Stuffed Squash

Earlier than anticipated, I’m already giving away produce.

One eight-ball zucchini plant produced her first little squash well over two weeks ago and the rest of them, obviously jealous, have been pumping them out to keep up. I had forgotten how productive summer squash can be once you pick the first fruit. The pale, tender green variety has been the most productive, but the sunny yellow and dark green types are catching up.

Either way, those sweet little orbs have made their way to friends and family. In our household, they’ve been cut into sticks to dip in hummus, halved and grilled, sliced and steamed, and as of last night, stuffed.

I first prepared cous cous then blended in Greek gigante beans in a light tomato base with a touch of garlic. I cut the stem tops off the squashes, hollowed out the inside, the slicked them (inside & out) with a little olive oil, garlic, salt and pepper. I quickly grilled them to blister the outsides and lightly sweeten the flavor while keeping the squash still firm. Once removed from the grill, I spooned in the cous cous mixture, topped them all with a final crunch of sea salt and a drizzle of olive oil, then served them with roasted red and yellow peppers fresh from the grill, which my husband chopped roughly and used as a garnish.

Squash aside, we’ve also harvested two pounds of wax beans and easily two pounds of Kirby cucumbers. Those barely make it to the table or into salads, as they’re just so crisp and delicious eaten whole while sitting on the patio, straight off the vine.

2 lbs wax beans @ $1.29 / $2.58
2 lbs cukes @ $.99 / $1.98
Conservatively, 5 lbs zucchini @ $.99 / $4.95
Many Salads of green & red looseleaf lettuce $2
Harvested: $11.51
Offsetting last “in the red” total of $23.37:
Still in the red by $11.86, but quickly closing the gap.

Ash Wednesday, Red Lentils

So it begins.

I served our first meatless meal of Lent and the family has survived.

I made a red lentil dal that I adapted from a Mark Bittman recipe in a recent edition of The New York Times. The actual recipe is below. I served it with white rice, a green vegetable, small salad and onion nan spread with garlic confit. My daughter kept all components separate, Mike put the dal over his rice, and I tried it both ways.

Considering all the snow we’ve had in the past ten days, the hearty bowl of steaming dal was a soothing and warming choice.

For now, it looks like fish on Friday.

Spiced Red Lentil Dal
The New York Times, January 6, 2010

2 tablespoons peanut oil
1 large onion, chopped
1 cup dried red lentils, washed and picked over
2 tablespoons minced fresh ginger
1 tablespoon minced garlic
1 tablespoon mustard seeds
2 cloves
1 teaspoon cracked black pepper
Salt
2 tablespoons cold butter (optional)
Chopped fresh cilantro leaves for garnish.


1. Put oil in a skillet over medium high heat; when it is hot, add onion and cook until soft, about 10 minutes; set aside.
2. Meanwhile, combine all remaining ingredients except the salt, butter and cilantro in a saucepan. Add water to cover by about 1 inch, and bring to a boil. Adjust heat so mixture bubbles gently, and cook, stirring occasionally and adding water if necessary, until lentils are tender, 15 to 20 minutes. Sprinkle with salt and more pepper and keep cooking to desired tenderness. Lentils should be saucy but not soupy.
3. Remove cloves from pan and add reserved sautéed onion. Stir in butter if you are using it. Taste and adjust seasoning, then garnish with cilantro and serve.


** Note: If you know how to develop flavors, you won’t follow this recipe to a T. Sauté your ginger and garlic in desired quantities, add lentils and coat, then liquid to deglaze. I respect Mark Bittman to some extent, but never fully follow his recipes. Vegetable oil is fine. And nix the cilantro, unless you're into it.

Lentils

First in the arsenal for Lent: Lentils.

Alliteration aside, lentils are chock full of protein, plus fiber and complex carbohydrates, and have been a part of the human diet since Neolithic times. They remain an important source of nutrition around the world. My father-in-law always said, “I love a woman who can cook lentils.” Over the years, as Mike and I have been together for 17 and married for 11 this year, I’ve come to learn what that means. To George, it’s his mother. She made lentil soup every Friday during Lent. Keep in mind that she had four children, plus a husband to feed, and extended family in Depression-era Pittsburgh. Everyone worked in the mills, sometimes just alternate weeks. Lentils are a poor man’s protein. I’m always honored to serve them to George, in any form.

Now, you know I always have French green Puy lentils on hand, year round, for warm dishes in winter and salads in the summer. They hold their shape and are infinitely useful (and delicious). I haven’t needed to bolster my supplies of those. The last time I hit Whole Foods, I purchased quite a quantity from the bulk foods section. I go there only a few times a year, mainly for grains and the like. I am the only person I know who can get out of there for under $20 and still have a full bag of groceries, including an esoteric cheese that might strike my fancy.

Next, I laid in supplies of brown lentils. You know the ones: a one-pound bag of little gray-green discs. Fortunately, my supermarket ran a special last week on Jack Rabbit lentils, my usual brand: 77-cents per bag, limit four. Yes, I bought four packages. They are a household staple, with lentil soup being a default lunch item for the week, made on a Sunday afternoon, or at night after the dishes are done. My five-year-old daughter has been helping me make lentil soup since she could toddle up to the kitchen counter while pushing a chair to stand on. If only her knife skills were at the adult stage – I’m honestly sure she could do it with her eyes closed at this point. My best friend adds ribbons of chopped spinach to hers, an Italian touch – and delicious. I can't believe I hadn’t thought of that. For other dishes, watch your cooking time. They can turn to mush easily. Make a pilaf with equal (or 2:1) parts white rice and lentils. Or toss them simply with a little red wine vinegar, garlic, S, P and Italian parsley.

Third, red lentils. They’re tiny, little things that don’t really hold their shape, but they can make a great Indian dal (warm, hearty), or be stewed with a cumin-cilantro-lime treatment then served over rice. The last time I used red lentils, they accompanied this sort of Cubano-pork dinner that I winged, geez, just too long ago. They were really good, to my recollection. I don’t always keep these on hand, but thought perhaps I should. I picked up a bag of Goya brand along with the Jack Rabbits, for good measure.

Finally, black Beluga lentils. I had completely forgotten about these! Over the weekend, I was at the Fairway that opened recently in our county, going in for one thing and coming out with much more. These shiny little black pearls jumped off the shelf and into my hand basket, seemingly out of nowhere. They weren’t on my list. They were tucked away near some organic chard and turnips (which were not on my list, nor did I buy them) – I was merely trying to find a clear path around and away from a crowd mobbing the bakery samples. It’s a great store, but it’s impossible to just zip in and zip out, much less stick to your list.

At any rate, they’re added to the lentil larder. They also reminded me of a curried black lentil soup that I make, which I haven’t served since I can remember. It is delicious and hearty – and will be one of the first meatless meals I make, guaranteed.

Try it – but start it in the morning:

One onion, diced
A good knob of ginger, peeled and minced
2 cloves of garlic, minced
2 tsp. curry powder
1 tsp. garam masala
1 tsp. cumin
salt & pepper
1 cup black lentils (1 ½ if you like it really thick)
4to 6 cups water and/or chicken broth combined
1 small chili pepper, chopped, if desired
A few tsps oil for your pot

Heat the oil and add the onion and ginger, cooking until soft, golden and fragrant. Add the garlic and the chili pepper if using. Stir and soften. Add the dried spices, salt and some pepper. Keep stirring; it gets a little sticky.

Add the lentils. Toss to coat. Add the broth and/or water. Deglaze and scrape up all the good bits. Cover and bring to a simmer for 2 hours. Black lentils really take their time. Check, taste, adjust seasonings. There are times you want more curry flavor – now is the time to be bold. Cook for at least ½ hour more, depending on the doneness of the lentils.

Meatless Meals

I’m giving up meat for Lent.

I’ve done that once before, but with less than perfect results. A few years ago, I realized that I was eating an inordinate amount of meat. It wasn’t on purpose, but it just grew into a habit. Every time I made a sandwich for my husband, Mike, I’d have a few slices of turkey, ham or whatever I was using. I would give my daughter a ham roll as part of a snack, and I’d end up eating two, three or more, loathe as I am to admit it. My default nibble at night seemed to always come out of the deli drawer of the fridge, or sliced off a leftover dinner roast, and a single slice or chunk of chicken would never do.

So I quit, cold turkey.

However, I didn’t “do it” right. After about two weeks, I found myself wandering aimlessly in the beef department of the supermarket – and I never buy beef – in a fugue state: I didn’t know how I got there or what I was doing, but I could not feel my arms, legs or head, much less stagger out of there and into the checkout line. I was starving and seeing double, standing still, staring at the blood-soaked packages, not even knowing how much time had elapsed. I ate meat two days later, lapsed Catholic that I am. That, and I gulped down a massive quantity of iron supplements.

But I want to try it again this year and announced as much last week, after scoring a ton of sardines in various sauces that were on sale at the supermarket.

Well, after a stellar dinner of a gorgeous filet of wild Sockeye salmon last night, served with sweet vinegared rice, edamame and salad, Mike proclaimed he wanted to give up meat for Lent as well. “Let’s all give up meat this year!” He was really into it.

“I can’t do that with her,” I told Mike, motioning my head toward our 5-year-old daughter, who was scraping up the last flakes of fish from her plate, then negotiating the skin.

She knows where meat comes from, and last night she asked why we had to kill the fish. She often asks why the chicken died. I tell her “We make our choices,” and don’t have to eat it. She will agree, then think, then completely renege and say she wants the meat, then repeats and repeats that she wants the meat, psyching herself up for dinner. And that’s fine. I wouldn’t expect anything different. I’m glad she’s a good eater.

I further explained to Mike that I don’t really know the bean-rice-lentil combinations and quantities to create that elusive “complete protein” I always hear vegetarians talk about. I don’t eat pasta, but they do, so maybe this could work. I then recalled to him the fugue state I entered each time I went to the store starving and practically cross-eyed three years ago.

“I have confidence in you. We can do it,” he said [i.e. I can do it, prepare the food in balance, and keep the Lenten promise going …]

Maybe we can. We go meatless probably more often than most American families, with an ever-evolving repertoire of grains, beans and any invented combination thereof. It’s definitely easier in the summer, when our garden produces all the produce we need to feed the neighborhood.

I’ve also had my run-ins with supermarket meat. And until a lapse last year for which I received 113 lashes, I hadn’t purchased industrial beef since I can remember.

But I obviously purchase meat and fish. I like it to an extent, and my daughter, since starting solid food, almost always eats her meat first. She (and I) also love organ meats, from hearts to livers. Although I exceed her age by a high 30+ [ahem] years, she’ll out consume me, hands down, when it comes to the innards. I will be preparing protein in various forms for her during the Lenten season. I’ll enjoy making a little something special and different for her, and she’ll feel like a big deal.

In the end, Mike also pulled back a bit, requesting only meatless dinners. The lunches I make for him to take to work usually involve a turkey, ham or other type of sandwich [Italian hero is a favorite, loaded with Coppa], although not always.

But for now, I need to do more than lay in extra supplies of tinned fish for myself: research, recipes, shopping (I’m out of both polenta and wheat berries) and planning are on the menu before Ash Wednesday arrives on the 17th. Fresh fish is costly, and I can’t shoulder that as a nightly expense.

I also hope this will bring a new spark of creativity to my kitchen. I’ll keep you posted.

Merguez Sausage

A few weeks ago, a page in the Dining In section of The New York Times caught my eye: it was all about sausages. I’m generally not a sausage person, and I’d never made sausages before, but the combinations featured in the article drew me right in. I just had to try. So, after Easter, what is usually on sale? Lamb. In all shapes and forms – but especially ground. Yes, I know why. But I purchased a 1.5 pound package and got to business on the Times’ Merguez recipe.

The process was easy, stuffing the casings was less so, and the results were tasty. But it was all of the little meze-like accompaniments that made the meal, at least for me. They came from the usual suspects: my head and the pantry. All items were basics on hand. And not a single element or assembly took more than five minutes. I had it the next night cold, assembled as a salad (right). Easy, fresh cooking. Ah, I can feel summer coming now.


Merguez Sausage
from The New York Times (I’ve grown to enjoy Melissa Clark’s column.)

½ t. cumin seeds
½ t. coriander seeds
½ t. fennel seeds (I omitted these)
1 pound ground lamb
2 T fresh chopped cilantro
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 ½ t. salt
1t. paprika
1/2 t. cayenne pepper

Toast the spice seeds until fragrant, then grind until fine.
Combine spices and remaining ingredients and mix very well.
Fill your sausage casings, or roll into sausage shapes or patties and chill until ready to cook. Garnish with fresh cilantro. Serve with lime wedges, as I did, if desired.

The sausages turned out milder than expected. You could easily ramp up the cayenne. I still also have a good amount left uncooked – stocking the freezer, you know. I plan to grill the sausages and serve them sliced as a quick and easy hors d'oeuvre next time we have guests over, doused with a little lime juice, extra sea salt and good olive oil. Or, since they are somewhat mild, I’d rather whip up a little tzaziki for dipping and switch lemon for the lime.

Pickled Red Onions
Cut one red onion in half lengthwise then slice it very thin. Combine equal parts cider vinegar and water in a pan. Add sugar and salt, a few peppercorns and an allspice berry. Bring to a near boil to dissolve the solids. Pour hot liquid over the onions and sprigs of cilantro (if desired for this dish.) Let them stew for at least an hour and serve. They’re good for a few weeks refrigerated, so double your quantities and use on sandwiches and the like.

Chick Peas
Drain and rinse well one 19-oz can of chick peas (garbanzo beans); place in a bowl. Add one clove garlic, minced or microplaned, the juice of one lime, the equivalent quantity of good olive oil, a tsp sea salt, pepper to taste and a big handful of chopped fresh Italian parsley. Toss and serve. Lemon in place of lime is also good.

Cous Cous
Yes, that last jar on my windowsill of grains has been filled for the season. Cous-cous is super quick and easy and uses the same 2:1 proportions as white rice. I recommend bringing to a boil 1 cup of canned chicken broth, 1 cup of water and a drizzle of olive oil. Take off heat, stir in 1 C. cous cous, cover and let steep for 5 minutes. Fluff w/fork and serve.

Serve any and all of the above with a green salad heavy on fresh sliced tomatoes. I also included mixed olives, warmed pita wedges and garlic confit for spreading.

Grains II

The far right jar on my windowsill is nearly depleted: I made rice pudding this afternoon. I also, as in the past, made my daughter promise that she will “never buy a box of pudding mix” in her life. A custard from scratch takes the same amount of simmering time, same amount of milk, but certainly doesn’t taste the same. From my head, I used my basic pastry cream recipe (1 C milk, scant 2 T cornstarch, 2 egg yolks, some sugar, vanilla pod; butter & salt whisked in at the end), and added extra milk for volume. The rice absorbs the rest. Arborio only, please.

My daughter oddly is not crazy about raisins in rice pudding, so made hers plain. However, I plumped some in Bourbon for my husband’s servings, folding them in at the end. I plumped way too many (and they were really moist and delicious) so I garnished the tops as well.

However, you know by now that I can never leave well enough alone. If you have a can of coconut milk in the pantry, try a 50-50 blend of milk and coconut milk for what I like to call “Coconut Crème Brulee Rice Pudding.” It also includes cardamom, and old-fashioned spice that I feel is underutilized today. But it adds both an exotic flavor and that je ne sais quoi that will leave your guests guessing – and asking for seconds!

Coconut Crème Brulee Rice Pudding

1 C Arborio or Calriso rice
2 C H2O, plus extra.

1 C Milk
1 C unsweetened Coconut Milk (not light), well shaken
2 egg yolks
2/3 C Sugar
2T Cornstarch
½ Vanilla bean, split & scraped
2 Cardamom pods (right)
1 generous pinch of salt.
2 Tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into bits.
Brown sugar (garnish)

Bring water to a bare simmer in a lidded pot. Add rice, place cover ajar, and simmer for 20 minutes, stirring and adding H2O as needed. Cook al dente, as you would risotto. Turn off burner, stir rice, then re-cover until ready to use.

Meanwhile, whisk together milk, coconut milk, cardamom, egg yolks, sugar & cornstarch in a pot. Turn heat to low, watch and whisk accordingly. This steeps the vanilla and cardamom pods gently and fully. The mixture will thicken slightly, then come to a bare bubble, and really thicken, so watch and whisk.

Whisk the salt and butter and into the custard. Add the cooked rice, whisking to prevent lumps.

Remove cardamom pods and vanilla bean with a spoon, then sprinkle a small bit of brown sugar into the bottoms of clear wineglasses or other decorative stemware. Ladle pudding into them. Sprinkle 1 teaspoon of dark brown sugar evenly over the top of each glass. The sugar will melt into a glaze over the top, and bleed into a caramel-y syrup to the bottoms of the glasses. Or you can simply do a true Bruleé over the top, if you have the torch.

Serve warm or chill. Refrigerate unused portions.

Variations, Notes:
For more cardamom flavor, scrape two of the pods over a Microplane rasp (being careful not to reach the inner seeds). Drop the pods and the shavings into the cooking pudding.

For more vanilla and less coconut flavor, use 1 1/3 Cups milk and 2/3 Cup coconut milk.

The egg yolks impart both a silken richness and a wonderful color, but may be omitted for a lighter end product.

Bourbon soaked raisin are an excellent addition.

If using salted butter, reduce the salt.

Grains I

Dinner in question, if you will? When in doubt, consult the sill.

The windowsill, that is.

I love grains, lentils and similar dry goods bought pre-bagged or in bulk. They’re cheap, they keep, they’re healthful and their possibilities are seemingly endless throughout the year. Need a side dish? You could eeny-meeny-miney-mo my windowsill for something new every time. Looking for a side salad? Put on your blindfold and reach into the overflow bag-o-beans and grains in the pantry.

In the winter, a warm pilaf of barley and rice, or rice with lentils, or, as below, lentils and barley is warm, hearty, healthy and delicious hot or at room temperature the next day for lunch. During the summer, a salad of fresh-picked vegetables and handfuls of herbs from the garden tossed with couscous or steamed buckwheat with a touch of lemon juice can be assembled in no time with incomparable freshness and flavor.

My standard windowsill set from left to right: long grain rice, polenta, French green lentils, barley, Arborio rice. In the summer, the far left empty jar is filled with fine couscous and the Arborio rice is replaced with wheat berries.

Also included in the grain larder (i.e. a big ZipLoc bag on the lower right shelf of a cabinet): farro, buckwheat groats, brown lentils, red lentils, split peas, all manner of dried beans, plus overflow for the windowsill jars and likely a few that I'm forgetting, or will find as a surprise whilst digging.

The other night, I put the French lentils to good use with an idea I’d had during the week to stretch the leftovers from a large roasted chicken. The meat was more like a garnish, which was my intent.

1 C French lentils du Puy
½ C pearled barley
1 C chicken stock
½ C water, or as needed
2 shallots, halved and thinly sliced
1 clove garlic, smashed but in tact
Thyme sprig(s)
2 good-sized potatoes of your choice, peeled and cut into a ½ to ¾ inch dice.

Sweat the shallots low & slow until they are very soft, golden and very sweet in butter, canola oil or a blend of both, with thyme and garlic added midway. Add lentils to pan, stir to coat. Add barley, stir to coat. Add S&P. Deglaze with a good splash of sherry (I used Amontillado). Once sherry evaporates, stir in stock and water. Bring to a bare simmer. Cover & cook for about 20 minutes, checking occasionally for dryness. Add water if needed, and re-cover.

Meanwhile, heat your choice of lubrication in a sauté pan. **Note: I had bacon fat in a small sauté pan left over from the morning and used that. I saved the drippings specifically to use in this dish. I recommend it here.** Toss in potatoes and brown on all sides. Salt generously to taste when they are cooked through.

Retrieve garlic clove and thyme sprig(s) from the lentil-barley mixture. Gently fold the potatoes through the pilaf to combine. Garnish with fresh chopped Italian parsley. S&P to taste. Stir to combine. If desired, slice and fan chicken over the lentils and sprinkle the meat with a good Sherry vinegar. Serve with salad and crusty bread with warm garlic confit. Serve same for lunch the next day [shown left, as taken to work], refreshing the parsley and vinegar, if desired.