Smoked Beet Vinaigrette and the Power of Play

In the past couple of weeks I have found myself in a bit of a rut. A culinary rut.  I kept scanning the kitchen for something that would satisfy my hunger and I kept coming up short. Then I realized that I have been cooking variations on a few themes as many of us do when we have busy schedules. It wasn't that I was bored of any individual ingredient but more that I craved a set of flavors that were different from my instinctual repertoire. Ordinarily in this situation I would turn to favorite food blogs or my overflowing book shelf of inspirational cookbooks, but instead I went for good, old-fashioned, blind experimentation.

I had a physics teacher in high school who used to make my blood boil in lab because nine times out of ten, when I asked him a question about how to do something he would smirk, shrug, and say, "simple physics, figure it out." It was so dismissive! So evasive! So TEACHERLY! I'd love to say that this method ended up working for me but I got an abysmal grade in Physics and to this day, really couldn't define "simple physics" for you because the two words are clearly mutually exclusive. That being said, Mr. Smirky Physics Teacher probably did nurture in me a more fearless approach to experimentation and trial and error, a practice on which I have come to rely heavily in cooking.

My first plan was to make a roasted beet vinaigrette with the couple of un-juiced beets wallowing in the corner of my fridge. So I roasted beets, got busy with something else and left the beets to wallow again, this time peeled and cooked and placed prominently on the top shelf of the fridge so as not to be forgotten. The next day, while waiting in an absurdly long line to get an expensive, pour-over coffee at my local market, I spied a curious item: Smoked Olive Oil. As a rule I really dislike olive oils that have been infused and stuffed with other things before being bottled and sold as a "dipping oil". But this intrigued me. It reminded me, suddenly, of a near perfect day in Barcelona, at a table with my family and a paella made from smoked rice. I bought the oil.

When it comes to salad dressings I am pretty much a purist. Sure, I'll dabble in the occasional novelty dressing, but in the day to day I gravitate towards simple vinaigrettes or even just a squeeze of lemon and a glug of good olive oil. In the spirit of play I decided to marry my roasted beets and my smoked olive oil and hope for a happy union. It took a lot of tasting and tweaking and you should know that the measurements in the recipe below are estimated at best. This is basically a non-recipe, recipe. I mean, you know, it's simple cooking......

Note: I used about 8oz of beets and went for a pretty chunky dressing that had more of a spread-like texture than a classic salad dressing. I had leftovers for days which I then mixed into quinoa, added to sandwiches, and used as a dip. You will want to play and experiment to see what texture and consistency you like best.

Goat Cheese Toasts with Bitter Greens & Smoked Beet Vinaigrette

serves a couple people as a lunch or a gang as a party snack

A few slices of dark, dense, seeded bread. Ideally this one

1-2 cups bitter greens (chicory, radicchio, dandelion)

Good quality chevre

A few small beets (4-8oz peeled)

Smoked Olive Oil

Rice Vinegar (or another mild vinegar you like)

Extra Virgin Olive Oil

Salt

Pre heat the oven to 425.

Peel the beets and quarter. If the beets are different sizes, try to get the pieces into roughly the same size so they roast evenly. Place on a sheet tray or in a roasting pan and drizzle lightly with olive oil. Roast until a fork goes evenly through the beet. About 40 minutes. Remove from the oven and let cool. This can be done a couple days ahead of time.

Once the beets are cool, place them in a food processor with about 6T of Smoked Olive Oil, 6T of regular olive oil, 4T of vinegar and a hefty pinch of salt. Pulse together until the beets are in small chunks or pureed. As I noted above, you will need to taste and adjust often to find the balance you want. It should be slightly sweet, bright with acidity and deeply smokey. Basically, you should want to eat it with a spoon. 

Once you have your dressing as you like it, roughly chop your greens (I used young radicchio, broccoli rabe, dandelion, and kale). Bring a saucepan of salted water to a boil and toss the greens in, turning a bit until they are evenly wet and wilted. Remove from the water with tongs and let drain in a colander over the sink. This can be done a couple hours ahead of time or even the day before.

When you are ready to eat, toast thin slices of the bread. While the bread toasts, toss your greens and the beet vinaigrette together. Taste the greens and probably add more dressing. When the toasts are ready spread each slice with chevre while still piping hot so the cheese warms a bit and top each slice with the dressed greens, a pinch of flakey sea salt and a crack of black pepper. Congratulate yourself for your courage in the kitchen and enjoy.

Maggie's Salad

Last weekend I had the privilege of being a bridesmaid in my friend Bree's wedding. Let me just say, in all my years of working closely with brides and more recently, seeing friends get married, I have never seen anyone so completely unruffled by stress on her wedding weekend. From the second I saw her Friday afternoon, through the hung over post-wedding brunch she was nothing but smiles, beautiful and beaming and clearly having the best weekend of her life. It was a joy to witness. An added bonus to the whole event was the reunion of some of my closest girl friends from high school. Cliche as it is, it is all too true that it does not matter how much time has passed, we drop right back in like we never skipped a beat. The only thing that has changed is each of them has become even more brilliant, more accomplished, wiser and stronger, sharper witted and bigger hearted.

The bittersweet side of the weekend was that I had to say goodbye to my man for a month. Pete's alpine climbing excursions have become common enough that you would think I would be used to saying goodbye. But while it gets easier, it is never easy and I was grateful that after saying goodbye to him in my dear friend Maggie's apartment I got to turn around and fall into a long, tight hug, and the same steady shoulder I have leaned upon, literally and figuratively, since I was 15 years old. After the bender of a weekend and my rattled nerves at sending my love into the icy mountains of Patagonia, I wanted something comforting and nourishing and simple. Salad. I know. It doesn't seem like comfort food but it was. It was as green as a salad can get, (as green as this one, also written about as a comfort food of sorts), and packed with all the things I had leeched out of my body with the weekend's festivities. The salad in and of itself is nourishing and nutritionally pious, no question about it. But the most restorative, nourishing part about it was making it and eating it with Maggie, weaving in and out of conversations covering every aspect of our lives, present, past and future.

There is a lot of emphasis these days on the food going in to our bodies, the value of each individual component, but half the time the way we eat a meal is just as important--if not more so--than the virtue of the meal itself. It doesn't have to be fancy or even particularly inventive. Just made with love, shared with love, and eaten with gusto (and probably a good glass of wine).

I used half of the ingredients we bought and left the other half in Maggie's fridge. When I came home to California, to my empty house, I recreated the dish. While I was throwing it together I got a text from Maggie, "How do I slice this fennel?"  I sent her the answer and sat down with my own green bowl, feeling suddenly a little less lonely, knowing that sturdy shoulder was only a text message away.

Slice the bulb in half...

...and then in half again.

This salad has endless variations. You can use your own favorite dressing, add different green things, more green things, other-colored things.... I added raw pumpkin seeds to mine one day and a poached egg the next. The key, no matter what, is to chop your ingredients to roughly the same size so you get all the flavors and textures in each bite.

Maggie's Salad (serves 2 for dinner)

Two big handfuls of spinach (about 2 cups)

1/2 a small bulb of fennel

One avocado 

2-3 stalks of celery

a handful of basil leaves

half a small head of broccoli

for the vinaigrette

1/2 t raw honey

1/2 t dijon mustard

juice of half a lemon

salt

1/4 cup good, green tasting extra virgin olive oil

Wash the spinach well by submerging it in a bowl of water and lifting the leaves out so the grit settles in the bottom of the bowl. Spin dry and chop roughly.

Trim the fronds from the fennel (you can add some into the salad if you like), and slice the bulb vertically in half, and then in half again. Slice thinly.

Slice the celery the same thinness as the fennel pieces. I cut mine on the diagonal.

Cut the avocado in half and remove the pit. Using a paring knife, slice the flesh three or four times, top to bottom, and then five or six times side to side, making a grid. Using a large spoon, scoop and scrape the avocado out of the skin. Repeat with the other half.

Slice the broccoli head in half, top to bottom and chop the half you are using, roughly, into pieces around the same size as the rest of the veggies.

Stack the basil leaves on top of one another and roll them up like a cigar. Using a good sharp knife (a dull one will bruise it) slice the cigar in thin strips.

Put all the salad ingredients in a large mixing bowl. In a small bowl whisk the honey, mustard, lemon juice and salt together until the ingredients are well integrated and there are no lumps of honey left. Slowly, in a stead stream, whisk the olive oil in. Taste and adjust the acid/salt/sweetness as needed.

Pour the dressing over the salad and toss gently until everything is nicely coated but not drenched. You may not need all the dressing in which case you can store the remainder in a jar at room temperature for a week.

Share with someone you love!

Red Cabbage & Fennel Slaw with Creamy-Coriander Dressing

'Tis the season for winter salads. And for winter colds apparently. I've had two different strains of a bug in the past 10 days.  All I want to eat is hot, simple soups (Miso!) and raw, crunchy salads. I'm not the only one. All my favorite bloggers seem to be on the soup and salad train. It makes sense, after the holidays that our bodies are craving simple and nutrient-rich foods.  I love salad any time of year, but while I tend to leave my summer veggies unadorned, I like to pair raw winter vegetables with rich, creamy dressings and warming spices to stay grounded in the cold months, even when eating light.

Fennel is one of my favorite vegetables and I love that it comes into season in the winter when so many foods are earthy, heavy, rich, and dark in flavor. Fennel is a warming vegetable and spice though you might not guess it at first. Its clean, astringent crunch, and its power as a digestive aid, make it the perfect counterbalance to rich, fatty foods.

Cabbage is one of the little-discussed miracle vegetables. Like the rest of the brassica family, cabbage is  a strong anti-cancerous agent. Cabbage is an amazing detoxifier and alkalinizer, as well as an immuno-booster. Again, I was surprised to learn that cool, crunchy, cleansing cabbage also has a warming effect on the body. The sulfur and iron in the leaves can improve poor blood circulation, an attribute helpful to many of us in the colder months.

In keeping with the theme, coriander seed is a warming herb which aids in digestion, helps regulate energy levels, and can help cure all kinds of maladies, from headaches to urinary tract infections. Like its cohorts in this slaw, coriander has a bold, bright flavor that seems to cut through anything heavy on the pallet or sluggish in the body. I crushed the seeds into a yogurt-based dressing along with some cayenne and paprika.

Eat this slaw for breakfast with an egg, for lunch or dinner with a simple soup, or like we did last night, along side baked sweet potatoes and spicy Andouille sausages.

Red Cabbage & Fennel Slaw with Creamy Coriander Dressing

1/2 a small head of red cabbage (about 3/4 lbs)

1 small fennel bulb, stems trimmed

a handful of basil

2 t coriander seed

1/2 a small clove of garlic

1/2 cup creamy, plain, whole fat yogurt 

1 T apple cider vinegar
2 T good quality olive oil

dash cayenne pepper

dash paprika

pinch of salt

whole lot of cracked black pepper

Slice the cabbage in half lengthwise. Using a paring knife, make a cut on either side of the triangular core/stem of the cabbage and remove the stem. Place the cabbage flat-side down on a cutting board and slice into thin ribbons. (You can also cut the cabbage into quarters and use the shredding blade on a food processor, which is what I did.) Place the shredded cabbage into a large bowl.

Slice a small, trimmed bulb of fennel in half lengthwise. Starting at the fat end of the bulb, slice the fennel thinly, about the same size as the cabbage. This too can go through a food processor using a shredding blade. Add the fennel to the bowl with the cabbage.

To make the dressing, place the coriander seeds, the garlic and a pinch of salt in a mortar and pestle or in the bowl of a food processor with the chopping blade in place. Blend/mash well. If using a food processor, add the vinegar, olive oil, yogurt, paprika, cayenne, pepper and a bit more salt and blend well. If using a mortar and pestle, transfer your coriander-garlic paste to a medium sized bowl and whisk in the vinegar, oil, yogurt and remaining spices. Taste and adjust seasoning as needed.

Pour the dressing over the slaw, add a handful of roughly chopped basil and toss together until all the vegetables are well coated with dressing. Serve right away or store in the fridge. The slaw will keep its crunch for a few days in the fridge, even after its dressed.

You will probably have left over dressing. We spooned the rest of ours over cumin-roasted cauliflower the next day.

Winter Salad, California Style

Living in a new part of the country means re-learning what "seasonal eating" is. We lucky people who live in the Bay Area are, well, spoiled. Winter doesn't mean that farmer's markets are limited to root vegetables, storage squash and the last of autumn's apples. It means we get to pile all of those things along with many others, on top of fresh new lettuces and greens which, up in Sonoma, finally have enough water and shade to grow. After the searing summer heat and more peppers, eggplants and zucchinis than I ever care to see again, our winter garden is leafy, spicy and growing at the rate of a full salad bowl every other day. Like I said, lucky. When I first lived in the Bay Area, years ago, I worked for a dear friend at The Gardener, in Berkeley. The lessons I learned from her are innumerable, and among them was how to eat a persimmon.

Persimmons are not something I ever encountered as a child in Los Angeles. And of all the produce sent from California to New England, persimmons are seldom seen. Around here they show up at the start of November and stay on through the holidays, lending their festive orange glow to menus and decorative arrangements alike. While sort of intimidating and almost quixotic on the shelf, they are simple to prepare and easily digested by the body. Most importantly, they are delicious, sweet at first bite but without any lingering or excessive sugary taste.  My preferred variety is the Fuyu which is squat like a tomato and firm like an apple. These are eaten while still hard and crisp and are delicious in salads, with dry, salty cheeses, or in slices on their own.

Hachiyas, the larger, more oval shaped variety, are eaten soft and ripe when they are practically pudding in the skin. Both varieties are said to soothe sore throats and an irritated intestinal tract and contain enzymes that break down damaged cells and foreign microbes in the body. Pete came home from Sebastopol the other day with a bag full of both kinds so I have been enjoying them every way I can. Most recently I sliced them into this salad of the-best-spinach-I-have-ever-had (it is almost meaty in its richness), escarole and mustard greens. I added pomegranate seeds, another favorite winter fruit.

Pomegranates grow on trees all over town and my friend Emma has been plucking them from her Edenic back yard and bringing them to work, so I eat the seeds in my granola, in salads, dropped in a glass of soda water or prosecco...you get the idea.

Crunchy persimmon, the tart pop of pomegranate seeds, crisp, spicy greens. What's missing? Oh yeah, cheese. I just discovered how much I love ricotta salata. It has an odd, almost springy texture that I really enjoy. I tossed the whole shebang in good olive oil, juice from half a lemon, and a sprinkle of Maldon sea salt. Now that's my kind of winter meal.

Winter Salad with Persimmons & Pomegranate

serves one hungry person or two as a side

A handful of really good spinach*

A few large mustard or kale leaves

A few large escarole leaves

1 firm Fuyu persimmon

1/4 cup pomegranate seeds

2-4 oz ricotta salta, cubed or crumbled

1 T high quality olive oil

juice of half a lemon

Maldon or other flakey sea salt

* If you are able, try to get your hands on hearty spinach that has textured, knobbly leaves. It is more likely to have that lovely meaty quality I mentioned than "baby" spinach or more the more delicate, thin-leafed variety.

Put the spinach in a bowl and cover with cold water. Lift the spinach out. The sand and dirt will settle in the bottom of the bowl. Rinse the bowl and repeat until all the sediment is removed from the leaves. Do the same with the other greens.

Spin or pat the greens until very dry.

Using a paring knife, remove the stems from the mustard or kale by cutting each leaf lengthwise down either side of the stem. Cut or tear the stemless leaves into fork-bite size and place in a salad bowl. Cut or tear the escarole to a similar size and add to the bowl along with the spinach.

Cut the stem off the persimmon, then halve the fruit vertically. Some Fuyu persimmons contain seeds but many are seedless and just have a pretty flower-like pattern inside. Place one half, flat side down, on a cutting board and slice thin half moons. Do the same with the other half and add to the salad bowl.

Cut the pomegranate in half, vertically. Store one half in the fridge, covered, to enjoy later. Cut your remaining half in half again, vertically. Remove the seeds from the white pith and sprinkle over the bowl of greens. One half should yield at least 1/4 cup of seeds, sometimes more.

Add your cubed or crumbled ricotta salata, the olive oil and lemon juice and toss until salad is evenly coated. Add a good pinch of sea salt and a crack of black pepper and gently toss again. Enjoy as a light, vitamin-rich meal, a first course, or a fresh Thanksgiving side.

Other Fun Facts

Spinach is one of the best greens you can eat. It is very high in iron, clorophyll and vitamin A. It promotes peristalsis (the involuntary wave-like movement of the muscles in your digestive tract that moves your food through your system), soothes intestinal inflammation, is a great detoxifier and can help restore pH balance to your digestive system.

Pomegranate is another cleansing and cooling food which can be great in a season marked by celebratory and, often, heavy eating. Along with cranberries it is known to promote a healthy bladder and urinary tract. The astringent rind is said to make a good skin wash.

Escarole, cousin of endive, is high in vitamins C, K, and A, as well as calcium, iron and magnesium.

Mustard Greens are incredibly high in water content making them a great detoxifying, tonic food. They belong to the Brassica family which is widely considered to be one of the most powerful anti-cancerous groups of vegetables.

Zucchini: A trilogy

PART I: RAW
Admit it. You're sick of them already. For the first week you're ecstatic: the daily harvesting of the small and delicious squash, the blossoms stuffed and fried, the very picture of summer abundance, living proof that even you can grow a vegetable, and a flourishing one at that. And then you forget to look at your beloved plant for a couple of days and lo and behold, you have 4 zucchinis the size of baseball bats. We have three plants in our backyard, and we've stayed pretty on top of harvesting. Still, I find myself opening the fridge and sighing deeply with resignation. Another meal, another zucchini. It's hard to stay excited and inspired by the same ingredient no matter how versatile it is. But I will try in these next three posts to get myself and you re-excited about good old, dependable, prolific, adaptable zucchini. There will be one recipe for each stage of the fruit: one for the baby size, one for the mid-sized and one for the sleeping giant zucchini, so that none of your harvest goes to waste.

My favorite way to eat zucchini is raw, harvested young, when they are tiny, no longer than a couple of inches and about the width of two of your fingers. Sliced very thinly they are crunchy, slightly nutty, and the perfect vehicle for lemon, good olive oil, and a mild cheese. The other day I prepared them in a carpaccio-like salad, alternating the paper thin slices with equally thin rounds of lemon cucumbers and armenian cucumbers.  Add a little cheese and whatever fresh herbs you have on hand--basil, dill, mint, parsley, tarragon, or all of them--and you have yourself a delicious (and maybe home grown and harvested) lunch or side dish. Eat up, there is more on the way!!!

Raw Zucchini & Cucumber Salad

2 small zucchini 

1 or 2 cucumbers 

juice and zest of one lemon

zest of one orange

a handfull of basil, chopped

a few mint leaves, chopped

a few sprigs of Italian parsley, chopped

a handful of multi-colored nasturtiums, chopped

1/4 cup really good olive oil

1 shallot peeled and minced

a splash of rice wine or champagne vinegar

salt and pepper to taste

optional: a mild chevre or, for a vegan option, chopped toasted almonds to garnish

Very carefully, using a mandolin, slice the zucchini into paper thin rounds. If it is very hot and dry out, cover the slices with a damp paper towel while you tend to the rest of the ingredients.

Slice the cucumbers into paper thin rounds and set aside, covering with a damp towel if needed.

In a small bowl whisk together the shallots, lemon zest, lemon juice, a pinch of salt and a splash of vinegar. Let sit for ten minutes.

Alternating between zucchini and cucumber, lay the slices out on each individual plate or on a large serving plate. Each round should slightly overlap the one beneath it. 

Whisk the olive oil into the dressing and taste. Adjust as needed. Drizzle the salad(s) with the dressing, coating lightly but well. Sprinkle the chopped herbs and nasturtiums all over the salad. If you are using goat cheese add generous hunks here and there on top of the slices. Sprinkle the whole salad(s) with orange zest.

Finish with good sea salt and cracked black pepper.

Watermelon, Spiced & Salted

It's watermelon time. Fourth of July, sweaty afternoons in the garden, barbecues, beach days. Watermelon is the quintessential summer time fruit. The aptly named melon is 90% water, and while it tastes super sweet it has less than half the sugar per gram of an apple. Lately, my appetite for the thirst-quencher is insatiable.

I can't recall the exact moment when I fell in love with the sweet-salty continuum. My dear friend Eliza, of Milk & Honey, convinced me with her salted chocolate sauce that I had never enjoyed a sweet without its salty counterpart. As a teenager in Costa Rica, I learned the local custom of sprinkling ripe mango with salt. Those bites of juicy, thickly sweet and slightly salty fruit were more refreshing than a glass of ice water or a popsicle, or even a plunge in the Pacific. A few weeks ago, after a run, I tried salting my watermelon as a rehydrating snack. Nature's answer to gatorade! It was 20 minutes after my run before I needed a glass of water.

Since then I have spiced up my salt mix, fighting the fiery temps with fiery flavors. I like to pre cut the watermelon and store it in the refrigerator for an extra refreshing, any time treat. 

Choosing a ripe watermelon: It's not always easy to tell if you are choosing a ripe melon from a pile at the store or farmer's market. There are few things more disappointing than cutting into a watermelon and finding dried out, tasteless and pale flesh. Turn the melon all the way around, in all directions to find a light yellow mark where it sat against the dirt before harvest. If you don't find a yellow mark, it probably isn't ripe yet. If you still aren't sure, give the melon a light tap with your knuckle. If it sounds hollow, it should be ripe. 

Spiced Sea Salt

1t smoked paprika

1t Adobo or other chili powder

1 T Maldon or other flakey sea salt

Combine the salt mix ingredients in a small bowl and mix well so the spices evenly distribute.

Cut the watermelon around the circumference and place flesh side down on a cutting board. 

Using a very sharp knife, carefully trim away the green peel and white rind. (*note: The green part of the peel is incredibly high in chlorophyl and the white rind is high in organic sodium. Both can be added to smoothies and juices in small amounts for an extra nutritional boost) Repeat with the other half or place the un-peeled melon face down on a plate and store in the fridge for later.

Cut the watermelon into slices or chunks. I like my pieces on the heftier side, around 2 inch cubes. Sprinkle with the spiced salt and eat. This is a highly addictive snack.

Other serving ideas

-Skewer the cubes on toothpicks and sprinkle with the salt as a party appetizer.

-Toss smaller chunks of watermelon with avocado, raw pumpkin seeds, arugula, lime and good olive oil. Sprinkle with the spiced salt or put it in a communal pinch pot on the table. Serve as a first course salad with very cold rosé.