egg season

As spring draws near the social calender fills up with semi-formal occasions; brunches, baby and wedding showers, Passover and Easter dinners, and graduation celebrations. The events tumble on until we can finally bust outside and start the party outdoors.

With new beginnings as the general theme of spring, my thoughts turn to eggs dishes. Eggs are the universal symbol of rebirth and immortality. They are part of a Seder plate at Passover celebrations and the central motif of Easter baskets. 

I usually start stock piling my egg shells this time of year, carefully blowing them out by pin-pricking each end and forcing out the contents with exerted breaths to preserve the fragile casing for decorative dying. This delicate task becomes monumental as the days to Easter get closer. I hate to have to blow out a large quantity at one shot - as I begin to tire the pin holes get larger and my cheeks begin to ache. The demand for eggs to dye shrinks and swells from year to year with the amount of children gathered in my home for the decorating activities.

This means having on hand a ready supply of recipes that require beaten eggs, to use up all the contents. An artichoke frittata is a simple dish that can be made ahead for a party- chilled, sliced and served as finger food.  Presented tapas style with a dollop of Romesco sauce, you have a perky and very tasty little morsel.

 Serve the frittata in bite sized pieces as a light nibble while sipping wine.

I recently can across this brilliantly blended white wine: Nautique Esprit de Blanc from Peconic Bay Winery on the North Fork of Long Island. The wine has a fresh fruity crisp flavor that is perfectly balanced, complex and fun to drink. It makes a very nice pairing for any spring meal. The jaunty label evokes a brisk breeze on the bay and it you find yourself yachting this spring, the artichoke frittata travels well.  

As a hardcore land lubber I will be sipping my Nautique from the comfort of home as I take a rest from blowing out egg shells, a task that gets me a little hyperventilated.

Artichoke Frittata

2 cups of artichoke hearts- they can be canned or frozen

6 eggs

1/4 parsley, finely minced

salt and pepper to taste

4 cloves garlic, finely minced

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 tablespoon butter

•If the artichokes are frozen, run them under warm water till thawed, and then drain. If canned, rinse under cold water and then drain. Chop the artichokes roughly into bite sized pieces. Add salt and pepper to taste.

•In a small bowl combine the eggs and parsley and whisk to combine.

•In a nonstick pan heat the olive oil on a medium flame, add the minced garlic and saute for about 2 minutes.

•Add the artichoke hearts to the pan and stir often, coating the artichokes with the garlic and oil. Continue to saute for about 7-10 minutes till the artichokes begin to get touches of brown spots.

•Lower the flame slightly and add the butter, allow it to melt down through the artichokes to the bottom of the pan

•Spread the artichokes evenly across the pan and pour the egg mixture over them. Allow the eggs to seep through the artichokes without stirring.  Continue to cook on a low even flame and let the egg mixture set. 

•Using a spatula gently push the edges of the frittata towards the center as it is cooking, continuing to allow the egg mixture to seep down through the vegetables. When the frittata seems to be well set on the bottom, get a plate the same size as the pan. Lay the plate on top of the frittata and quickly flip the frittata onto the plate. Gently slide the frittata back into the pan and allow it to cook until the egg is set on the bottom side, for another minute or two. 

•Slide the frittata out of the pan and on to a serving plate. Allow the frittata to cool to room temperature before cutting into small serving sizes. 

Sever 4-8 at room temp.

Goan treasures

Isn't it great when someone else does the cooking? My dear friend Ilene was eager to share some Ayurvedic recipes she had mastered on her recent trip to Goa, the small island state in India.

Ayruvedic recipes? According to one website I consulted:
 Ayu is life and Veda means knowledge. Knowledge of Life is Ayurveda. Pretty straight forward, no?

The basic concept of Ayurveda is to create meals that help balance our systems and encourage good health; all good things!

The stage is set for an evening of spectacular eating.

Ilene's cooking event was designed to showcase the amazing flavors of Goa with ingredients she had carefully stowed in her luggage and brought home. Most of what she served I had never seen before, but everything tasted beyond wonderful; oh, how fun to try new dishes!

 Pani Puri anyone? These cracker puffs were the first step of our appetizer. To prepare, you poke a hole in the center of the puff with your finger and fill it with a mixture of chickpeas, potatoes and spices.

Next, top each filled puff with a dollop of plain yogurt.

To finish, each puff gets a drizzle of tamarind chutney, cilantro chutney and a sprinkle of some type of topping that resembled crushed shredded wheat. The result was something unfamiliar, but delightfully tasty. Crunchy, savory and subtly spiced. A perfect meal starter!

 The recipe for this gorgeous cauliflower calls for a topping of raisins soaked in red wine vinegar, and then pureed with white chocolate and a hit of chili powder. 

The show stopper of the meal had to be the whole roasted cauliflower. I had never seen a presentation quite like this before. It is not strictly Goan or even Ayurvedic for that matter, but Ilene felt it worked nicely with her meal and it had the right amount of surprise and drama to impress. Indeed!

The dinner guests quickly dove in! Check out the recipe 

not exactly "easy" but certainly worth the effort.

 

 This red was perfect with the robust flavors of the cauliflower.

The wine, a delicious 2006 Chateau Cap de Faugeres Cotes-de-Castillon, was flowing and it was hard to keep up with the multiple dishes that kept coming out of this tiny Brooklyn kitchen. Ilene is a fearless cook who makes her guests feel pampered and cared for. We left the table smiling and more than satisfied. Perhaps even a bit more balanced and closer to good health too!

The cook of the evening emerges from the kitchen in SEQUINS! and we share a hug.

return to spice island

This past week I revisited the Caribbean island of Grenada, the beloved subject of a swoon-y blog post I wrote last year.

Grenada is a magnificent volcanic island dominated by an extensive rain forest and surrounded by crystal clear water.  This small, beautiful country is a visitor's paradise. The people of Grenada are kind and proud of their home, the weather is warm with cooling gentle sea breezes, the rolling hills are dramatic and the vegetation is lush.

 A bread fruit tree heavy with fruit grows in a front yard garden.

 

Tamarind grows all over the island.

Known as The Spice Island, Granada is famous for it's nutmeg, cinnamon and cocoa beans.

 These large coral colored cocoa pods are used in Grenadian chocolate and cocoa tea.

Almost everywhere you go on the island you are greeted by the fragrance of freshly ground spices. The Grenadian people are justifiably proud of their fertile land where everything grows in profusion.

Some spice crops of Grenada:

 Ginger root

 

lemon grass

 

annatto seed

I visited the spice and vegetable market in the harbor capitol of St. Georges on a busy Saturday and went crazy purchasing island specialties like the instant pain relieving spray made from nutmeg oil known as Nut-Med,  a product my husband swears by for his muscular aches and pains.

 The busy scene at the Saturday market.

 

A wonderful variety of root vegetables are part of the tropical cuisine.

Coconuts still in clusters cut from the tree.

It was hard to know when to stop shopping and within no time my basket spilled over with spice blends, jams, fragrant soaps, hot sauces and whole spices.

It is inevitable that all good things come to an end. Returning home last night I slunk past the customs official at JFK with my suitcase wreaking of Grenadian scents, hoping they would not feel like confiscating my chocolate bars and Tamarind BBQ hot sauce. This morning I surveyed my spicy loot and made a simple tribute breakfast to the warm, hospitable and deliciously welcoming Island of Grenada.

 My scent of Grenada breakfast: Toast topped with nutmeg jam, home fry potatoes seasoned with a Grenadian spice blend of sea salt, bay leaf, cinnamon and nutmeg and a batch of scrambled eggs jazzed up with a dash of passion fruit hot sauce.

A perfect way to extend the visit of a beloved place is to seek out the local condiments and give them a try. The defining aromas of a culture's cuisine can be captured in their spice blends and seasonings, giving an instant mini-vacation lift to an everyday meal. I leave a bit of my heart in Grenada every time I visit, but bring home equal measures of flavor and happy memories.

all in the crunch

The buds on my forsythia bush are starting to peek out, a sure sign of a change in season. Still, there is a long way to go before any local garden will be producing something to eat. Indoor amusements are getting me through these cold days.

With so little color in the landscape, these beets I had prepped for roasting beguiled me with their ruby striations. I grabbed my camera to capture their heart-shaped beauty, perfect for a valentine's day meal, if your loved one happens to be into beets. 

These golden beets, just pulled from the oven, retain their glow. It got my pulse racing a bit admiring these lusty root vegetables. So so pretty, but not my most favorite vegetable to eat, alas.

Sharing dinner this weekend with good friends at the cozy East Village restaurant Sorella, we were urged to sample the Broccoli Frito, a restaurant specialty our friends could not recommend more urgently. Sold! I am thrilled to try any dish so warmly recommended. 

The broccoli is doused in a hot pepper aoili and smothered with grated Grana Padano, the queen of Italian hard grating cheeses. The flavor of the dish was to die for, nutty, cheesy, with a fantastic spicy bite, but the killer tada! was the amazing crunchy texture that defied reason. The broccoli did not have a thick crust like tempura, and the vegetable itself was perfectly tender, but the resounding crunch, as if biting into a hard crouton, was somehow engineered into this little offering. I dissected a piece of the broccoli on the plate, searching for a clue, until our waiter graciously revealed that the chef uses rice flour to create the crunch. huh? cool!

So I am thinking, this could be done at home, no? I ransacked my cupboards today for rice flour, and found a bag of brown rice flour. Would the brown rice make a difference? I found other flour options while searching and thought, why not try them all and see if I can figure something out.

The flour contenders were: the brown rice flour, cornstarch, a gluten free flour blend, crushed rice chips and tapioca flour.

I mixed a bit of water into each flour to create a loose batter the consistency of infants baby cereal. 

 The gluten free flour from Bob's Red Mill is a blend of chickpea flour, potato starch, tapioca flour and fava bean flour.

Each flour absorbed the water differently so I had to adjust the liquid as I whisked the batters smooth.   A pinch of salt and a spoonful of grated cheese finished each batter off.

Next I cranked up my deep frier and prepped the broccoli. Oh this was going to be fun! Each piece of broccoli was dipped into a batter and fried for barely a minute. Out they came and the taste testing began. 

The brown rice batter had a soft crunch and a nice, mildly nutty flavor. Next up, the cornstarch batter came out with about the same level of crunchiness. The gluten free flour batter was the most "batter-like" and in fact tasted great, but it was a different experience than Sorella's crunchy masterpiece. The rice chips were a waste of time and the tapioca had such a non-flavor that it actually detracted from the flavor of the broccoli. I discarded the last two batters and tried the first three options again. 

I never got close to the astounding crunch offered at Sorella, but the brown rice batter had a pleasing flavor and is worth experimenting with further. The cornstarch batter is my old deep frying stand-by and there were no surprises here. The cornstarch does the job without interfering with the flavor of the food. The gluten-free blend was a nice option if you are going for a more obvious batter-like consistency and I will certainly use it when the occasion arises.

When the broccoli comes out of the frier smother it with more grated cheese. 

A deep frier can become an amazingly entertaining toy on a winter's afternoon. The conclusion of my trials is that broccoli tastes really good fried no matter what you put on it! I am fascinated to continue to uncover the mystery of the super crunchy broccoli and all suggestions are welcome.

of curds and whey

The air was cool and the smell downright stinky. But stinky in a good way! I was being led through a chilled cellar housing racks of ripening cheeses, each with a characteristic shape and color that delighted my eye and tickled my nose.

I was taking part in a tour of the cheese-aging caves at Murray's Cheese on Bleecker Street. As a belated  holiday celebration, the staff of Wellness in the Schools (WITS) was being treated to this cheese tasting and cave tour.
Cheese has always been something I enjoy, but not a subject I have extensive knowledge of. No one in my family really eats cheese except moi, so I hesitate to treat myself too often to bringing home a tempting hunk, knowing I will eat the whole thing myself.

When I put together cheese platters for catered parties I always seek out a knowledgeable cheese vendor and allow them to make the recommendations, a practice that has not lead me wrong.

Murray's qualifies as a serious cheese vendor. Their selection is extensive and mind-boggling, a feast of the senses.

The shop is packed with cheeses from around the globe, coming in amazing shapes and sizes, from the tiniest ashy grey geometric blocks, to pristine white smooth discs, to gigantic amber colored wheels.

Murray's further distinguishes itself by having a comfortably appointed classroom on the premises where ongoing classes are conducted in cheese making, pairings, and regional samplings. They also boast the elaborate set of caves in the basement where through climate control they age the young cheeses that are purchased directly from small producers.

Touring the cave was awe inspiring. Rack upon rack of colors and shapes are on display. I was impressed and fascinated by the bread-like textures of some of the molds that cover the surfaces of the cheeses. These molds are carefully cultivated to enhance the flavors of the final product.

After the tour of the caves we sat down to a tasting guided by the highly knowledgeable and friendly instructor Elizabeth Chubbuck. Our own chef mentor Bill Telepan graciously supplied the wine we sipped as we nibbled our way around the slab of slate offering six sample cheeses, starting with a silky burrata, and ending with a buttery rich Chiriboga blue.

Necessary accessories for a cheese tasting: good bread. 

Needless to say everything was out of this world. I loved all the cheeses we tried, but went head over heels for an uncooked, unpressed raw sheep's milk cheese from France called Ossau-Iraty (don't I sound knowledgeable?) with a deep sophisticated and rich flavor that stole my heart. The wine was an Italian white 2010 Abbazia di Novacella (Stiftskellerie Neustift.)  Delicious and round with lovely sweet notes, the wine paired perfectly with the cheese.

I am feeling somewhat cocky that I could now put together a fairly impressive cheese platter on my own, armed with my classroom notes and some willing fellow cheese eaters to share the spread.

Thank you WITS for an informative and most delicious afternoon!

celery takes a bow

Just as soon as I adjust to the inevitable cold weather, it gets warm again. As I begin to grow comfortable with balmy winter days, it suddenly snaps back to cold. Hard to know what to expect next. A sunny cold day this weekend had me wandering through Flushing Meadow Park ruminating on what to do with celery.
I had a an unexpectedly large amount of chopped celery on my hands, an overflow from a donation I had made as part of a cooking demo for school children that I organized with Wellness in the Schools, the non-profit I work for.

Bare trees say winter. Sixty degree weather says something else.

Celery, the true work horse of the kitchen is rarely a star in its own right, more an essential supporting player. It is the lifeline of mirepoix, the aromatic vegetable combo that is the base of all great French stews. Celery would be an unthinkable omission in countless soups and salads.  But what to do with several cups of already chopped celery was my current quandary.

What would potato salad or tuna salad be with out celery?

Several years ago I came across a line in the entertaining book Julie and Julia where the author Julie Powell, after cooking one of Julia Child's recipes reported that braised celery was "a fucking revelation." This comment really stuck in my imagination. I have to admit I have never cooked a dish of braised celery. But, despite the amusing comment, what is a revelation to Ms. Powell seems like a slightly less than inspiring venture to me.

I thought back even further to a recollection from early childhood of Campbell's cream of celery soup, served on sick days by my attentive mother. It was mild flavored, creamy and salty; a pleasant happy bowl of warmth for a child seeking comfort. Curious if this old fashioned stalwart could be updated I decided to give it a try.

Inspiration strikes in Flushing Meadow Park.

It would have been easy to give my soup a shot in the arm with the addition of curry powder, but I resisted that very strong urge, to allow the flavor of the celery to speak for itself. The results were quite lovely; a subtle flavor that was both fresh and sophisticated. This would be a nice soup to serve as a first course for an elegant dinner. I could not stop myself from garnishing the soup with a good dousing of jalapeno pepper sauce and it certainly did not hurt the final result.

Give celery a chance to stand on its own. I might try braising it next time and go for the revelation.

Cream of Celery Soup -adapted from a recipe on Epicurious.com

• 1 tablespoon butter
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 5 cups chopped celery
• 1 medium onion, chopped
• 1 cup white cabbage cut into 1-inch pieces
• pinch of salt and pinch of sugar
• 1 potato, peeled, cut into 1 1/2-inch pieces
• 2 garlic cloves, peeled
• 1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
• 1 1/2 quarts chicken or vegetable broth
• 1 cup whipping cream
• hot sauce, to taste

Melt butter and oil in heavy large saucepan over medium heat. Add celery and onions and cabbage, a pinch of salt and a pinch of sugar. Cook until very tender, stirring occasionally, about 15-20 minutes. Stir in potato, garlic and pepper. Add the broth; and simmer until all vegetables are very tender, about 20 minutes.  Add cream and simmer a few more minutes stirring often. Thin with more broth if necessary. Season with salt and pepper. Ladle into bowls and garnish with hot sauce if desired.

peppers in a pot

Occasionally I find myself with a surfeit of a particular ingredient. This time I was facing the weekend with an abundance of red bell peppers, ripe and ready, but with no place to go. My first step was to roast them, to concentrate their flavor and take advantage of the natural softening of the peppers as they begin to age past the point of serving them crisp and raw.

Going at the roasting in the most direct manner possible I fired up my gas topped stove and piled the peppers in an elaborate balancing act over the open flames, turning them with tongs periodically so that all sides became blistered and black. This is a slightly messy procedure but it was fun to engage in this primitive cooking method from the comfort of my warm kitchen on an icy snow day.

Once blackened I plopped the peppers in a pot and covered them (you could use any container that holds them all) allowing them to steam to room temp, helping the skins loosen and slip off when rubbed by hand.

What to do with all the roasted peppers was the next question. Romesco sauce, a Spanish sauce featuring paprika and almonds that gets pureed in a food processor came to mind. The Romesco sauce recipe I found on the La Tienda web site did not, in fact, call for roasted peppers. I decided to use my peppers anyway, substituting them for the tomatoes in the recipe and then more or less following the rest of the instructions from there.
True to my intrepid inclinations I made a few more substitutions to La Tienda's perfectly nice recipe. I urge anyone interested to try their version straight up. But, if you decide to go off the path a bit as I did, I am here to tell you the results may be equally wonderful!

 Garlic, chilies and almonds all part of a classic Romesco sauce.

For example, the classic recipe calls for almonds and hazelnuts. I did not have hazelnuts so I doubled up on the almonds. AND not just any almonds but some spiced ones (the last of the amazing spiced almonds my brother-in-law gave me for Christmas.)
The recipe also calls for a slice of toasted bread. I decided to throw into the mix a half cup of panko bread crumbs instead.

 Romesco sauce makes a great dip for crudite.

My wayward concoction was quick to assemble once I got the peppers roasted and peeled. The flavor of the sauce came out beyond expectation. Rich, smokey, complex and very tasty, with a gentle crunch from the nuts, I will be eating this sauce on top of everything all week.

Visit LaTienda's site for their great authentic recipe and enjoy!