more knowledge of these things could probably tell me what happened.  I admit that my schedule had been a bit wobbly due to lots of travel for family graduations...but I was never more than a day outside of my 7 day window.  The only other thing that happened, is that I left the the last viable batch (that was able to reproduce), uncovered in the fridge for almost 24 hours by accident (I have always been very good about closing it after just a few hours once it was cool).  Perhaps this had an effect.

Oh well.  Since there was nothing to do but start over, I did.  I decided to try a few other starter cultures to see if I liked the result better than Dannon.  I tried Strauss Family Whole Milk Plain.  This was very good--thick and tangy.  It had a slightly different flavor profile (almost like buttermilk) than the Dannon.  I like the Dannon better.  I also tried the Bulgarian Heirloom culture from Cultures for Health (mentioned above).  I was not a fan.  Their products are very popular...and they have a good reputation...so I'm assuming my issue was that I have just cultivated a taste for whatever cultures Dannon is using.  So...I went back to Dannon....and am once again making thick, tangy and delicious homemade yogurt.

Over the five years I have been making yogurt I have made a few changes to my process.  I'm going to go ahead and alter them in the text above...but I'll mention what they are here.  I used to let my yogurt sit for about 5 1/2 hours in the warm water.  It is usually done in 5, but more time produces a more pronounced tangy taste.  I typically let it go for about 6 hours.  Occasionally I'll make yogurt over night--in which case it often goes for seven hours.

I also no longer bother to check the temperature of the water in the cooler at the mid-way point.  If I start it with a water temperature of 120°, it always stays warm enough to set the yogurt.  In the winter time the water temperature might dip below 100° by the end of the culturing period, but this doesn't appear to affect the taste or the set in any way.

Marbled Chocolate & Pumpkin Cheese Tart

Earlier this month I shared a recipe for a very old favorite—Marbled Chocolate-Sweet Potato Cake.  Today I'm posting a new recipe—Marbled Chocolate & Pumpkin Cheese Tart.  I suppose I should apologize for posting two chocolate marbled squash/sweet potato recipes in such a short interval of time.   But since they're a bit different in style from one another...not to mention that they are both desserts and both delicious... it probably isn't necessary.    As I pointed out in my other post, even though the cake makes a pretty nice dessert,  it makes an even better breakfast (or snack).  The tart on the other hand is pure dessert.  And depending on the mode of your festivities, either one would make a fine treat to serve your adult friends for Halloween...which, as it happens, is right around the corner.

Most readers after taking a quick look through the tart recipe will think that the tart filling bears a striking resemblance to a cheesecake batter.  And they will of course be right.  It is cheesecake.  I have just chosen to bake it in a large tart pan.  I've done this for a couple of reasons.  First, it gives me a wider surface area on which to display the marbling...a striking and attractive contrast of orange and deep brown. 


Secondly, it allows me to cut wider slices (which will also show the marbling off to advantage in individual servings) that aren't so large as to founder my guests.  I like cheesecake...but it is almost always served in portions that are way too large.  Most of the time it is impossible to eat a full meal and then enjoy cheesecake for dessert.  When made in a thin layer...as with this cheesecake, or as in the key lime cheesecake I posted this summer...it is easy to serve small portions that don't look miniscule.



 

The flavors in this cheesecake are especially nice.  If you have never tried pumpkin with chocolate, I would encourage you to do so (this tart would be a great place to start).  I love this combination...it comes up a lot in my baking.  Besides the similar pairing of sweet potato and chocolate I posted a couple of weeks ago, I wrote about  a favorite pumpkin chocolate chip bar cookie a couple of years ago.  Although, when it comes down to it, I don't think I love this combination because pumpkin (or sweet potato) is particularly good with chocolate.  Rather, I think that chocolate is enhanced by the spices that are almost always found in pumpkin dessert preparations: ...ginger...clove...cinnamon...nutmeg...etc.  If you like, you can test my theory by sampling chocolate in combination with some of these spices—without any pumpkin—in a delicious Chocolate Gingerbread that I posted several years ago.

I mentioned at the first that both of these desserts would be nice as a Halloween treat.  But they would also be a great addition to your Thanksgiving celebration.  Besides being good for breakfast, the cake would be a great way to greet hungry travelers...along with a hot cup of coffee...or tea.  Whereas the tart would make an excellent stand-in on your Thanksgiving table for pumpkin pie.  This is a particularly good idea if you think pumpkin pie is just fine...and you'll make it and eat it because...well...it's traditional....   but in your heart of hearts, you would really rather be having something chocolate.



 

 

Marbled Chocolate & Pumpkin Cheese Tart

Chocolate Cookie Crust:

6 oz. chocolate wafer cookies, finely ground (2/3 of a 9 oz. package)

1 T. granulated sugar

2 oz. (4 T.) unsalted butter, melted

Butter a 10-inch removable bottom tart pan.  Combine the crust ingredients until homogenous and press onto the bottom and up the sides of the pan in a compact even layer. Place on a baking sheet and transfer to a pre-heated 350° oven.  Bake until set—10 minutes.  Cool.

Filling:

1 c. heavy cream, divided

3 oz. semi-sweet or bittersweet chocolate, finely chopped

3/4 c. pumpkin purée (180 grams)

1 t. vanilla extract

1 8-oz. package cream cheese, room temperature

3/4 c. sugar

1 1/2 T. all-purpose flour, sifted

1/4 t. salt

1/2 t. ground ginger

1/4 t. ground cloves

1/4 t. cinnamon

1/8 t. nutmeg

2 eggs, lightly beaten



Place a third cup of the heavy cream in a microwave safe bowl or a small saucepan.  Bring to a simmer.  Add the chocolate and set aside for a few minutes.  Whisk until smooth.  Set aside.

Combine the remaining 2/3 cup of cream with the pumpkin and vanilla; set aside.

 

Briefly beat cream cheese to break up.  Beat in the sugar until smooth; scrape the sides.  Combine the flour, salt & spices and beat in; scrape the sides.  Add the pumpkin mixture in three additions, beating until smooth and scraping well after each addition.  Beat in the eggs, just until smooth and fully incorporated.  Scrape down the sides.

Scoop out one cup of the batter (about 240 grams) and whisk into the melted chocolate mixture.  Scrape the remaining pumpkin batter into the cooled crust, spreading out to form an even layer.  Using a large spoon, dollop the chocolate batter evenly around the pan (eight dollops around the perimeter, plus one in the center works well).


Using the tip of a knife, swirl the batter attractively.  It works best to do this in large curves, sweeping across the entire pan and curving back the other way in a smooth repetitive motion.  It is always better to do less marbling than you think it needs...the contrast in the colors will be more striking this way.
 



Bake the tart in a pre-heated 325° oven until just set—about 30 to 35 minutes.  The filling will soufflé up a bit around the edges but will still be a bit jiggly in the center. 



Cool to room temperature (about 2 hours).  Chill, uncovered, until cold (at least 2 hours, but cheesecake may be baked a day ahead). 

To portion, remove the sides of the pan and cut using a sharp, thin knife dipped in hot water (and wiped dry) in between cuts.  Serves 10 to 12.
 

Printable Recipe



 

Winter Squash & Rice Gratin

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leftover lunch...with a salad and an apple

 

Winter Squash & Rice Gratin

with Mushrooms & Leeks

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

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

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

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

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

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

1/2 c. chicken stock

1/2 c. Basmati rice

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

2 oz. coarsely grated Gruyère

Salt & Pepper

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Serves 4 as a side, 2 as an entrée.

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

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As a side with pork and salad greens

 

Marbled Chocolate Sweet Potato Cake

Last month I shared a recipe for one of my favorite autumn cakes.  Since I have posted many other favorite season-specific cakes in the past (rhubarb cakes in the spring...stone fruit in the summer...dried fruit and nuts in the winter...) it should come as no surprise that I would have more than one or two cakes on my list of fall favorites.  I have been making the cake I am sharing today for many years...so long in fact that the cookbook from which it comes (The Victory Garden Cookbook) is out of print.  It is made with sweet potatoes (which are coming into season right now), chocolate and spices....and it is simple and delicious. 

In character this cake is like a loaf cake or a tea bread.  It is moist with a fine, even crumb.  It slices beautifully into thin slices...or fat wedges.  I serve it as a dessert...but it is such a large cake there are always leftovers and it makes a pretty fine breakfast.  The slices freeze well too...making it appropriate for keeping on hand for a sweet something with afternoon coffee or tea.  The recipe directs you to bake it in a large tube pan (the type of pan used for Angel Food Cake)...but it can be made in two 8-cup loaf pans instead.  When I teach this recipe in my Winter Squash & Sweet Potatoes class, I always make the tasting cake in loaf pans.  It is easy to get a lot of  even, thin, tasting-sized portions in this form.  For this reason, the loaf style would also be perfect for a pot luck or a church coffee hour.

You might think that this cake could just as easily be baked in a Bundt pan, but I would not recommend this.  Even large Bundt pans will only have a 12-cup capacity.  This cake requires a 16-cup pan.  It may look like it will fit in your Bundt pan, but it will tend to want to overflow while it bakes.  Even if I happened to have a large enough Bundt pan, I would still choose to make this cake in a single tube pan or two loaf pans.  The exposed surface of the finished cake is an attractive, rustic coil of dark orange and deep chocolate brown.  Because a Bundt cake is always inverted for serving this marbled surface would be hidden from view.  Both the tube and the loaves are presented "right-side" up, so the pretty top of the cake remains on display. 

In all likelihood this cake will remind you of pumpkin bread.  But you shouldn't be fooled into thinking that it can be made with pumpkin.  It cannot.  If you have ever tasted plain roasted sweet potatoes and thought to mentally compare it with the flavor of plain pumpkin purée, you will know that sweet potatoes are naturally much sweeter than pumpkin.  The recipe takes this into account; there is not enough sugar in the cake to support pumpkin.  Since it is much more convenient to open a can of pumpkin than it is to go to the trouble of roasting and puréeing a few sweet potatoes, the temptation to do so is great.  But I know from experience that you will be disappointed.  Even with this extra step of preparing the sweet potatoes, this is still a very easy cake to make...and definitely worth that little extra effort.  

As with most cakes of this style, it really needs no special adornment....a sprinkling of powdered sugar is sufficient.  That said, there are many things that would compliment this cake nicely. A glaze of some kind would be good...either a simple powdered sugar-based glaze or a chocolate glaze.  A crème anglaise or a chocolate sauce would be delicious, too.  To be honest, I like it best served with a small scoop of ice cream.  I have served it with vanilla...and several years ago I discovered I like it with Ben & Jerry's Heath Bar Crunch.  This last time however, I made my own ice cream to go with it...a delicious espresso bean ice cream.  And I have to say I think this was probably the best combination yet.

  

Marbled Chocolate-Sweet Potato Cake

3 c. all-purpose flour

2 t. baking powder

2 t. baking soda

2 t. cinnamon

1/2 t. ginger

1/4 t. ground cloves

1/4 t. nutmeg

1 t. salt

1 c. walnuts or pecans—lightly toasted and coarsely chopped

2 c. mashed cooked sweet potatoes—about 18 oz. of purée (see note)

1 1/2 c. vegetable oil

1 1/2 c. sugar

1 t. vanilla

4 large eggs, at room temperature

4 oz. semi-sweet chocolate, melted and cooled

Butter and flour a 10-inch tube pan or 2 8-cup loaf pans.  Set aside.  Whisk the dry ingredients together.  Stir in the nuts and set aside.

In a stand mixer, using the whisk attachment, beat the sweet potatoes, sugar, oil and vanilla at medium speed until very smooth and glossy.  (Or, whisk by hand in a large bowl).  

Whisk in the eggs one at a time, making sure each egg is fully incorporated before adding the next.  By hand, fold in the dry ingredients and the nuts.  Scoop one third of the batter (about 21 oz.) into a separate bowl and quickly stir in the chocolate. 

Place the batters in the pan(s), alternating as for a marble cake.  

Then, with the end of a wooden spoon or the blade of a table knife, gently draw swirls through the batter to marbleize it.  Don't over mix or you won't have a marble affect—two, zig-zag passes through the pan should be sufficient. 

Bake in a 350° oven until the cake springs back and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean—about an hour for the loaves and an hour and 10 minutes for the tube cake.  Cool in the pan for 10 minutes before transferring to a wire rack to cool completely. 

Note:  You will need about 2 lbs. of sweet potatoes to produce 2 cups of purée.  Roast the sweet potatoes in a 400° oven.  Prick the sweet potatoes in several spots with a fork or paring knife and transfer to a baking sheet.  Bake until easily pierced with the tip of a knife, about 40 to 60 minutes—the potatoes will have begun to ooze a bit of sugary syrup when they are fully cooked.  When cool enough to handle, cut open the sweet potatoes and scoop out the flesh.  Purée in the food processor, or press the flesh through a sieve or mesh strainer.  A sweet, orange fleshed variety of sweet potato (like Garnet, Jewel or Beauregard) will give the best result for this cake.

 (Recipe adapted from The Victory Garden Cookbook, by Marian Morash)

 Printable Recipe

Espresso Bean Ice Cream

2 c. milk

1 c. coffee beans

2 c. cold heavy cream

8 egg yolks

1 c. sugar

pinch of salt

1/2 T. pure vanilla extract

4 t. very finely ground coffee beans (espresso grind)

Place the milk in a small saucepan.  Add the coffee beans to the pan.  Bring to a simmer.  Remove from the heat, cover and let steep for 1 hour.  While the milk is infusing, pour the heavy cream into a large bowl and refrigerate.

Strain the milk into a clean saucepan (discard the coffee beans), add half of the sugar and return the pan to high heat.  Place the egg yolks in a large bowl with the remaining sugar and salt and whisk until thick and pale yellow.  Take the bowl of chilled cream out of the refrigerator and place a strainer over the bowl; set aside near the stove. 

When the milk boils, temper the egg yolks by gradually whisking in about a cup of the hot milk.  Stir the tempered egg mixture back into the saucepan and place the pan over medium heat.  Cook, stirring constantly with a heat-proof spatula, until the custard is thickened.  (If you dip a spoon in the custard and draw your finger across the back of the spoon, a path will remain.  Also, an instant read thermometer will read about 170°.  The custard must be cooked beyond 160°, but must not go over 180°.)  Immediately strain the custard into the bowl of cold cream.  Stir in the vanilla.  Place the bowl of custard in a larger bowl of ice water and let cool, stirring occasionally.  Cover and refrigerate until deeply  chilled.

When ready to freeze the ice cream, whisk in the espresso.  Freeze the ice cream in an ice cream machine according to the manufacturer’s instructions.  Transfer to a freezer container and freeze for an hour or two—or preferably overnight—before serving.  Makes about 1 quart ice cream.

(Recipe inspired from The Perfect Scoop by David Lebovitz)

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