Tuesday, February 28, 2012
For once, I won’t be starting a post about lentils by talking about how I don’t really like them, because I wholeheartedly loved these. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever really eaten lentils outside of soup, and maybe the lentil-y flavor is less strong when the cooking water is drained away? Or maybe I’ve been converted to lentil love, the way I’ve slowly been won over by beans. Or maybe it doesn’t matter, because this recipe is just that awesome.
As soon as I spotted it at Dinner With Julie (how, I don’t know, because it’s two years old—I guess it was destiny, leading me through a random series of links?), I knew I had to make it right away. I’m not sure if it was the poached eggs that lured me in (probably; I’ve been craving them lately) or the bacon, but it seemed like just the kind of food I want more of right now: light and healthy and simple, but also warm and hearty and comforting. After years of resistance to main-dish salads, I’ve finally been won over by them, now that I understand that “salad” doesn’t always have to mean “lettuce laden with many toppings,” a la your average TGI- Friday’s-style chain restaurant. I’m not even sure what really makes this a salad and not just an entrée, seeing as it’s warm, has more lentils than greens, and doesn’t have a dressing. But who cares? It tastes wonderful. I ate it three days in a row last week, and I would happily make it again right now if I had the ingredients handy.
Also: WILL YOU LOOK AT THAT POACHED EGG. I’m so proud! I guess the third time’s the charm, because after having limited success with the whirlpool method (requires too much coordination) and the shallow-water-with-canning-ring method (results not fluffy enough), I finally found a nearly foolproof egg-poaching recipe thanks to NPR. It’s a bit fussier, since it involves a fairly deep pot of water, draining the eggs in a mesh strainer for a few minutes to get rid of the thinner whites that otherwise tend to stray, adding vinegar to the water (I know this is controversial because some people claim they can taste the vinegar in the egg, but I couldn’t, and it really does help get the whites more compact), and adding enough salt that the egg bobs to the surface when cooked instead of getting stuck to the bottom of the pot, but it was just the trick I needed to produce the handsome, puffy, perfectly cooked poached eggs of my dreams. It’s not magic, mind you. You still have to exercise the right combination of care and confidence when dropping the eggs into the water, and I have yet to perfect my technique completely. While I turned out two flawless specimens on the first go-round, during each of three subsequent attempts over the course of the week I choked, dropped the egg too fast or too slow or from too great a height, and produced some homelier (but still tasty!) blobs. Luckily, I think practice will eventually make perfect, and I have no aversion to practice if it means I get to eat more lentil salad along the way.
With one egg on top, this salad will make a generous side dish to a modest portion of meat (pork would be nice) or some other entrée, but with two eggs per serving, it makes the perfect main dish for lunch or a light dinner, which is how we ate it. I liked Julie’s adaptation (the original recipe is from dearly departed Gourmet) of mixing the spinach into the lentils to wilt rather than scattering the raw leaves on top (which sounds odd to me), but I think it needs more spinach than just 1 cup. I threw a bit extra into the mix, but since it cooks down so small, I ended up increasing the spinach further—and making the dish more traditionally salad-like—by serving the leftover portions on a bed of raw leaves, which I liked. The more greens the merrier, I always say. I did run out of red wine vinegar after just 1 tablespoon, so I supplemented with balsamic; I worried this would be a weird taste combo, but then I couldn’t taste either vinegar in the finished dish, although I’m sure they added a little something. My only other change was to use thyme instead of tarragon, because I hate tarragon (I think I got this idea from the Epicurious comments). I nearly forgot the thyme entirely, but I’m so glad I didn’t because it really took the flavors up a notch. Oh, and although the original recipe said to saute them for just 5 minutes, I did think my carrots were a tad crunchier than I’d have liked, so I’ll cook them longer next time.
Finally, I just have to give props to the way Julie begins her post about this salad: “Have you ever panicked that there is just so much food and so little time?... THERE IS JUST SO MUCH TO EAT AND ONLY SO MANY DAYS IN A WEEK AND HOURS IN A DAY! AND MONTHS IN A YEAR! EVERY DAY I HAVE TO DECIDE! I’M NOT GOING TO HAVE TIME TO EAT IT ALL! THE MATH JUST DOESN’T ADD UP!” Oh, yes. Constantly. And every time I discover a favorite recipe like this one, that feeling only gets worse. But I suppose it’s a good problem to have, right?
¾ cup dried lentils (I used French green lentils)
4 slices bacon, chopped
2 leeks (white and pale green parts only), finely chopped
2 celery ribs, finely chopped
1 carrot, finely chopped
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar, or to taste
1–2 cups baby spinach
1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves
Salt and pepper to taste
4–8 large eggs
1. In a small saucepan, cover lentils with about twice as much water, bring to a simmer, and cook uncovered for about 30 minutes, or until just tender. (You can do this ahead of time and keep them in the fridge until you’re ready for them.)
2. While the lentils are simmering, cook the bacon until crisp in a large, heavy skillet over medium heat; transfer with a slotted spoon to a plate, leaving the drippings in the skillet. Add the leeks, celery, and carrot and cook, stirring often, for about 5–10 minutes or until tender. Add vinegar and cook until it’s mostly evaporated. Drain the lentils well and add them to the skillet along with the spinach and thyme; cook, stirring, until heated through and the spinach wilts. Season with salt and pepper and stir in the bacon.
3. Meanwhile, poach your eggs. Divide the warm lentil salad among 4 plates and top each with one or two eggs.
Time: 45 minutes
Leftover potential: Good for the salad, but don’t try to keep the poached eggs; just poach enough for whatever you’re going to eat right away, then poach more right before reheating the leftovers.
Friday, February 24, 2012
That’s right, it’s squash and kale, together yet again! What can I say? I’m insatiable, and shockingly, I didn’t already have a recipe that utilized this great combo in pasta form. Add bacon and crème fraiche and I can’t say no. Amazingly, this indulgent-seeming concoction comes to us from Cooking Light. It’s heavy on the veggies and light on the pasta (despite my hatred of not using the full 1-pound package and having random pasta remnants left over in my cupboard, I did follow the directions to use just 12 ounces and it was plenty of food), strategically using small amounts of bacon and Gruyere to deliver big flavor. Of course, if you were to increase the bacon and Gruyere just a bit, you wouldn’t be the only one to do so, judging from the comments and my own experience.
I’m not going to lie: This thing is a hassle to make. You have to roast squash, sauté bacon and onions, boil pasta and kale, and make the sauce all in separate steps, then combine everything and stick it into the oven. Unless you live in a palace, you will use every square inch of stovetop and counter space and dirty a frightening number of dishes. I wouldn’t attempt this on a weeknight, and it won’t even be a regular go-to dish. But I guarantee you, it’s worth the trouble. None of the techniques are difficult and the result is exceedingly tasty, with a good balance of sweetness and salt and smokiness and spice. The sauce is rich and creamy, but thanks to the colorful assortment of vegetables, it doesn’t feel heavy. This is a great way to tempt the kale-phobic, or just to dress up your winter veggies as comfort food.
5 cups (½-inch) cubed, peeled butternut squash
1 tablespoon olive oil
2–4 slices bacon, diced
2 cups vertically sliced onion
1 teaspoon salt, divided
5 garlic cloves, minced
12 ounces uncooked penne or other tube-shaped pasta
4 cups chopped kale
2 cups low-sodium chicken broth, divided
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
½ teaspoon crushed red pepper
1 cup crème fraîche
½–¾ cup shredded Gruyère cheese
1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees.
2. Combine squash and oil in a large bowl; toss well. Arrange squash mixture in a single layer on a baking sheet covered with parchment paper (or coated with cooking spray). Bake for 30 minutes or until squash is tender; remove squash from oven and set aside, but leave oven on.
3. Meanwhile, cook bacon in a large nonstick skillet over medium heat until crisp. Remove bacon from pan with a slotted spoon and drain on a paper towel-lined plate. Add onion to drippings in pan; cook 6 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add ½ teaspoon salt and garlic; cook 1 minute, stirring occasionally. Remove from heat and set aside.
4. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil over high heat. Add pasta and cook until almost al dente. Add kale to pan during last 2 minutes of cooking. Drain pasta mixture.
5. Bring 1¾ cups broth to a boil in a small saucepan. Combine remaining ¼ cup broth and flour in a small bowl, stirring with a whisk. Add flour mixture, remaining ½ teaspoon salt, and red pepper to broth. Cook for 2 minutes or until slightly thickened. Remove from heat; stir in crème fraîche.
6. Add squash, pasta mixture, bacon, and sauce to the skillet with the onion mixture (or combine everything in a large bowl if the skillet isn’t big enough) and toss gently. Place pasta mixture in a 13 x 9-inch glass or ceramic baking dish coated with cooking spray; sprinkle evenly with cheese. Bake for 25 minutes or until bubbly and slightly browned.
Serves: 6 to 8
Time: 1½ hours
Leftover potential: High.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Last fall, I attempted an improvised spinach, mushroom, and feta pizza inspired by one I saw on TV. It was good, but unbalanced because I vastly underestimated how much spinach to use. That old shrinks-when-you-cook-it trick gets me every time! This is why I don’t cook without recipes, people. But recently I realized that the answer to this conundrum was right under my nose, in the form of a recipe for spinach and feta pizza I’d bookmarked months before at Eggs on Sunday (the source of so many of my favorite pizza recipes). This recipe very cleverly amps up the spinach volume by making it into a pesto—which also provides a hit of garlic (so nice with spinach and mushrooms) and a nice sauce-like element that is often missing from non-marinara-based pizzas. All I had to do was follow the directions, add in some mushrooms, and voila! I had the spinach-mushroom-feta pizza of my dreams.
I bought the biggest bag of spinach at Trader Joe’s, 12 ounces, and then felt compelled to use it all on the pizza so it didn’t go to waste, and although it was a great way to get my greens for the day, I probably could have eased up on it slightly. I had the right amount of pesto (I can’t report on exact quantities; it was just as much as I could fit in my tiny food processor), but I went a bit overboard on the sauteed spinach. I do like my pizza toppings applied with a generous hands (more vegetables = always a good thing), but I’m guessing 9 or 10 ounces might have been a happier medium. I briefly sautéed my mushrooms before adding them to the pizza, because I like them that way (they tend to do that incredible-shrinking-ingredient act too, so if you shrink them down a bit first you can fit more of them on the pizza) and I’m still using that pizza-on-the-stovetop method that I really need to tell you about sometime, and this ensures that they get fully tender even though the pizza doesn’t spend much time in the oven), but do what you like. Either way, I promise this will be delicious.
1 pound pizza dough
1 large bunch spinach, rinsed and spun dry (about 9 to 12 ounces)
1 garlic clove
¼ cup grated Parmesan cheese
Olive oil to taste
Salt and pepper to taste
8 ounces cremini mushrooms, sliced
About ¾ cup grated mozzarella cheese
4 to 6 ounces crumbled feta cheese
1. Take about half of the spinach, cut off and discard the stems, and place the leaves in the bowl of a food processor or blender. Add the garlic clove and Parmesan and process until finely chopped. Drizzle in a few tablespoons of olive oil and blend, continuing to add olive oil until the pesto reaches the consistency you like; it should be spreadable but not too liquidy. Season with salt and pepper, and set aside.
2. Cut the stems off the remaining half of the spinach leaves, and sauté that spinach in a little olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat until wilted. Remove to a cutting board, let cool slightly, and coarsely chop.
3. Optionally, heat a little more olive oil in the same skillet (once the spinach has been removed) and sauté the mushrooms until they have softened and shrunk a bit.
4. Preheat the oven to 450 degrees. Stretch out your pizza dough and lay it out on a baking sheet that’s been generously dusted with cornmeal.
5. Spread the spinach pesto on the pizza dough (you may not use all of it, but if you have extra, it freezes well), then top with the mozzarella, mushrooms, chopped sauteed spinach, and crumbled feta.
6. Bake for 8 to 10 minutes, until the crust is browned and the cheese is melted.
Time: 1 hour
Leftover potential: Good
Friday, February 17, 2012
As avid a kale fan as I am, can you believe that this was my first time trying it raw? I hadn’t been deliberately avoiding it, but now I’m regretting not trying it sooner, because I’m head over heels. This—from Northern Spy Food Co. in NYC via Food52—was a particularly excellent choice as an inaugural recipe, since it pairs kale with squash and lemon, the usual suspect, but also with aged cheddar and almonds, which are a bit more surprising. I was in it for the cheddar and kale and squash, in that order, and thought the almonds looked unnecessary, but I’m so glad I left them in because the combination of flavors and textures was really amazing. (The original recipe called for optional shaved Pecorino, as well, and I halfheartedly threw a few fragments of Parmesan on there, but it’s totally superfluous; the cheddar provides all the sharp creaminess this salad needs, and I won’t bother with the second cheese in the future.) If you’re suspicious of raw kale, this will be your gateway drug, and if you’re already an old hand at kale salads, this will probably shake up your usual routine.
As a bonus, the cheese and nuts add enough protein to make this light vitamin powerhouse feel quite filling. Unsure how much salad the recipe would yield or how much we’d like it, I served this alongside white beans with sausage and tomatoes, and while the two dishes complemented each other nicely, it was almost too much food. The salad portions were generous, and I think that with some fruit (pears spring to mind) and maybe some bread, this would make a lovely lunch or light dinner all on its own. I’d still serve it as a side again, but alongside a smaller main course, like soup, or a single piece of chicken.
Oh, and the leftovers are magical! Usually when I have salad leftovers I painstakingly store each component separately—greens in one container, toppings in another, dressing in a third, and so on—to prevent wilting and sogginess, until I have a teetering tower of Tupperware in the fridge. Kale is so hardy, though, that you can dress it one night and find it totally unchanged the next day. A ate his leftovers several days later and reported them still good. That makes this a perfect salad to take to work, without having to corral and tote a dozen little bowls in your lunchbag.
I couldn’t find Cabot clothbound cheddar, but I picked out some Old Quebec vintage cheddar at random from Whole Foods’ bewildering cheese selection, and it was plenty delicious. And although I’m usually not one for kitchen tips and tricks, I read somewhere that a pizza cutter is the perfect tool for trimming the ribs off of kale, and I must testify that I tried it and it works wonderfully, especially with the flat, narrow Tuscan leaves. (It also does a great job of slicing the leaves into ribbons once you’ve removed the ribs.) The more you know!
1 cup cubed butternut or other winter squash
4½ tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided
Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
1 large bunch Tuscan (aka lacinato or dinosaur) kale, ribs removed and discarded, leaves finely sliced, about 5 cups
½ cup almonds, cut roughly in half
½ cup crumbled or finely chopped Cabot clothbound cheddar (or any other good, aged cheddar)
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
1. Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Toss squash cubes ½ tablespoon olive oil, and season with salt and pepper to taste. Spread on a baking sheet (line with parchment for easier cleanup), leaving space between the cubes. Roast until tender and caramelized, about 40 minutes, tossing with a spatula every 10 to 15 minutes. Remove from oven and let cool slightly, leaving the oven on.
2. Toast the almonds on a baking sheet (I just used the same baking sheet, after removing the roasted squash) in the oven until they start to smell nutty, tossing once, about 10 minutes. Let cool.
3. In a large mixing bowl, toss the kale with the almonds, cheddar, and squash. Add lemon juice and olive oil, season to taste with salt and pepper, and toss well.
Time: 1 hour
Leftover potential: Surprisingly good.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Genius: Beans + sausage + cherry tomatoes + aromatics + oven = a simple version of cassoulet. Hearty but not heavy, comforting, flavorful, and oh so easy, this is the best kind of winter one-dish meal. Just toss some stuff in a pan, throw it in the oven while you relax, put the crusty, bubbling, richly fragrant dish on the table with a green salad and maybe some bread, and let the compliments roll in.
The recipe is from chef Pam Anderson (not to be confused with Baywatch Pam Anderson, although I’m sure she gets that all the time, poor woman), via The Merry Gourmet via Dinner With Julie, where I spotted it and instantly fell in love. My rendition falls somewhere between the original and Julie’s halved, slightly streamlined version. The quantities are flexible; I used 1½ pints tomatoes and 4 largish sausages, but go ahead and adjust to your tastes. I did find that my casserole was looking a bit drier than I’d like near the end of cooking, maybe because I used cooked dry beans (I had some that needed to be used up) instead of canned, so I had a brainwave and dumped in a splash of white wine to loosen things up and then put it back in the oven long enough for the alcohol to burn off. I noticed that the original version called for the canned beans to be undrained, whereas Julie’s version has you drain and rinse them. In general, I prefer to get rid of that odd, salty solution, but perhaps it would have taken care of the dryness situation. In my case, I could have used some of the bean cooking liquid if I’d had the presence of mind to keep it around, but the wine produced such an excellent flavor boost that I’m going to recommend it if you have some handy. Also, be sure to use the best sausage you can find, since it takes center stage here; I love a lot of the different flavors of Trader Joe’s precooked chicken sausages (the Cajun andouille is my go-to spicy), but their Italian sausage is just OK, so I sprang for big hot Italian pork sausages from the Whole Foods meat counter (they apparently grind and season their own sausage at each store; who knew?) and was quite pleased with it. When everything was finished cooking, I took the sausages out of the bean mixture and sliced them, then set them atop each serving, just for ease of eating. But do whatever you want; it’s that kind of party.
1 to 2 pints cherry or grape tomatoes
4 to 6 fresh sweet or hot Italian sausages
1 medium onion, cut into eighths
4 large garlic cloves, sliced
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
Leaves from a few sprigs of fresh thyme or rosemary
1 to 2 bay leaves
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
1 to 2 15-ounce cans white beans, rinsed and drained, or about 2 to 3 cups cooked dry beans
Dry white wine to taste (optional)
1. Adjust oven rack to lowest position and heat oven to 425 degrees.
2. Combine tomatoes, sausages, onion, garlic, olive oil, vinegar, thyme or rosemary, bay leaves, and a generous sprinkling of salt and pepper in a large heavy roasting pan or Dutch oven. Set pan in oven and roast until sausages are brown and tomatoes have broken down, about 45 minutes.
3. Remove pan from oven, stir in beans, and if the mixture looks a bit dry, add a little white wine, water, or bean can/cooking liquid. Continue to roast until casserole has heated through, about 10 to 20 minutes longer. Remove bay leaves before serving.
Time: 75 minutes
Leftover potential: Good
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Although I’m not a huge snacker, when my hunger pangs strike I tend to lose all capacity for rational thought, so I try to make sure I always have some quick and wholesome munchies on hand to restore my sanity between mealtimes. Nuts are the most satiating pick-me-up I’ve tried, but the plain ones can get a bit dull after a while. The Internet is rife with seasoned nut recipes, and I’ve been bookmarking them avidly for years, intending to spice up my snacking routine, but when I finally started sorting through them all, I realized that the majority fall on the sweet end of the flavor spectrum; even those that claim to be spicy have an equally strong dose of sugar. Candied nuts are great for special occasions (they make easy homemade holiday gifts, for instance), but they’re a bit much for every day.
It’s actually harder than I expected to find straight-up savory nut recipes. I do have a great one for rosemary cashews with only a couple of teaspoons of sugar, which I make every year at Christmas, but (a) those are so delicious that I can’t stop gobbling them, and nuts are only a healthy snack if you eat them in small quantities, and (b) I like the idea of having special recipes I only bring out once a year, so making them regularly would take away the magic. I tried another recipe that had promising-looking savory elements like Worcestershire sauce and an array of spices, and although it was definitely tasty, it was far too sweet and buttery to qualify as sensible emergency rations. Then I unearthed this recipe from Serious Eats, and it is absolutely perfect. There’s a tiny bit of sugar, but only enough to temper the sourness of the lime; the dominant flavor is spice. I’d been worried about the heat level, but it was just right for me—enough to bring a glow to my cheeks and make my mouth feel like something’s going on in there, but not so much that I need to eat them with a beverage clutched in my hand to put out the fire. (If your heat tolerance falls below “medium,” though, I’d recommend cutting back to ½ teaspoon cayenne for starters.) These zesty peanuts are definitely addictive, but not so much that I can’t resist shoving them all in my mouth, and the bold flavor excites my taste buds enough that even a moderate portion feels like a richly satisfying snack. Plus, they’re insanely easy to make, with only about 5 to 10 minutes of hands-on labor. I can’t wait to try them on a hot summer day, washed down by a cold beer—but they’re just as lovely when eaten out of a Tupperware container from my purse when I start to feel cranky and shaky while standing in a long checkout line at Kohl’s.
I doubled the lime zest, because I was juicing two limes anyway, so why just zest one of them? It probably wasn’t necessary, because the lime flavor comes through more clearly than you might expect, but I’m a citrus fiend and I enjoy that sort of thing. My seasoning-to-nut ratio was also a bit off, because I bought a 1-pound package of peanuts at Trader Joe’s that claimed to contain “about 16” quarter-cup servings, which I assumed would be approximately the 4 cups the recipe required. Upon taking them home and measuring them out myself, I learned that this is only true if you think that 3½ cups is “about” 4. But you know what? It turned out just fine, and I wouldn’t change a thing. These are going to be one of my go-to snacks from now on. If you don’t like peanuts or are allergic, I assume the recipe would work just as well with other nuts; I can’t wait to try it with cashews.
Freshly grated zest of 1–2 limes
¼ cup freshly squeezed lime juice (from 2–3 large limes)
2 tablespoons chili powder (I used half regular and half chipotle)
1 tablespoon kosher salt
2 teaspoons sugar
¾ teaspoon cayenne pepper
4 cups shelled, unsalted peanuts
1. Preheat oven to 250 degrees.
2. Whisk lime zest, lime juice, chili powder, salt, sugar, and cayenne pepper together in a large bowl. Add peanuts and stir until evenly coated.
3. Scrape nuts onto a large, rimmed baking sheet (line with parchment if desired, for ease in cleanup). Bake until nuts are fragrant, dry, and beginning to darken, about 30 minutes.
Yields: 4 cups (about 16 servings)
Time: 40 minutes
Leftover potential: Excellent; will keep in an airtight container at room temperature for at least a couple of weeks.
Friday, February 03, 2012
Sure, it’s fun to slather it in mustard or coat it in breadcrumbs or top it with complicated sauces, but sometimes you just want chicken that tastes like chicken, you know? Roasting a chicken is not hard, but sometimes you don’t feel like wrangling the whole damn bird (ugh, carving exhausts me), or maybe you only want your favorite parts (because I am young at heart, I dig the drumsticks). Yet you still want your chickeny chicken to be incredibly moist and flavorful, am I right? For those occasions, there is buttermilk chicken.
Adapted by the Smitten Kitchen from Nigella Lawson, this clever recipe takes the buttermilk brine that’s the secret to nearly every good fried chicken recipe and…doesn’t fry it. After a daylong soak in its salty, sweet, tangy, garlicky bath, the chicken gets tossed in a baking dish and thrown into the oven with absolutely no further effort from you—and the simple flavors mean that you can get away with serving pretty much anything as a side dish. It just may be the ultimate weeknight chicken dinner.
I’ll admit I was skeptical the whole way through; after a commenter pointed out the similarity, all I could think of when I looked at the raw chicken covered in creamy pink marinade was the Ramona book where the Quimby girls improvise a meal out of chicken, banana yogurt, and chili powder. But sure enough, the end result was some of the juiciest, most tender roasted chicken I’ve ever made.
2 cups buttermilk
5 garlic cloves, peeled and smashed
1 tablespoon table salt
1 tablespoon granulated sugar
1½ teaspoons paprika, plus extra for sprinkling (I used smoked paprika, which was tasty)
Lots of freshly ground black pepper
2½ to 3 pounds skin-on, bone-in chicken parts (I used all drumsticks)
Drizzle of olive oil
Flaked or coarse sea salt, to finish
1. In a large bowl, whisk buttermilk with garlic, table salt, sugar, paprika, and lots of freshly ground black pepper. Place chicken parts in a gallon-sized freezer bag or a lidded container and pour buttermilk brine over them, then swish it around so that all parts are covered. Refrigerate for 24 hours (that’s the optimal time, but in a pinch you can do as few as 2 hours and up to 48).
2. When ready to roast, preheat oven to 425 degrees. Line a baking dish with foil. Remove chicken from buttermilk brine and arrange in dish. Drizzle lightly with olive oil, then sprinkle with additional paprika and sea salt to taste. Roast for 30 to 40 minutes, until cooked through and browned.
Time: 45 minutes, plus 24 hours of brining
Leftover potential: OK.