Last Night’s Dinner

In the days leading up to our departure from NYC, Mike and I were keeping a very close eye on Lucy’s Greenmarket Report to monitor the anticipated arrival of asparagus at Union Square. We were hoping we could get our hands on some before the move, and one recent day we mentioned our asparagus watch on Twitter. One friend was a little confused as to why we were making such a fuss - after all, asparagus is in supermarkets year-round, isn’t it? She’s right, of course, but as Mike replied to her with a smile, “we’re snobby locavores.”

Now, I don’t know about the “snobby” part (and I’d hope we’re not actually snobs), but the whole exchange really made me realize how much our way of eating has changed over the last couple of years. Buying supermarket asparagus doesn’t even occur to me anymore, even in the dead of winter when I’m desperate for it. It just tastes better in the springtime, when it’s in season and grown close to home, and I’m happy to wait for it and then indulge until I can’t bear looking at another fat green stalk.

Though we moved away before our favorite New York area farmers brought their asparagus to market, we scored a big bag of Rhode Island asparagus at the market at AS220 on Saturday. I pulled out the thickest ones for grilling Saturday evening, figuring I’d save the rest for a meatless Monday dinner. By Monday evening, the warm, sunny weather we enjoyed all weekend had turned to wind and rain, so something rich and creamy was in order.

I chopped up my remaining asparagus spears and some fresh chanterelles (sorry, not local), and sauteed them in a bit of butter. I seasoned them with fresh thyme and gently stirred them into a pot of my basic risotto, adding about half a cup of creme fraiche and some finely grated Pecorino Romano off the heat to finish the dish.

The mushrooms were a lovely foil for the crisp-tender asparagus, and the risotto was a wonderful carrier for both. As the weather warms up and asparagus season continues, I look forward to lighter and simpler preparations, but this was a fine way to renew my acquaintance with an old friend.

(Interesting reading on local asparagus here.)

In another lifetime, I was all about celebrating St. Patrick’s Day. There were far too many black and tans at the Gaelic League, “shaking my shamrock” with my best girl at the Old Shillelagh, big boiled dinners of corned beef, cabbage, carrots and turnips, but honestly, I’m just not that into it anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a fan of Irish food, drink and music, but I prefer my celebrations on the quieter side these days.

Still, I decided to cook up something green, a simple potato and leek soup with fresh watercress just wilted in and the whole thing pureed right before serving. It was inspired by the soup on Suzanne Goin’s St. Patrick’s Day menu in Sunday Suppers at Lucques, and I had originally planned to serve it with her “Gentleman’s Relish” toasts but in the end I went simpler and made cheddar and chive toasts instead.

I’m not sure if it was because I’m fighting off the cold that my darling husband is trying to share with me, but this didn’t quite hit the mark. I kept adjusting the seasoning, adding a bit more salt, a splash of wine vinegar, and finally whisking in a blob of sour cream (which, of course, decided to separate), and while the end result was okay, it wasn’t delicious. That being said, I’m having some of the leftover soup for lunch today – hopefully the flavors will have improved overnight.

A week or two ago, my friend Kelly Sue asked for a split pea soup recipe. I told her about my version, and it occurred to me that I hadn’t actually made a pot of split pea soup in far too long. I knew there was a bag of split peas lurking in the back of the cupboard somewhere, so I resolved to dig it out and cook a batch of soup for our meatless Monday dinner.

This is not a “recipe” per se, but rather the basic method I use for most of the bean or legume soups I do. I always start with a base of onion and carrot, diced and sautéed in your lipid of choice (generally olive oil or butter in our kitchen). Since I had the last of a bunch of celery in the crisper, I chopped that up and added it as well. The chopped veggies go into the hot fat in a large heavy-bottomed pot with a pinch of kosher or sea salt, then cook over medium heat until they are beginning to get tender. If you want to add garlic, do so now and let it go for just a minute until golden and fragrant, then and add your split peas (or lentils or soaked beans or canned/drained/rinsed beans). Add a bay leaf and a few sprigs of fresh thyme and cover with liquid. The amount of liquid will vary depending on how many peas/beans/whatever you use, and how brothy you like your soup – I used five cups of homemade chicken stock to my 1.5 cups of dried split peas. Vegetable stock, canned or boxed broth or even plain water all work well.

Cover the pot, reduce the heat to low and simmer until the peas/beans/whatever are tender – about 45 minutes to an hour, in this case. Fish out the bay leaf and thyme stems, taste and adjust the salt if necessary. At this point I generally add a dash or three of hot sauce, and since I wanted a little hit of acidity to balance the earthiness of the split peas, I splashed a couple of teaspoons of sherry vinegar into last night’s version. If you want to guild the lily even more, a dollop of crème fraiche added at the end is lovely.

Some people like pork in their pea soup. If that’s what I want I generally go with pancetta, half a pound, thick-sliced, diced into about 3/4- to 1-inch pieces and sautéed in a small amount of olive oil before the onion and carrot go into the pan. The rendered pancetta fat then becomes part of the cooking fat and gives a subtle porky flavor to soup.

As with most soups, a green salad, some crusty bread and a nice glass of wine (or three, if you’re glued to coverage of the latest political scandal while dining) are all you need to round out your meal, and the flavor of the soup is even better the next day.

Life is flying by right now, with plans being finalized, dates being nailed down, reservations made and notices given. It’s a really exciting time for us, and looking at the photos of what will be our new home, thinking about furnishing it, decorating it, and taking our new kitchen for a spin puts the biggest smile on my face, but I have to admit that at times, it’s a bit overwhelming. I mean, there’s still our life here to consider – work and errands and keeping up with friends, trying to cull and pack and still find time to do the things we want to do before we say goodbye to New York City for a while. I’ve fallen behind on email and blog reading, and this week I have even had a heck of a time getting up the energy to deal with dinner. I mean, we shopped, I wrote up a meal plan, it’s all mapped out but honestly, what I’ve wanted to do more than anything is to just sit out on the stoop or in the back yard with a glass of wine, breathing in the early spring air, absorbing the sights and sounds and smells of what has been our home for the last three and a half years.

The March issue of Gourmet sat unread on the sofa for days before I finally tossed it into my tote bag in frustration, vowing that I would make time to crack it open on my commute home from work. When I finally did I found about 15 things that I wanted to cook pretty much immediately, but the recipe I couldn’t wait to show Mike was for an Onion Tart With Mustard and Fennel.

Teamwork meals have been working well for us lately, and this was no exception. Mike prepared the tart dough according to the recipe and I riffed on the filling, caramelizing three baseball-sized red onions and one large bulb of fennel, all sliced thinly, in a mixture of butter and olive oil. I added some fennel seeds that I had ground in a mortar and pestle, as well as a teaspoon of dried Herbes de Provence. I did spread a layer of Dijon mustard over the tart dough as in the Gourmet recipe, and when the tart came out of the oven after baking for half an hour I sprinkled some fennel fronds on top.

The crust was spectacular – it cooked beautifully and evenly, and it was light and buttery. Mike was delighted at how well it turned out and how easy it was to put together, and he’s already thinking of variations on the theme. I was pleased with the filling, too. I loved the bite of mustard under the caramelized onion and fennel mixture, though I think I might use a soft goat cheese next time instead of the parmesan – the flavor got a little buried under the layers of fennel-y goodness. But overall, this was a win, and the crust is definitely something we’ll pull out again and use with whatever is in season.

After the long week we had, I was really feeling the need for some inspiration, so on Saturday morning Mike and I headed into the city to do a food safari. After brunch and a quick stop at Uva to pick up a good bottle of wine for our Valentine’s Day dinner, we went into the city to go to the Greenmarket at Union Square. With Mike working so close I don’t go there as often as I used to, so I was anxious to see what sort of treasures we could find at the winter market.

I was delighted to see Yuno’s Farm there on a one-off winter appearance. They weren’t selling a wide variety of things, but I was immediately drawn to these beautiful young mustard greens with their spiky green and violet leaves (which reminded me of a Disney villainess). I filled a bag and moved on, already beginning to change my plans for our meatless Monday dinner.

By the time we finished our shopping, we had a beautiful selection of root vegetables, grass-fed Angus fillets and pork sausages for later in the week, and those beautiful greens. We headed home with our bounty, ducking in to Essex Market to visit our favorite cheese goddess, and I revamped our meal plan for the week.

Since my recent experiments with roasting beets have been so well received, I decided to roast them again along with some multicolored potatoes and carrots and Silver Queen turnips from Windfall Farm. I tossed my roasted vegetables with a mustard vinaigrette and placed them on a bed of our mustard greens, then topped them off with a poached egg.

I was pleased enough with how these salads came out - they were certainly pretty to look at and the texture of the roasted vegetables and creamy egg worked well together - but I would have liked a little more flavor contrast, perhaps from a bit of sharp or tangy cheese or a punchier vinaigrette. This is definitely a dish we’ll have again.

I’ve been playing with recipes for meatless chili for some time now, trying to develop one that will become my go-to version. This black bean chili has come closest so far, though it still needs a bit of work. I used fresh mushrooms to approximate the texture of ground beef in the dish, and I was pleased with the result, though I think next time I’ll try a coarser grind. While this dish still needs some tweaking, it was very, very good, and is going to make great lunchtime leftovers.

I’m going to keep working on this one, and when I get it right I’ll post a recipe.

It has turned into a bit of a busy week at Chez Dietschyblossom, which has meant that our dinners for the last few nights were fairly quick and uncomplicated. We’re meeting up with friends for dinner tonight, which means I probably won’t be back here until Monday, but I’ll get you caught up on our last couple of dinners:

I’ve had this recipe for Hazelnut & Chard Ravioli Salad bookmarked for a while, and I based Tuesday night’s pasta dinner on it – a delicious mix of red chard sautéed in olive oil with a bit of garlic and fresh thyme, roughly chopped hazelnuts, grated Parmagiano Reggiano and a bit of butter which I then tossed with Gorgonzola ravioli. It was a winning combination of flavors and textures, and a dish which I’ll definitely keep in our repertoire.

I didn’t quite hit the mark with Wednesday’s dinner of sautéed wild striped bass with a Meyer lemon and green olive relish. The fish itself was fine, but the relish was slightly too bitter. I tend not to add sweeteners to my food, but I wonder if a bit of honey might have balanced the flavors out, or perhaps using a fruitier variety of olive. At any rate, I’ll keep playing with the relish recipe – I did like the flavors of the Meyer lemon and herbs (parsley, dill, chives and mint) with the fish.

I’ve got my annual post-holiday lunch date with one of my bosses today which should provide me with lots of inspiration for future fish dishes – we’re going to Le Bernardin, which I’m positively giddy about. I’ll be sure to report back. Have a great weekend!

Since the day I watched the presumed-dead-but-very-much-alive Emily Sloane preparing it for dinner in a remote Tuscan villa, ribollita has seemed like a very romantic dish to me. I have a soft spot for peasant-style fare anyway, and what could be cozier than sharing a dish based on beans, bread and hearty greens with your (hopefully not evil) beau?

Maybe it captures my fancy since it isn’t really ribollita until the soup itself is on its third day, reheated or “reboiled” with bread, leading a girl to wonder what distractions led to the soup not getting eaten on day one or two… a little too much wine and canoodling in front of the fire, perhaps?

In any event, when the weather turns cold and I’m looking for ideas for hearty meatless dinners, my thoughts often turn to ribollita, but my soup never quite makes it to that third day. It’s funny how a soup so simple, a mixture of onions, garlic, carrots, celery, parsnips, beans, tomato paste, kale, herbs and water, a combination you wouldn’t think would taste like much, can turn into something so sublime. Sure, a parmesan rind in the soup helps, as does a liberal slather of pesto on top of crusty peasant bread in the bottom of the bowl, but really, the earthy beans and kale are the stars of the show. For such a substantial and hearty soup, it’s amazing how quickly and easily it goes down, dashing my hopes for a proper reboiled version.

Maybe we just need a fireplace.

I like raw celery.

Specifically, now that I know what super-fresh celery that wasn’t trucked or flown over hundreds and thousands of miles to my local grocer tastes like, I like raw celery. It’s a revelation, really. I mean, I’ve always cooked with it – it’s one of the building blocks of so many dishes, after all – but the thought that I would actually see a recipe that features celery in its raw state and decide that I had to make that dish, immediately if not sooner, well, that’s something new.

It doesn’t hurt that the recipe also features pomegranate, one of the few fruits I truly love, and bulgur, an item I always have in my pantry but forget about unless I’m making tabboule, but the celery, those thin slices of crisp green goodness, the celery is what really made this dish sing for me.

I of course switched things up a bit from the original recipe, but the idea was the same, and the result was a beautiful mix of textures and flavors, earthy, bright, crunchy, sweet, tart – simply delicious and simple to make. The salad is substantial enough to stand alone, but I served it alongside lemony roast chicken breast. We loved the combination of flavors so much that we shredded some of the leftover chicken into the remaining salad for lunches this week.

Bulgur, Celery and Pomegranate Salad
Adapted from Heidi Swanson’s recipe on 101 Cookbooks

For the dressing:
1 garlic clove, mashed to a paste with coarse sea salt
1/4 cup freshly squeezed Meyer lemon juice
1/4 cup best quality olive oil

For the salad:
1 cup medium or coarse bulgur
1 small bunch celery, leaves trimmed, stalks sliced thinly on the bias
1/2 cup pomegranate seeds
1/2 cup walnuts, roughly chopped
1 cup picked flat-leaf parsley
1 cup picked fresh dill

For the dressing, whisk all the ingredients together until emulsified. Taste and add additional salt if desired, then set aside.

Put the bulgur in a large bowl and just cover with boiling water. Allow the bulgur to sit about 15 minutes – it will be soft but still have some bite to it. Add the celery, pomegranate seeds and walnuts, pour the dressing over and stir to blend. Add the parsley and dill and gently stir through. Taste and adjust seasoning if necessary.

Ahhhhh.

Finally, the ick is gone, the holidays are behind us and it’s time to move forward. I love all of the rich food, the fancy drinks, the fun and indulgence of the holiday season, but I think I look forward even more to the paring down that takes place afterward. While I’m not one for making resolutions or declaring that I’m going to set out to lose some magical number of pounds, I do like to lighten things up a bit this time of year – rebooting my system, in a sense, with clean flavors and simple preparations to restore a bit of balance.

For our dinner last night, I wanted to use up a few little odds and ends we had around, in particular some bread cubes left over from our New Year’s Eve fondue. Bread pudding was my first thought, but I wanted something lighter. I thought back to a few recipes for bread and garlic soup that I had read, and decided to try my hand at a version of that – it would be warm and satisfying but not too heavy, just the thing for a blustery night.

I began by warming about six cups of our homemade chicken stock with four fat cloves of garlic, peeled and smashed. I minced a fifth garlic clove and added it to my zip-top bag of bread cubes, drizzling a bit of olive oil over and mixing the bread around until they were coated. I placed the bread cubes on a sheet pan and baked them in a 375 degree oven until they were crisp and golden – about 10 minutes – then I sprinkled a little coarse sea salt on top and set them aside. I added a teaspoon each of smoked paprika and sherry vinegar to my hot chicken/garlic stock, seasoned it with salt and pepper, and let it continue to simmer away while I poached a couple of eggs. To assemble the dish, I placed some of the bread cubes into bowls, ladled the hot broth over them, slid a poached egg into each bowl and topped them with a bit of finely chopped basil.

This soup may sound a bit austere, but it was anything but a plain-Jane meal. The yolk of the egg when broken and stirred through added just the right touch of richness and a velvety mouthfeel, and our broth was made even more bright and flavorful with the addition of the vinegar and paprika. I would have liked the garlic flavor to have been a bit more pronounced, so next time I’ll add another clove or two to the broth. All in all, I was pleased – this was a satisfying, tasty and restorative dish.