The Hungry Tiger

Take your salads to the next level, as your SEO consultant would have you put it.

This recipe here, from Yotam Ottolenghi's "New Vegetarian" column, has a trick in it that I have been using in all sorts of grain salads, pilafs, mixed roast vegetables, and other things of that room-temperature party dish variety. It is a fantastic secret-ingredient sort of thing that will make you feel like a wizard, it is highly generalizable, and I am drawing your attention to it because I love you.

The conditions: You have some dish of this sort, anything from the broad range of things you might call a "salad," or maybe something that would stretch the definition a bit too far. The main qualifying factors are (a) that it involves some non-homogenous stuff tossed or mixed together, (b) it is not to be served piping hot, and (c) you might conceivably want to squeeze some lemon or lime over it before serving.

The thing to do, and here I am partially quoting and partially paraphrasing from that linked recipe: Instead of just adding juice, take one or two or three lemons or limes (as you prefer). Use a small, sharp knife and trim off both ends. Then cut down the sides of the fruit, along their round curves, to remove the skin and white pith. Over a small bowl, remove the segments by slicing between the membranes. Squeeze any remaining juice over the segments. Poke your sharp knife in among the segment and cut them into small pieces -- say, thirds. Then add the segments and the juice to your whatever it is.

YES, this is more work than just squeezing a lime or two. But it is not much more work, if you have a suitable knife (it must be SHARP or you will be sad. I have a lethal little serrated fruit knife with a curved tip that works very well) and holy crow does it make things taste just like they would otherwise only magically extra amazing.

Fennel

I get infatuated with this; we go on a kick of that; suddenly four meals out of every five feature this thing or the other, where the month before it never crossed my mind at all. So we live in a succession of food eras, each characterized by a couple of distinctive flavors that run through everything, until they disappear from the market or we get distracted again. 

 

We are currently in a Fennel Period and a Grilled Lettuce Period. Grilled romaine is so two years ago, but it really is a pleasant way to fulfill simultaneously the desire for something warm and cosy and the desire for something light and salady, without faffing about with a pile of different ingredients. (You know how to make it already, but here's how I've been doing it lately: big head of romaine lettuce, cut in half lengthwise, rinsed, and shaken dry, cut side brushed with olive oil and sprinkled with salt, on a very hot pan for two minutes or so each side, until lightly charred and wilting -- then roughly chopped and piled on a plate with a little of the aged, thick sort of balsamic vinegar drizzled (vile word) on top.)

Fennel: also perfect for that late winter pushmi-pullyu of fresh springy things on the one side and warm roasty things on the other. The bulbs you know about. I made this Ottolenghi quinoa salad for a potluck last week, with quartered brussels sprouts in the place of the fava beans, and it was very good. Sliced very thin, it makes a swell winter salad, especially with apples; or you can slice it thicker, then steam it and dress it with lemon and red pepper oil a la David Tanis.

The new trick at our house, though, is making full use of the stems. Fennel is too big and awkward to fit in the fridge as it comes. So I lop the bulbs off and put them away separately, then trim off the frondy bits for garnishes or the compost bin. The stems, then, I chop up and keep in a container to toss in with everything. They are lovely. They may look a lot like celery, but I think their texture and flavor are much nicer and more interesting. I have been tossing a half-handful in with any pan of roasting vegetables, or stirring them into a pilaf, and it makes everything taste a little springier and a little different from the way it did last month.

If you really want to enjoy chopped fennel on its own merits, though, try Fennel Rice or Fennel and Eggs:

FENNEL AND EGGS

For two.

At least half a cup chopped fennel, mostly or entirely stems, as pictured above
About a quarter cup finely chopped onion  
Butter
3 or 4 eggs
salt and pepper

Beat the eggs lightly and season with salt and pepper. Saute the fennel and onion slowly in butter until transluscent and tender. Pour the eggs into the pan. Scramble until they are set the way you like them. Serve immediately. Hot buttered toast would not go amiss. 

--

FENNEL RICE

There is no reason why fried rice, which is ultimately a very basic and versatile approach to a very basic and versatile grain, has to be, or pretend to be, Asian. This makes a pretty, green rice dish that goes well with Italian, Spanish, or California-ish flavors.

I think it would be good as a side with salmon, but what do I know?

1-2 Tbsp. light-flavored oil for frying 
3/4 cup chopped fennel, mostly or entirely stems, as pictured above 
2 tsp. minced ginger 
2 cups leftover, cold rice, preferably long-grain   
1 egg, lightly beaten with 1 tsp. ground cumin
2 Tbsp. chopped flat leaf parsley  
Salt and pepper 

Put your large stir-fry pan over high heat. When it's hot, add the oil and swirl it around.

Keep the heat high and the food moving in the pan. Put the fennel in and cook for about two minutes, then add the ginger and cook for just a moment before adding the rice. Fry, stirring/tossing constantly, until the rice is heated through. Add the egg and cumin mixture. Keep things moving, so the egg just coats the rice and more or less disappears.

Remove from heat and add parsley plus salt & pepper to taste. My own taste says that you want to err on the side of more pepper, but maybe you disagree! If you have some of your fennel fronds around, you may as well chop them up and toss them in there, too: it's pretty. 

Links and things

Cooking Issues: Two hundred apples a day. I love apples, and want very very much to have this experience for myself.

Item: Steve is beside himself with delight that, after a brief breaking-in period in which it looked as if he would be deeply disappointed, the replacement gasket he tracked down for our leaky stovetop milk steamer has made it work again. Hooray!

3191 Miles Apart: Naomi's Quinoa Muffins. Since our house is all about eating quinoa all the time, I think I ought to give these a try.

Orangette: Oatmeal Pancakes. We already love making these in big batches to snack on. Because they're nice and hearty, and also delicious, the leftovers are very nice. For snacking, I like them naked or spread with a little jam, either cold or hot. For the latter, reheating in the toaster oven is the way to go.

Box Vox: Long Egg Packaging. I was familiar with egg presses that will turn your hard-boiled egg into a cube, but this is something else again. I don't even know what illustrative selection to quote. Just go and see it for yourself. (Thank you, Finn.)

Long-cooked broccoli and a grain and nut pilaf

This broccoli, from a recipe by Alice Waters, is not very photogenic, but it is a delicious new staple in our kitchen. We have been eating it once a week for the past month at least. It is easy to make out of a few ingredients, when you don't want to think too hard or do anything too elaborate, and when the vegetable options are limited -- say, in January. The texture is soft and pillowy without descending to pap, and even after being cooked all that time, it still tastes vivid and green (even if it looks rather pale and feeble).

Fresh lemon is absolutely required; don't bother if you don't have one on hand. 

We like it over a mixed grain pilaf, as you can see, and I've included a description of how I usually put these grains and nuts together, but it should be obvious that any number of things would do nicely in the same role: plain rice, noodles, couscous, kasha, farro, grilled bread... Not polenta, I think, unless you're recovering from dental surgery. It could also serve as a bed for something more substantial, like chicken or shrimp, if you eat those, or some kind of croquette.

Kibbe.

It occurred to me about halfway through my recent candy-making spree that I was going to want something to nibble on that wasn't just a wad of sugar and butter. 

Fortunately these lentil snacks are still delicious. Also, look at all those comments! People used to stumble across this place by accident. Amazing. It is a pity that all my site-moving antics mean that I have utterly lost the meager Google position I once had. Oh well -- no one's fault but my own, to be sure.

This version was truly a cultural mishmash, but still excellent. As the commenters on that old post observed, this is a very forgiving recipe. There was no tarragon, fresh or dried, in the house, and none of that Hungarian red pepper paste either. I left out the fresh herb component altogether and used about 3/4 teaspoon of pre-made Thai red curry paste in place of the Hungarian stuff.

I was also too lazy to form the traditional little ovals you see pictured in the original post. Instead I used a little scoop made for portioning out cookie dough, which had the additional advantage of leaving my hands clean.

Kasha and roast vegetables with lemon and spices

I wouldn't roast vegetables ahead of time week after week if I only had one meal I liked to make with them them. Here is another favorite, again good for using up leftovers or the sort of intentional "leftovers" I often produce on the weekends.

This warm sort-of-salad combines the cozy autumnal browns of roast vegetables and nutty kasha with bright flavors that ensure that you don't wind up with a plate of stodgy dullness. Even if you make it with the exact same set of vegetables you've used in the gratin I wrote about last week, I promise that it will taste very different; I would (and do!) happily eat both in the same week without feeling monotonous.

It has one specialty ingredient, preserved lemons. They are crucial to the lively, zingy effect. I recognize that not everyone has them in the house, but they're easy to make and not like anything else. That said, I suspect you could make a different, but equally distinctive, dish by using chopped green olives and plenty of lemon juice instead.

Roasted vegetable and grain gratin

Roast vegetables are good in themselves, and a surprising number of vegetables respond pleasingly to the treatment. Broccoli, cauliflower, parsnips, peppers, sweet potatoes, fennel, asparagus, carrots, green beans, onions, summer or winter squash, mushrooms -- any and all are delicious hot out of the oven, dressed only in olive oil, salt, and pepper. Roasted garlic scapes are outrageously good, and next spring you should be sure to make them in vast quantities. Roast eggplant is so delicious that I have pretty much given up on cooking it any other way; when I make dishes that call for fried or sauteed eggplant, I roast it instead (with plenty of oil - it's still usually less than it would soak up in a hot pan) and am never disappointed.



This last point raises the question: yes, what about roast vegetables as ingredients in more complicated dishes? When it is seven in the evening on a Wednesday, who wants to peel, cut, and roast several vegetables first, and then assemble them into something else? Not I. I do, however, very much like to reach into the refrigerator and mix and match from containers of several different vegetables that I thoughtfully roasted on the previous Sunday.

This gratin is good with nearly any combination of grains and vegetables that suit your fancy, though I would strongly urge you to include roast onions among them. What pleases your tastes and looks good to you at the market should be your guide otherwise. Add some greens, too, if you like, as I did in the batch shown in the photo. Cheese on top is good as well, though for some reason I seem to have skipped it in the photographed batch (foolish me), and it was still delicious.

Leftover grains work nicely here, and go with the theme of assembling pre-cooked elements into something else, though of course you can make something fresh for the occasion. I like using quinoa -- especially since I've started cooking it in the rice cooker -- or brown rice, or a mix of the two. Aside from the white sauce, which is the same one I use for baked pasta, quantities are very flexible.

"Inconvenient" granola

Two years ago I posted a recipe for "very good granola." That granola was indeed good. I ate it with pleasure and would happily eat it again. This granola, however, is better. It's a bit more trouble, but I don't think it actually takes more time. For one thing, that old recipe (like many others) involves toasting everything at a truly excruciatingly low temperature, which is unnecessary and takes forever.

In the interim, I have been convinced by this method if not quite those ingredients. I abominate sunflower seeds in granola and was also influenced by a New York Times piece a little while ago about the virtues of using olive oil and extra salt. And then, rather than mix in dried fruit at the same time as everything else, I add it to the bowl just before eating -- why not? That way you can choose something different every time, if you like. These days I am fond of dried cherries and Persian green raisins, which are beautiful and have their own very nice flavor, not quite like any other raisins I've had.

I also claimed that the "very good" recipe made "a fairly enormous quantity" -- half a gallon, including the dried fruit. In light of the quantities of granola now gracing my kitchen, this seems slightly comical. The recipe here makes at least fifteen cups before the fruit gets involved at all. 

Pozole verde

This is one of the things you can do with all that salsa verde you just made. (Didn't you?) It's unfussy, lively-tasting but substantial, texturally pleasing, and most likely not something you can get just as easily at a nearby restaurant.

Posole or pozole is, I have been given to understand, the name of both dried, slaked corn (aka hominy, the same stuff that is ground up to make hominy grits) and of soup or stew made of that corn. You can get hominy ready-cooked in a can, or buy it dried and simmer it yourself, which takes some time but hardly any work, and the results are more delightfully toothsome and less can-tasting than the canned kind.

This recipe will make six servings of pozole verde on the more soup-ish end of the spectrum. As you can see from the picture, I opted for fewer servings of something more towards the stew end of the spectrum--easily achievable by the simple method of adding less broth--with plenty of cheese on top. I also threw in some chopped leftover kale, because we had it around. This was a success.

If you already have some cooked hominy and a batch of salsa verde, you can wing it, like so: Use about a cup of salsa for every four to six ounces (in weight, that is) of cooked hominy. You'll also want a splash or two of olive oil; some quantity of additional hot pepper, minced; broth; salt and pepper; and garnishes, which is to say cheese. Then it's all very simple: heat the oil and add the salsa, plus the extra minced pepper. Cook for about ten minutes, then thin with broth. Add the hominy and simmer at least until heated through. You can add leftover greens, or shredded leftover chicken, at this point, too. Add more broth if you want it soupier, cook longer if you want it to be thicker. Add salt and pepper to taste. See, simple!

Roughage! Revisiting oatmeal upma.

You've seen this picture before, I know, but hey, at least it's bigger this time. I have every intention of regaling you with tales and recipes of my Thanksgiving derring-do, but first, let me invite you to join us in observing Roughage Week.

If you're like me, the switch from your usual diet to a giant wodge of potatoes, cream, and similar holiday ingredients has left you feeling a bit... solid. The proper remedy, I feel, is a week of meals that don't necessarily comprise the most ascetic spa food, but that are calculated to make one feel a little bit less like an inert tuber oneself. In conclusion, roughage week makes the trains run on time.

This means that leftover pumpkin pie and coffee for breakfast will be just fine (hooray) but also that I might prefer a giant pear for a snack over a bowl of potato chips. And for tonight's dinner, a big bowl of oatmeal upma. A nice big spoonful of spicy achar doesn't hurt, either. More dinners on a similar theme to come.

Making lately: granola

Homemade granola is so nice and really very easy; all you need is an hour or so to hang around giving it a stir every so often, and your minimal labor is repaid many times over. It's also, of course, a great deal cheaper than store-bought, even if you use much nicer ingredients.

Well, I like to use dried cherries, which are pretty expensive, so it might come out to being only a tiny bit cheaper than buying a cheapish ready made variety, but this way you get lovely cherries! I'm thinking of getting some dried blueberries for next time and really living it up.

This recipe makes a fairly enormous quantity: about a half gallon, which really does go a long way, as granola is pretty darn filling. If you live in a small household, like ours, you might prefer to halve it. That's what I did this time, although I realized that I could just as well have made the full recipe and given half away. Oh well.

VERY GOOD GRANOLA

3 cups rolled oats
2 cups nuts (slivered almonds are nice, as are chopped cashews or chopped walnuts)
1/4 cup sesame seeds (optional but delicious)
3/4 cup shredded coconut
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/3 cup maple syrup
1/4 cup butter (You could use vegetable oil instead, but butter is awfully good)
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon, or vanilla extract, or both
1 cup dried fruit (say, dried cherries)

Get out 2 jelly roll pans, or sheet pans with rims, or 9" x 13" baking pans. Preheat oven to 250 degrees F. Mix the oats, nuts, seeds, and coconut in a very large bowl. Meanwhile, melt the butter and stir in the sugar, syrup, salt, and cinnamon or vanilla. Combine the two mixtures. Don't add the dried fruit; that comes at the very end.

Spread the mixture evenly over the two baking sheets and bake for up to an hour and 15 minutes, until the oats start to look toasty, stirring every 15 minutes to cook evenly. I find mine are usually done after an hour. Wash and dry your large bowl in the meantime. Remove from oven and transfer back to the bowl. Add the dried fruit and mix until evenly distributed. It won't be terribly crunchy when it comes out of the oven, but crisps up as it cools. Once it's completely, completely cool, transfer to an airtight container.

Oaty: Soup mix-in

Just a little tip, from me to you: a handful of thick rolled oats (not instant!) is an excellent addition to soups involving lentils. Lately I have been making many pots of soup that combine many lentils -- brown lentils, little tiny dark green lentils, masoor dal (aka red lentils), toor dal, and urad dal -- with oatmeal. (Also with the usual other things: onions, garlic, carrots, cumin, tomato, and a splash of vinegar.) The oatmeal adds body, of course, and retains just enough integrity to provide the tiniest bit of chew. Very nice.

By the way, you should really poke around the site that my "urad dal" links to, because it is full of such fabulous gems of prose as:

For us at Laxmi Toor dal, Picking up each grain is akin to picking up a diamond from a mine. Only the best Toor produce is acquired through our in-house international trading house. It is subsequently checked at our laboratory before the processing stage. It is the sheer expertise to identify and consistently procure the best grains from around the world, which leads us to offer an unmatched assurance of superior taste and nourishment in each grain that we produce.

Savory porridges: oatmeal upma

Piles of snow means working from home, and working from home means fresh hot lunches! As you can see from the photo, in this case the opportunity for fresh hot lunch meant a heaping bowl of savory oat porridge, once again based on the recipe from Mahanandi that I discussed in my last post. (My own version is written out below.)

It's a lovely combination of hearty, flavorful, and robust with soothing, gentle, and soft -- as Indira says, "a spicy, feed me more kind of mush."

As far as I know, combining the flavorings and methods for upma with oatmeal is her innovation, and S. and I agree that it is a very happy one. I'll surely be glad to make it just this way at the very least until we've used up our current bag of Bob's Red Mill thick rolled oats. But the degree to which I enjoy this dish has got me thinking about savory porridges, and the many that are native to the subcontinent and East Asia -- proper upma, congee, jook, okayu, what have you. I really should investigate these a great deal more than I have to date. Anyone have any favorite vegetarian recipes and flavor combinations in this vein?

PS. My little spam-preventing captcha thingy (the image with a number that the comment form asks you to enter) is broken at the moment, but should be fixed by the weekend. In the meantime (a) I'm getting spam on older posts, which is my own problem, but (b) you won't see any image. As long as that's the case, just leave the field where you would enter then number blank, and everything should go through OK.

Linkly thinklies

Awash in work, but here are a few things I want to remember that sound good:

Black bean couscous cakes I'd make them with quinoa, I think, and either the hash version, or with unvegan eggs to hold them together.

Mini crustless tofu quiches Not much like a quiche, there, but that's okay by me. I think I find the prospect a great deal more appetising if I don't think of this as faux something else. "Golden tofu vegetable rounds," perhaps? Sounds like a nice thing to have around for lunches.

Hare chane ki seekh (green chickpea kababs) Another nice thing to tuck into lunches, I'd think, and I have a bag of green chickpeas in the freezer. Upma (see also, or with oatmeal!) No farina in the house at the moment, or indeed ever to date, but that needn't stop me for long. A good venue also, I suspect, for onions from the bottomless jar of crispy fried Thai onions. UPDATE: Tonight I was inexplicably still hungry after a perfectly adequate dinner, so I made my own little version of Indira-of-Mahanandi's oatmeal upma, and it was fantastic, especially with mango and chile pickle. Mmm, so good. And certainly filling! I foresee that we will have this for breakfast in the future.

Quinoa salad, Fey's favorite pasta salad

Eating lots of quinoa salad lately. This involves first making a batch of quinoa (1 cup quinoa + 2 cups salted water) and letting it cool, then adding things like roasted red peppers from the jar, sweet corn, feta cheese, halved cherry tomatoes, basil, and so on, plus a vinaigrette and plenty of freshly ground pepper.

I'm also attracted to a recent pasta salad recipe along these lines from the New York Times: very similar, but with pasta, of course, mozzarella instead of feta, and the addition of slow-roasted tomatoes as well as the fresh raw ones.

You take the tomatoes, which conveniently can be subpar or over-ripe, cut them into 3/4" slices, brush with olive oil, and put them in a 275° oven for 15 minutes before turning it down to 200° and leaving it for another 4-6 hours. Then you chop them very very very fine, almost to a paste. Instead of a vinaigrette, you mix these tomatoes with equal parts (2 tablespoons each, in the original) of olive oil and melted butter, plus minced garlic. Sounds good, doesn't it?