Shoulda Coulda Woulda

I meant to post again last Thursday, I really did.  I had the same intent last Friday.

But the weekend?  Forget about it.  Shabbat dinner at a friend's, work, bridal shower, concert, preparing a large tea party that turned raucous and went on for four hours, followed by collapsing in exhaustion.

The reality is that David and I are going on vacation in two weeks, and I don't have enough hours in the day.  And let me tell you, mama needs a vacation.  I'm already dreaming about a cappuccino in a Roman piazza.  And some gelato.  Not to mention wine and pasta.

I can't believe it's been a week since I posted the Thomas Keller "easy" seared scallop recipe, which I served with a vividly colored, lemony, spicy rice.  The rice was the perfect accompaniment, and had the virtues of being both easy and fully flavored.  I happily ate rice leftovers for days.  The one thing I didn't get to do was make it into fried rice with some shrimp, which would have been delicious.

A note about this recipe:  I was not trying to make enough rice for a family of giants, which is about how much it actually made.  You could easily scale it back to half a batch and have enough for four side servings.

It does make brilliant leftovers, though.  I might have scowled a little when I realized David had eaten the last of it.

Lemony Spiced Rice
Adapted from Bon Appetit Magazine,
April 2012

2 tbsp. vegetable oil
1 1/2 tsp. yellow mustard seeds
1 1/2 tsp. ground turmeric
1 small yellow onion, coarsely chopped
2 garlic cloves, slivered
1 small poblano, seeded and sliced into thin rings
2 cups jasmine rice
4 large strips lemon peel, yellow part only
Juice of one large lemon
2 tsp. kosher salt
1/2 cup unsalted roasted cashews, chopped

In a large (and I do mean large!) heavy saucepan over medium heat, heat the oil just until shimmering and immediately add the mustard seeds and turmeric.  Stir until the mustard seeds start to pop and quickly add the onion, garlic and chile before the seeds start to pop out of the pan--not that that happened to me, noooo.

Stir the veggies occasionally until the onion is softened, about seven minutes.  Then add the rice, stirring it into the veggies until it is coated with the oil. 

Add the lemon peel and salt, along with three cups of water.  Bring the mixture to a boil, then reduce the heat to low and cover the pan.  Cook for about 25 minutes and then check the rice for doneness.

Remove the pan from the heat, add the lemon juice and stir it in.  Cover the pan again and let it stand, then fluff the rice and remove the lemon peel.  Just before serving, stir in the cashews.

Makes 8 good size side dish servings.



The Brigadoon of the Vegetable World

I am obsessed with sunchokes. 

Sunchokes, Jerusalem artichokes, whatever they are--and I'm still not totally sure, since the definition in my beloved Larousse Gastronomique that my brother-in-law Philip gave me for Hannukah a couple of years ago is maddeningly vague--I love them.  I want to write haikus to them, or perhaps a symphony in praise of them.

All right, I'm getting carried away.  The fact is that sunchokes are fairly ugly little brown tubers and pretty much unavailable in Alaska.  When I saw them in the list of possibilities for the CSA box that arrived this week, I was at least smart enough to order double of them. 

I can only remember eating these little critters a couple of times, and the last was about four or five years ago.  They're the Brigadoon of vegetables, at least in Alaska (as an aside, extra love to anyone who gets that reference).

They are hellish to peel, which the Larousse does say, and to which the small gash on my left middle finger can attest.  However, they were heavenly to eat.  The flavor is deep and rich and earthy, slightly starchy and reminiscent of really good mushrooms. 

I'm particularly proud of this recipe because I made it up on the fly on a night I didn't expect to be home.  Essentially, it's puréed sunchokes stirred into a basic risotto.  But the flavor?  Anything but basic.  I might have swooned.

Sunchoke Risotto

1/2 pound sunchokes, peeled to the best of your ability and cut in 1/2" cubes

1/4 cup 2% milk

3 tbsp. olive oil

2 1/4 cups arborio rice

1 cup dry white wine, divided

4 cups chicken stock

1 leek, white and pale green parts only, chopped

1 shallot, chopped

2 peperoncini peppers, crushed

3/4 cup finely shredded Parmesan

Truffle or kosher salt to taste

Freshly-ground black pepper to taste

Heat a medium-sized pot of water to boil, then add the sunchokes.  Boil for approximately 20 minutes or until fork-tender.  When the sunchokes are cooked, drain them and transfer to the bowl of a food processor.  Pulse the sunchokes briefly, then drizzle in the milk and one tablespoon of olive oil.  Pulse again and taste, adding pepper and a little salt.  Then process until the sunchokes are silky in texture, like mashed potatoes without the lumps.

Pour the stock and 1/4 cup of the wine in a small saucepan and warm over low heat;  this will need to stay warm for the entire process.

Heat a large skillet or saucepan over medium heat.  Add two tablespoons of the olive oil and heat until shimmering.  Add the leek and shallot and cook until they are lightly browned, then add the rice.

Stir the rice well for several minutes, until it is coated with oil and gets slightly toasty.  Then add the remaining 3/4 cup of the wine and cook until it is almost incorporated.  Add the peperoncini.

Add the broth/wine mixture in half-cup increments, stirring constantly so the rice doesn't stick.  After two additions of broth, add half the sunchoke mixture and stir well to combine.  Add another two additions of broth, add the remaining sunchokes.  Incorporate another cup of broth and taste;  you want the rice to be al dente and may not need the additional broth.

When the rice is the desired texture, remove the pan from the heat and stir in the cheese, plus salt and pepper to taste.  Truffle salt really complements the sunchoke flavor, if you have it around.

Makes about four main course servings;  would serve six for a side.

Southern Comfort

It's really excellent when you can begin a new year by not working for a couple of days, although it is a rude shock to come back to the office.  Today I've been writing a brief for a big mediation later in the week, answering e-mails and generally re-acclimating myself.  It was a lovely three-day weekend, but now it's time to pay the proverbial piper. 

I rarely talk about work here because 1) much of what I do is confidential and 2) I work in a very low-drama office considering that we're a group of litigators.  I work with nice people who do their work ethically and generally try to rebut what most people think of lawyers.

But anyway...the three-day weekend meant lots of cooking, including one of my favorite New Year's traditions, Hoppin' John.  I'll give a shout-out to Ramona over at Curry and Comfort, because she's the only other blogger I saw posting about this traditional Southern dish--hers is a fantastic-looking version flavored with and colored by curry.  It looks absolutely delicious, and it's a great take on the original dish.

Black-eyed peas are eaten on New Year's Day for good luck, and this dish marries them with long-grain white rice in a way that mimics the traditional Monday dish of New Orleans, red beans and rice.  Although the black-eyed peas are typically cooked with a ham hock, I have substituted a spicy chicken sausage that keeps the dish pork-free while still being in the same spirit as the original.

New Year's Day Hoppin' John
Inspired by a Recipe from epicurious.com

1 yellow onion, coarsely chopped
1/2 yellow bell pepper, diced

1/2 orange bell pepper, diced
4 cloves garlic, chopped
2 bay leaves
2 tbsp. olive oil
3/4 lb. chicken link sausage, casing removed and coarsely chopped
2 peperoncini peppers, crushed
1 1/2 cups dried black-eyed peas, washed and picked over
1 cup long-grain white rice or jasmine rice
3 cups water
3 cups chicken broth
Kosher salt and fresh-ground black pepper, to taste

In a large saucepan, combine the water, stock, bay leaves and black-eyed peas.  If any peas float to the top, discard them.  Bring this mixture to a boil, then reduce the heat so the peas simmer.

After the peas are on, heat a medium skillet over medium-high heat.  When it is hot, add the olive oil and allow it to warm before adding the chicken sausage and onion.  Fry the onion and chicken sausage until they are lightly browned.  Add the onion-sausage combination to the pot with the black-eyed peas.

Using the same skillet, lightly brown the bell peppers.  When they are soft, add the garlic and cook for an additional minute.  Add the contents of this skillet to the pot with the black-eyed peas.

At the half-hour mark, taste the peas for seasoning and add salt and black pepper as needed.  Crush two small peperoncini and add them to the pot.

When the peas are fully cooked and tender, which should be about an hour, add the rice to the pot.  Cover the pot and cook for an additional twenty minutes or until the rice is fully cooked, adding a bit of additional broth if more liquid is needed.

Once the rice is cooked, remove the pot from the heat and allow to sit for another ten minutes.  Just before serving, fluff the mixture with a fork.

Serves 6.  We served it with a green salad and popovers--the popovers weren't a perfect match, but David was craving them since we didn't have them at Chrismukkah.

And the Crowd Goes Wild (for Arancini)

Happy new year to everyone!

Like most people, I will be eating more salads and upping my exercise to get over the excess of the holidays.  The jeans still fit, but I know I've eaten too many bad-for-me foods over the past two weeks. 

But before I head into healthy-recipe season, I want to share the last of the fried recipes from Chrismukkah dinner.  To say these were crowd-pleasers is an understatement.  They disappeared just as quickly as I could set them out.

This recipe is ripe for experimentation, and you could make it with other varieties of risotto.  Just make sure to keep the mozzarella cubes small enough to pop in the middle of the rice balls, and after experimenting on the size I recommend keeping them about the size of ping-pong balls.

Arancini di Riso (Deep-Fried Risotto Balls)

Adapted from Lidia's Italy in America by Lidia Bastianich

5 cups low-sodium chicken stock

3 tbsp. olive oil

1 medium yellow onion, finely chopped

2 cups Arborio rice

1 cup dry white wine (I used pinot grigio)

1/2 tsp. truffle or kosher salt

1 tsp. fresh-ground black pepper

1 cup frozen peas, thawed

1 cup fresh Parmesan, finely grated

12 basil leaves, chopped

4 oz. fresh mozzarella, cut into small cubes

1 cup all-purpose flour

2 large eggs, beaten

2 cups fresh bread crumbs, toasted

Vegetable oil for frying;  enough to have an each deep in the frying pot

Heat the chicken stock over medium heat in a small pot;  keep warm on the stove.  In a medium saucepan, heat the olive oil.  Then add the onion and cook until lightly browned.

Add the rice to the onion, and toss to coat the rice.  Add the wine and bring the pot to a simmer. 

Add three cups of the chicken stock, the salt and pepper.  Bring the pot back to a simmer, stirring frequently until the stock is absorbed.  Then add the remaining stock in two installments and cook until the rice is al dente.  You will want to use all the stock.

Stir in the peas, then spread the risotto out on a baking sheet and allow it to cool to room temperature.  When it is cool, add the cheese and basil and fold to combine.

To assemble the arancini, wet your hands and take a quarter-cup of rice at a time and roll it into a ball.  Poke a cube of mozzarella into each and patch with a little more risotto to cover if necessary.

Prepare the breading station by putting the flour, eggs and bread crumbs into bowls.  Heat vegetable oil in a large deep pot;  make sure the oil doesn't exceed 350 degrees. 

Roll the arancini in the flour and shake off any excess.  Then dip the ball in egg and roll it in bread crumbs.

When all the arancini are assembled, add them a few at a time to the oil.  Fry until a deep golden color, turning them over with a wire skimmer to ensure they're browned on all sides.

Drain the arancini on cooling racks covered with paper towels.  Makes about 30 arancini.

Manic Monday

Ah, Monday.  I can always tell when it's Sunday afternoon because I feel instantly less relaxed and begin preparing for the eventuality:  Monday's coming.

I've talked about starting rehearsals for a play I'm directing called "Inspecting Carol," a mash-up of "Christmas Carol" and "Noises Off"--a small professional theatre company's trials and travails putting on an underrehearsed production of "Christmas Carol" in light of National Endowment for the Arts funding cuts, actors behaving badly and sets falling apart. 

I always feel nervous when I start directing a show.  If it doesn't come together, I'm ultimately responsible because it's my job to be the leader.  (My low point yesterday was when I whined at my husband "Why do I have to be the leader?"  The logical response would be that I have directed a dozen shows, but David knew better than to try logic).  This all gets much better, mind you, when rehearsals actually start.  Anticipation is a killer.

Yesterday afternoon, in advance of our first rehearsal, I combated my stress by cooking.  What started as a slow-cooker chicken chile verde morphed as I realized I didn't have all the ingredients I needed.  Instead, it became a smoky, flavorful and healthy soup of chicken chunks, Guajillo pepper flakes and onion, served over rice.  In other words, the perfect take-to-work lunch.

My lunch, sitting on the chaos that is my desk.

The recipe originally called for a can of minced jalapeños and their juice.  I used a whole dried Guajillo pepper, pounded in my mortar and pestle, which added the smoky flavor but not much heat.  It takes a couple of minutes longer, but I would recommend using either a good dried pepper or fresh poblanos, depending on what you have available.

Slow-Cooker Guajillo Chicken Soup
Adapted from Slow Cooker:FoodMadeFast

3 lb. boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut in 1-inch cubes
1 large dried Guajillo pepper, pounded in a mortar and pestle
2 cups chicken broth
2 tbsp. rice wine vinegar
1 large yellow onion, diced
5 cloves garlic, minced
1 tsp. dried oregano
1/2 tsp. dried fennel seeds


Look at the pretty new backsplash!

 1 tbsp. hot sauce, plus more to taste
Salt and fresh-ground black pepper to taste

Sour cream, chopped cilantro and white rice, for serving

In the pot of the slow cooker, add the chicken breast chunks and sprinkle the pepper over them.  Then add the broth, onion, oregano, garlic and fennel seed.


Here it is just going into the slow cooker.  Not so appealingat this point--it gets better!

Set the slow cooker to cook for four hours on high heat.  At the halfway point, add the hot sauce and vinegar and taste the broth.  Add more hot sauce or vinegar if it needs more heat or acid, plus salt and pepper to taste.


Now that's a better color.  The soup took on the color of the pepper, along with a hit of color from the hot sauce.

Serve over rice with the sour cream and cilantro.  If you have lemon or lime wedges on hand, serve on the side for squeezing over the soup.


There's no added fat in this soup;  to keep it healthy, I served it with reduced-fat sour cream.

Serves 6 as a main course.

Going with the Grain: Saffron Rice Pilaf

When I moved to Alaska eleven years ago, people asked "Are there any Jews up there?"

The answer is yes, but not many.  There are two synagogues here, one reform and one conservative.  Both have rabbis who are well-liked in the community.  I belong to the reform synagogue, and admittedly I'm of the twice-a-year variety of Jew. 

The second day of Rosh Hashanah is not a major service, as demonstrated by the 35 or so of us there this morning.  There is something homey about a service with that few people, though--the rabbi made us all squash together in a few rows and take on various parts of the service.

I love Rosh Hashanah.  I love the food, the music, and the sense that for the next week anything is possible because it's a new year and we can atone for the less-than-stellar things we've done in the year before.  Religion is a wholly individual thing and I don't want to dwell on it here, other than to say that while it's been a tough week, it was nice to have time to reflect this morning.

This post is the last of the Rosh Hashanah recipes I've been testing for the last week.  It's a simple rice pilaf colored and flavored by saffron, which went great with the roast chicken with apples and onions posted last week.  It could also perk up the coloring on a simple plate of grilled fish.

I love the vivid coloring of this dish.

Saffron Rice Pilaf

Adapted from Joan Nathan's Quiches, Kugels and Couscous

1/4 tsp. saffron

3 tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil

1 yellow onion, chopped

1/2 cup shelled pistachios

1 cup long-grain white rice

1/4 tsp. nutmeg, freshly grated if possible

1 bay leaf

1 tsp. salt

2 cups reduced-salt chicken broth

Fresh-ground black pepper

Place the saffron in a small bowl with two tablespoons hot water, and set aside.

While saffron is ridiculously expensive, you need very little of it for this dish.

Heat all the oil in a large, heavy saucepan that has a lid.  Add the onion and sauté over medium heat until lightly browned.  Reduce the heat and add the rice. 

 

Stir the rice and onion to combine, and add the nutmeg, bay leaf, salt and broth.  Taste and add a little pepper--you can always add more later.  Add the saffron with its water and stir again.



I can't believe I actually had a whole nutmeg in the cupboard.  It came from a gift box I received from Penzeys.com, my favorite source for spices.

Bring the rice mixture to a boil.  After it reaches a boil, reduce the heat and cover the pot.  Cook for approximately 15 minutes or until all the liquid is absorbed and the rice is the desired consistency.  In the last few minutes of cooking, add the pistachios.

Remove the bay leaf and serve.  Makes 4-6 side dish servings.

Risotto alla Paesana, a/k/a Kitchen Sink Risotto

There comes a point where everyone has too many vegetables in their fridge and no idea how to use them.  Or maybe that's just me.

Until the much-discussed but not-progressing partial kitchen remodel happens, I have my current refrigerator, which I colloquially call "The Vegetable Murderer."

When we receive our CSA box every other Wednesday, it's always a scramble to use everything in the box before the Murderer gets to it.  I'm always looking for recipes to prevent mass vegetable homicide.

This risotto is adaptable to the vegetables that are gasping for survival in your refrigerator, or better yet, those you've found at your farmer's market or received in your CSA box.  In my case, the vegetables on which time was ticking were zucchini, mushrooms and celery.

Like many Italian specialties, this recipe involves very little meat.  Pancetta is the traditional ingredient, but since I bought some wonderful savory salumi at our local cheese store on Sunday, I used this instead.  If you can find Da Vino salumi, I highly recommend it.

The key to this risotto--and all risottos--is to take your time.  In homage to the Supremes, you can't hurry risotto.

Whatever you do, I beg of you, please do not skip the step of browning the rice--it adds an extra toastiness to the final product.

Risotto alla Paesana, a/k/a Kitchen Sink Risotto
Adapted from CIA Italian Cooking at Home

1/3 cup plus 1 tbsp. olive oil
2 oz. pancetta or salumi, sliced into small strips
3/4 cup chopped yellow onion
2 celery stalks, sliced
2 garlic cloves, chopped
2 1/4 cups pearl or Arborio rice
2 quarts chicken broth, warmed and sitting on a burner on low
2 bay leaves
1 1/2 cups peas, either fresh or defrosted frozen
1 cup zucchini
1 cup sliced mushrooms
4 tbsp. unsalted butter
1/2 cup grated fresh Parmesan

Heat all of the olive oil in a large pan (I used a Le Creuset casserole) over medium heat.  Add the salumi, onion and celery.  Sauté for approximately five minutes, then add the garlic and sauté for another minute.

Add the rice and stir until it is coated with the oil and toasty, which should occur within two minutes.  Add a pinch of salt and taste--the broth will add lots of salt later, so be sparing with the added salt.

Add the bay leaves and enough broth just to cover the rice.  Stir frequently, until broth is absorbed.  Add the mushrooms.  Keep adding broth by cupfuls as the previous addition evaporates, stirring constantly to ensure that the rice is not sticking to the pot.

While the rice is cooking, warm a large skillet and add two tablespoons of butter.  Add the zucchini and peas and sauté for approximately three minutes, until the zucchini is lightly browned.  When the vegetables are cooked, remove them from the heat and set aside. 

When the rice cannot absorb further rice, stop adding broth and add the zucchini-pea mixture.  Remove the risotto from the heat and stir in the last two tablespoons of butter and the cheese.  Stir until combined--the mixture will be a bit stiff, but this will make the risotto creamy.

Makes six to eight main-course servings.  David said this was "the best risotto" he'd ever had, but then he's biased.  We served the risotto with collard greens sautéed in olive oil and tossed with balsamic vinegar.

Wine pairing:  I recommend a full-bodied Italian white.  We had timorasso, which we bought in Pollenzo during our vacation this past spring.  Alternatively, pinot grigio or arneis would be delicious.

Misty Water-Colored Memories

I have the best memories of the risi e bisi I made in law school out of an old Food & Wine magazine.  Cue "Evergreen," a/k/a, the theme to The Way We Were, starring Barbra Streisand, an actress/singer I've never understood.  Risi e bisi is a classic Italian recipe, basically risotto with peas.  David makes risotto with a pressure cooker and, don't get me wrong, it's great, but it's not really Italian grandmother-y.  I love the standing and standing for forty minutes to get the risotto creamy and just perfectly al dente.

Risi e bisi is Italian comfort food, and with a pound and a half of fresh English peas sitting in my fridge and pouring rain outside (welcome, Alaskan August!), it seemed like the perfect time to break out the recipe from Italian Cooking at Home.  The flaw in the CIA's recipe, though, is that instead of stirring in small amounts of warm stock at a time, the recipe calls for you to dump a large amount of stock in at the beginning.  The poor rice never had a chance, and became ever so slightly soggy.  Unfortunately, the circa 1997 recipe from Food & Wine doesn't seem to be online, so here's the revised CIA recipe:

Risi e bisi
Adapted from Italian Cooking at Home

2 quarts chicken stock, homemade or otherwise
2/3 cup chopped yellow onion
2 1/4 cups arborio or long-grain white pearl rice
2 cups peas, shelled, preferably fresh
6 tbsp. dry white wine
4 tbsp. unsalted butter
1/2 cup grated parmigiano-reggiano cheese
chopped fresh parsley to garnish


Boil the chicken broth and keep it warm.  In a large pot, warm the oil over low heat and add onion.  Saute the onion over low heat without letting it brown, then add the rice, constantly stirring, until the grains become opalescent.  Watch out for burning.  Stir in the wine all at once and add the first dose of broth, about a cup.  Stir until the liquid is almost absorbed, then add by ladlefuls until the rice is just al dente.  You may have a bit of extra liquid.  The cooking should take about 20-25 minutes, but test the rice.  If it is too hard, add more broth and cook longer.  Whatever you do, don't let the rice get soggy!  There will be a little bit of brothy-ness to the dish.

When the rice is the desired consistency, pull from the heat and add the butter, cheese and parsley.  Season with freshly ground pepper and salt to taste.

Voila--classic Italian comfort food.  Serve with a dry, minerally white or rose.