SPRING PANZANELLA

Yup, still behind. Considering we’re a week past the Fourth of July, I guess I should finish posting last season’s recipes…or at least the ones with “spring” right there in the title. That means breaking my cardinal rule of not posting two Smitten Kitchen recipes in a row and making it obvious that I’m only a few steps away from being a blatant SK fan blog. (I can’t help it! Her recipes are just so good!) This is one I’ve been eyeing on and off for several years, especially since winter panzanella became one of my favorite salads. The white beans in this one always gave me pause—whole, cold beans are still not my favorite, and I knew A would be even less thrilled when confronted with them. But my desire to eat all the spring things, along with the constant need for more main-dish salads in my life, won out.

I made a few adjustments, most notably adding chopped hard-boiled eggs, which I thought might fit in well with the spring theme while also ensuring a fully satisfying, protein-packed one-bowl meal. After we ate, A proclaimed that the egg was an integral part of his enjoyment of the salad, mitigating the presence of the dreaded beans, so a point for me, I guess. I also threw in some green beans because my asparagus bundle looked a bit on the skimpy side (and also because…spring). Finally, after reading many complaints in the comments about the original recipe’s slightly odd leek-cooking method (which involves boiling them whole and then trying to slice them while slimy-soft into chunks that looked off-puttingly large to me), I decided to try slicing them before cooking, which worked just fine. The layers do separate a bit, but the smaller pieces integrated better into the salad—another plus, since A isn’t a huge fan of leeks to begin with. It still feels a bit strange to boil leeks, and I was tempted to roast or sauté them, as some commenters mentioned doing, but I think the simmer does give them a nice, juicy tenderness that’s needed in this salad. (I cut back on the quantity slightly, though, in favor of more green beans.)

The result was an excellent salad, delicate yet flavorful, durable, portable, and pretty. Although I’ll admit the real star of the show might be the incredible garlicky-cheesy croutons.

Croutons:
¼ cup olive oil
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
6 cups day-old baguette or other bread, cubed
6 tablespoons finely grated Parmesan, plus more for garnish
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
Vinaigrette:
Half a red onion, finely diced
2 to 2½ tablespoons champagne or white wine vinegar
Juice of half a lemon
¼ cup olive oil
½ teaspoon Dijon mustard
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
Salad:
2-4 large leeks
2 teaspoons salt
1 pound asparagus (I used about ¾ pound asparagus and ½ pound green beans, which was delicious)
1 15-ounce can white beans, rinsed and drained, or 1½ cups cooked white beans
2-4 hard-boiled eggs, chopped (optional)

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees.
2. For the croutons, mix the bread cubes with the garlic, olive oil, Parmesan, salt and pepper in a large bowl. Toss to coat well. Transfer bread to a baking sheet and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Bake, stirring once or twice, until the croutons are crisp and lightly colored on the outside, about 10 to 15 minutes. Set aside and let cool.
3. For the dressing, mix the red onion with the vinegar and lemon juice in a small bowl and set aside for a few minutes before whisking in the olive oil, Dijon, and salt and pepper to taste. Set aside.
4. Bring a few inches of salted water to a boil in a large pot. Break off and discard tough ends of asparagus, then cut the spears into 1-inch segments. Add to the boiling water and cook until crisp-tender, about 3 to 5 minutes. Use a slotted spoon to transfer it to a bowl of ice water, then drain and pat it dry.
5. Cut off and discard dark green tops and root ends of leeks. Halve each leek lengthwise and rinse well under cold running water to wash away sand. Slice leeks into ½-inch-thick pieces and add to the boiling water in the pot. Simmer, uncovered, until tender, 5 to 10 minutes. Drain, transfer to a bowl of ice water to stop the cooking, drain again, and then pat dry with a towel.
6. Place asparagus, leeks, white beans, and eggs (if using) in a large bowl and mix in the cooled Parmesan croutons. (If you’re not planning on eating all the salad right away, only put croutons into the servings you plan to eat; store remaining salad and croutons separately.) Pour vinaigrette over and toss well. Season with salt and pepper.

Serves: 4 as a main dish, 6 as a side
Time: 1 hour
Leftover potential: Good; store salad and croutons separately until about 15 minutes before you want to eat them.

BRUSSELS SPROUT, LEEK, AND GOUDA PIZZA

 OK, here’s the deal: I’ve fallen really far behind on posting recipes, and am in danger of losing control and just giving up entirely, which is exactly what happened last year, leaving me with a whole mess of tried-but-not-posted recipes in dimly recollected limbo and lingering icky, disorganized feelings all around. So I’m going to try to bang out a bunch of them, keeping the writeups short and sweet. We’ll see how that goes… First up, a flashback to early spring!

How do I make a new vegetable feel at home in my kitchen? Put it on a pizza. This recipe popped up on Annie’s Eats right in the middle of my annual “I should get into Brussels sprouts” mood, looking irresistibly fresh and spring-green. I haven’t quite been brave enough to try a shaved Brussels salad yet (next year!), but this is clearly a gateway drug, starting with shredded sprouts dressed with oil and lemon (which get delightfully frizzled and roasty in the oven), then adding leeks for sweetness, Gouda for smokiness, red pepper flakes for a kick, and plenty of creamy mozzarella. In A’s view, this pizza is crying out for some bacon, but I liked it just fine in vegetarian mode, with the smoked Gouda filling in that touch of savoriness. Of course, you could coat just about anything in lemon and red pepper flakes and I’d be into it, but this is still an objectively great pizza combo.

8 to 10 ounces Brussels sprouts, ends and outer leaves trimmed away, thinly sliced
2 teaspoons olive oil, plus more for brushing
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
Zest of ½ lemon
1 teaspoon lemon juice
1 pound pizza dough
3 ounces shredded Gouda, preferably smoked
3 ounces shredded mozzarella
½ cup thinly sliced white/light green portion of a leek
½ teaspoon red pepper flakes

1. Preheat oven to 450 degrees.
2. In a medium bowl, gently toss the sliced Brussels sprouts with the olive oil, salt and pepper, lemon zest and lemon juice.
3. Roll out the pizza dough on a baking sheet and lightly brush the perimeter of the dough with olive oil. Sprinkle the shredded Gouda and mozzarella over the dough. Top with the Brussels sprouts in an even layer, followed by the leeks. Sprinkle with the red pepper flakes.
4. Transfer the pizza to the oven; bake until the cheese is melted and bubbling and the crust and toppings are lightly browned, about 10-12 minutes. Remove from the oven. Let cool slightly before slicing and serving.

Serves: 4
Time: 35 minutes
Leftover potential: Good.

LEEK FRITTERS WITH LEMON-GARLIC YOGURT SAUCE

Deb Perelman at Smitten Kitchen is a blogger after my own heart, especially where fritters are concerned. A peek at my archives reveals no less than 10 fritter recipes, and three of them are from Smitten Kitchen: Indian-spiced vegetable fritters, zucchini-ham-ricotta fritters, and some tasty broccoli Parmesan fritters I haven’t posted about yet because the first time I made them, I scarfed them down before they could be photographed. So as soon as The Smitten Kitchen Cookbook came out and I snagged a copy at the library, I hoped a new fritter twist would be waiting inside, and I wasn’t disappointed. Leek fritters, no less! With lemony sauce!

A doesn’t especially love leeks, so I waited to make these until he was out of town. Blanching the leeks and squeezing them dry was a slight hassle, but no worse than shredding and squeezing zucchini, and everything else came together easily. I got slightly fewer fritters than promised—more like 6 than 10—but perhaps I just made mine larger than I was meant to; at any rate, it was a perfect meal for one person with a small salad on the side, and maybe a few left over for lunch the next day. I wasn’t sure what to expect from a leek fritter, but these were surprisingly unobtrusive. The blanched leeks melt into the rest of the batter, giving them a tender interior with the usual crisp frittery exterior, and the oniony flavor is quite delicate, which makes the tang of the creamy, garlicky, lemony sauce (I used Greek yogurt instead of sour cream) a welcome contrast. And the springy green color is so lovely. I’m kicking myself for not trying these with a poached egg on top as the original recipe notes suggest, but that just gives me an excuse to make them again soon. It’s possible that A wouldn’t even hate them—but if he does, more for me!

On her blog, Perelman jokes that she may need a “frittervention,” but I hope she keeps the pan-fried-vegetable iterations coming. In the meantime, now that I’m cautiously tolerating cauliflower, I may need to try her cauliflower and feta fritter recipe.

2 pounds leeks (about 3 very large ones)
½ teaspoon table salt, plus more to taste
2 scallions, trimmed, halved lengthwise, and thinly sliced
¼ cup all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
Freshly ground black pepper
1 large egg
¼ cup olive oil
½ cup Greek yogurt
1 tablespoon freshly squeezed lemon juice
A few gratings of lemon zest
1 small garlic clove, minced

1. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. While it heats, trim the leeks, leaving only the white and pale green parts. Halve them lengthwise and wash well under cold water. On a cutting board, slice crosswise into ¼-inch strips. When the water boils, add the leeks and cook for 3 to 4 minutes, until slightly softened but not limp. Drain and wring out in a dishtowel.
2. Transfer the leeks to a large bowl and stir in the scallions. In a small bowl, whisk together the flour, ½ teaspoon salt, baking powder, and black pepper to taste. Stir the dry ingredients into the leek mixture, then stir in the egg until the mixture is evenly coated.
   
3.  Heat 2 tablespoons oil in a large skillet over medium heat until it shimmers. Drop heaping spoonfuls of the leek mixture into the skillet and flatten with the back of a spatula. Cook until golden underneath, about 3 minutes. Flip fritters and cook for about 3 more minutes, or until the other side is browned. Drain fritters on paper towels and then transfer them to a cooling rack (or a 250-degree oven if you want to keep them warmer) while you repeat the process with the remaining leek mixture.
   
4. While fritters cook, stir together yogurt, lemon juice and zest, garlic, and salt to taste in a small bowl. Serve atop the fritters.

Serves: 2
Time: 30 minutes
Leftover potential: OK; cooked fritters can be stored in the fridge for up to a week and reheated in a dry skillet over medium heat (or, according to the original recipe, in a 325-degree oven). Perelman also says that they can also be frozen for months in a well-sealed package and reheated in the oven. 

POTATO-LEEK PIZZA WITH RICOTTA AND LEMON

Yeah, I already have a potato-leek pizza recipe—but this one has ricotta and lemon zest and tastes like springtime. The Kitchn calls it a “flatbread,” but I know a pizza when I see one. And this one is fab.

I was a bit worried about getting the potato sliced thinly enough to cook through, since I don’t have a mandoline. (Microsoft Word really wants to change this to “mandolin.” Well, I don’t have one of those, either.) Soaking the potato slices in cold water seemed odd to me; I’ve seen this mentioned in some French fry recipes (I think it draws off the excess starch) but have never tried it before, and was kind of worried by how stiff and curled they were when I pulled them out of their bath—I feared I’d soaked them too long and ruined them, but now after some Internet research I see that you can soak potatoes for hours without damage. And whether it was the water or my careful slicing skills, it worked, and the potatoes got nice and tender. I really love the flavors here—just don’t leave off the lemon zest (as I almost accidentally did when I was eating the leftovers), because it’s what makes this pizza special!

2 large leeks
1 large red-skinned waxy potato
Olive oil to taste
Salt and pepper to taste
1 to 2 cups ricotta cheese
Leaves from 4 sprigs thyme
1 pound pizza dough

1 cup shredded Parmesan or Pecorino Romano cheese (I believe I threw in some Asiago and that was good, too)
Zest from two large lemons

1. Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.

2. Trim the roots off the leeks and then slice each leek (white and light green parts only) into very thin rounds. Place the slices in a large bowl and fill with water. Toss the leeks with your fingers, separating the individual rings. Set aside for a few minutes to allow the dirt to settle to the bottom.

3. Slice the potato into thin rounds about ⅛ inch thick. Place slices in a bowl of cool water and set aside.

4. Set a saucepan over medium heat and add about a teaspoon of oil. Transfer the leeks to the saucepan using a slotted spoon and cook until they are bright green and wilted. Season with salt and pepper to taste and set aside.

5. Roll out the dough on a baking sheet and spread with ricotta cheese. Scatter the thyme over the cheese. Arrange the potato slices in overlapping layers and top with leeks. Sprinkle the cheese evenly over the top.

6. Bake for about 15 to 18 minutes, rotating once, until the edges are golden, the leeks have started to crisp, and the potatoes are tender. Remove from the oven and toss the lemon zest over the surface of the hot pizza.

Serves: 4
Time: 45 minutes
Leftover potential: Good.

WARM LENTIL SALAD WITH POACHED EGG

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.

Serves: 4
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.

POTATO-LEEK SOUP WITH CHEDDAR, DILL, AND DIJON

My old standby recipe for potato-leek soup with plenty of dill and lemon is among my favorites, but it verges on the plain, and apparently I’m a sucker for potato-leek anything, so when I saw this recipe on Food52 (via Last Night’s Dinner), I was intrigued. Cheddar is hands down my favorite cheese, and I’ve been gradually coming around to Dijon—which used to gross me out—through its use in the dressings of a few of my recent favorite salads. I may have slightly overestimated the zip these two ingredients would give an otherwise simple soup, because even though the finished product tasted perfectly delicious, I was ever-so-slightly underwhelmed; it was still, after all, potato-leek soup, and it didn’t taste wildly different than my usual version. In particular, I wanted more cheddar flavor (this could be my own fault; I used my refrigerator staple, Tillamook Sharp, but this may have been an occasion to try something sharper and more aged). Still, this is a great recipe, and I think my initial reaction was mainly a product of my own overexcited expectations (not to mention the fact that I may have oversalted the soup a little in the heat of the moment). The leftovers have been lovely (especially last weekend when I was suffering through a cold), A was pleased, and I’d certainly make this again.

¼ cup unsalted butter
2 cups sliced leeks (white and pale green parts, only)
Coarse kosher or sea salt
1 tablespoon unbleached all-purpose flour
1 quart chicken or vegetable stock, preferably homemade
4 cups peeled, cubed red or Yukon Gold potatoes
2 tablespoons sharp Dijon mustard
1 cup firmly packed grated sharp Cheddar cheese
¼ cup chopped fresh dill, plus additional for garnish

1. Melt the butter over medium heat in a large, heavy-bottomed soup pot.

2. Add the leeks and a generous pinch of salt, and cook over medium heat until soft.

3. Sprinkle the flour over the leeks and stir until coated. Cook for a few minutes, then add the stock, potatoes, and mustard, stirring until the mustard dissolves into the soup.

4. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to low, cover, and cook until the potatoes are very tender when pierced with a fork.

5. Turn off the heat and puree the soup with an immersion blender (or in batches in a blender or food processor).

6. Turn the heat back on low and add the cheese, stirring well until it melts into the soup.

7. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Add the dill, stirring it through. Sprinkle additional dill on top of each serving.

Serves: 6
Time: 1 hour
Leftover potential: High; improves over the course of a few days and can easily be frozen

POTATO-LEEK PIZZA WITH BACON

Oh, yum. I spotted this why-didn’t-I-think-of-it recipe in Pioneer Woman’s brand-new cookbook, The Pioneer Woman Cooks. I love her humor and her tantalizing concoctions (accompanied by dazzling step-by-step photographs), even though they’re a bit richer and heavier than I’d usually cook for our little Southern Californian household of two, one of whom has a petite appetite and the other of whom hunches over a computer in a cubicle all day instead of performing grueling, calorie-burning ranch labor on the wide-open prairie. (Really, the only other PW recipes I’ve actually made are the fabulous ranch dressing and oatmeal-jam bars.) But this twist on the iconic flavor combination of potatoes and leeks, with some bacon thrown in, sounded too good to pass up—and you know how I love pizza.

It was fully as delicious as it sounded. The only real changes I made were to omit the goat cheese (because even though I keep on trying it, I just don’t like goat cheese), and halved the amount of mozzarella (because a pound is a lot of cheese). I can see that the goat cheese would add a zippier flavor, and if I’d had some asiago or Gruyere, I might have thrown a bit on there, but we both loved it plenty well as is. If I were making this just for myself, I might have reduced the bacon (to, say, 4 slices) and increased the leeks (to at least 4), but A was horrified when I mentioned it the idea (if anything, he wanted more bacon and fewer leeks—but then, this is the man who got bacon chocolate chip cookies for Valentine’s day, and he doesn’t share my adulation for leeks). So we’ll just keep that ratio the way it’s written.

Tips: Do be sure to use fresh mozzarella, because you need the moisture it provides, and do be sure to slice the potatoes paper-thin. This is the only potato pizza recipe I’ve tried where the potatoes aren’t cooked beforehand, and while that does make things easier, I worried the whole time about ending up with crunchy potatoes, especially since I’d sliced them by hand (a mandoline seems useful, but so very sharp and scary, and where would I keep it?). In the end, while the potatoes were not raw as I’d feared, they did have a bit more bite than usual. I liked the chewy, slightly al dente texture that resulted, but I certainly wouldn’t have wanted them any less cooked than that. So keep ’em thin!

1 pound pizza dough
Extra-virgin olive oil
Kosher salt
6 slices thick-cut bacon, diced
3 leeks, rinsed well to remove grit and thinly sliced
5 small red or Yukon Gold potatoes
8 ounces fresh mozzarella cheese, sliced thin
Freshly grated Parmesan cheese to taste
Freshly ground black pepper

1. Preheat the oven to 500 degrees. Roll out the pizza dough on a baking sheet, drizzle it lightly with olive oil, and sprinkle it lightly with salt.

2. In a skillet over medium heat, fry the bacon until cooked but not completely crisp, then remove with a slotted spoon and set aside on a paper-towel-lined plate to drain. Pour off most of the grease, but do not clean the skillet. Return it to the stove and, over medium-low heat, saute the leeks until soft, about 3 minutes. Remove the leeks from the heat and set aside.

3. Using a sharp knife or mandoline, slice the potatoes very thin. Arrange the potatoes in a single layer all over the crust, slightly overlapping the edges. Sprinkle the potatoes lightly with salt, then lay the mozzarella slices in a single layer on top. Place the leeks on top of the cheese, then sprinkle the fried bacon pieces over the top. Add a generous dose of grated Parmesan and a sprinkle of pepper.

4. Bake 8 to 11 minutes, until the edges of the crust are golden brown and the cheese is melted and bubbly.

Serves: 4
Time: 1 hour
Leftover potential: Good

PASTA WITH BACON, LEEKS, AND MUSHROOMS

I have a lot of good pasta recipes. Enough, in fact, to make a different pasta recipe every week for a year. So I don’t acquire new ones lightly—they have to be pretty different from any in my archives if they’re going to make the cut. This one lured me because it has leeks. You may have noticed that I’m on a leek kick lately, and that keyword in a recipe title is enough to make me take a second look. Then, of course, there was the bacon, which would make it an instant winner with A. And I do like mushrooms, and wouldn’t necessarily have thought to put them with bacon and leeks. Most importantly, I had a few tablespoons of crème fraiche in the fridge just begging for a purpose.

Even though I like all the ingredients, I had an irrational fear that this pasta would be bland. (As if anything containing bacon has ever been bland. Ever ever. If it has, I don’t want to know about it.) I think, subconsciously, I was influenced by the pasta shell shape, not one of my favorites. I know all pasta shapes technically taste the same, but at some point in my cooking history I must have made a disappointingly bland dish involving pasta shells, and now I am prejudiced against them. Or at least, I was, until I tasted this pasta. It is simply delicious. It might be my new favorite pasta. I would like to make it again, right now. Something about the interplay between the smokiness of the bacon, the sweetness of the leeks, the earthiness of the mushrooms, and the saltiness of the cheese is just right. The crème fraiche provides a subtle, but not overwhelming, creaminess. And I actually, actively liked the texture of the pasta shells, and the perfect way they scooped up the little bits of bacon and leek. I really, really recommend this one.

I first saw this recipe at A Good Appetite, where it was scaled to serve two. It had been adapted from the original recipe by Gordon Ramsay (for whom I have an unjustifiable affection based on his TV shows, even though I don’t usually like shouty people and have never until now tasted any of his food), which was scaled to serve four and measured in grams in the European manner. So I had to do a bit of math and improvisation to create a version that would use a whole pound of pasta; as I’ve mentioned before, I have no use for recipes that use less, since I adore pasta leftovers—that is, the cooked, tasty kind waiting in the fridge to be eaten, not the uncooked half-empty box of noodles cluttering up my cabinet. I fudged the proportions a bit here and there, but was really happy with the result. This is an easy and pretty forgiving recipe. The only major change I made was not using olive oil—the original recipe calls for the bacon/pancetta to be cooked in 3 or 4 tablespoons of oil, which seems ridiculous to me, considering that most bacon (real bacon, anyway) is capable of rendering plenty of fat on its own. I just browned my bacon in an empty pan as usual, and it produced more than enough tasty, bacony grease to sauté my leeks and mushrooms in. Then, just to make sure the sauce wasn’t too dry, I added in some reserved pasta water at the end. The completed dish was the perfect consistency; I didn’t miss the extra oil whatsoever. Certainly 4 tablespoons would have made things too oily, so if you want to try the oil, I’d still recommend just 1 tablespoon or so. If you’re using fake bacon or turkey bacon or some other inferior product, maybe use 2 tablespoons oil.

1 pound medium pasta shells
Olive oil (optional)
4 ounces (about 4 thick slices) bacon, roughly chopped
3 large leeks, white and light green sections, sliced thin
8 ounces mushrooms, trimmed and sliced
Salt and pepper to taste
3 tablespoons creme fraiche
1 large handful fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped
Freshly grated Parmesan to taste

1. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil for cooking the pasta.

2. Meanwhile, add the bacon to a large skillet and cook over medium-high heat until beginning to crisp. (If you like, you can heat a few tablespoons of olive oil in the skillet before adding the bacon, but I don’t think it’s necessary unless you’re using a low-fat version of bacon.)

3. Add the leeks and mushrooms to the skillet and season with salt and pepper. Cook for 6–8 minutes, stirring occasionally.

4. When the pasta water boils, add the shells and cook until al dente. Before draining the pasta, reserve 1 cup of the pasta water. Drain the pasta and add to the skillet. Stir in the creme fraiche and some of the reserved pasta water (a few tablespoons at a time until your sauce reaches its desired consistency). Stir in parsley and serve sprinkled with Parmesan.

Serves: 6
Time: 30 minutes
Leftover potential: High. I ate it for lunch three days in a row last week. In fact, I wish I had some right now.

CHICKEN AND LEEK PIE(S)

This recipe from Jamie magazine, which I found at A Good Appetite, is basically a deconstructed version of one of my favorite Jamie Oliver creations, Pancetta-Wrapped Chicken Breasts With Leeks and Thyme—but in pie form. How could I not love it? Especially when I had an orphaned sheet of puff pastry in my freezer and some leftover cooked chicken already in the fridge?

The filling was a cinch to make and tasted delicious, like a sophisticated version of creamed chicken. The pie-making was slightly more challenging, mainly because of my own anxiety and ineptitude. Since A is not a fan of pot pies and I am sucker for anything stuffed with something else (dumplings, ravioli, empanadas, calzones, etc.), I took a cue from A Good Appetite, which mentioned that this might make a nice filling for a homemade hot pocket, and made hand pies instead. It soon became apparent that my filling was too liquidy, no matter how much I cooked it down trying to thicken it (I didn’t have nearly 14 ounces of chicken, as it turned out, and it didn't help that in my desperate attempt to cook it down meant that the chicken chunks broke down into tender strands, so that even scooping it out with a slotted spoon didn't help much), and I had way too much of it; I was barely able to pinch the edges of the dough together without filling running out everywhere, and I had so much filling left over that if I’d had more puff pastry I could have made twice as many pies if I’d wanted to. By the time I threw the baking sheet in the oven, I was swearing up a storm and convinced that I’d ruined a perfectly good filling and doomed dinner by trying to experiment with these little pies instead of just going with the pot pie. I was sure that all the filling would drain out during baking, leaving me with a burnt mess on the pan and soggy, empty pastry shells.

But not so! There was some filling leakage, but thanks to my use of a silicone mat, it didn’t make much of a mess. The pies still baked up near-perfectly, crisp and brown with plenty of tasty filling left inside. They still looked a little homely, but we both loved them—and I ate the leftover filling for lunch the next day with a spoon, which was just as tasty as the pies had been. I’ll certainly be making these savory little morsels again, and while I’ll try to improve on my first attempt by using the correct amount of chicken and maybe having more puff pastry to make more pies with, it’s comforting to know this recipe will work even if I think I’ve effed it up.


IMPORTANT UPDATE: I did a much better job making this for the second time, with some adjustments to the recipe: I had closer to the correct amount of chicken (still more like 12 than 14 ounces), cut it into bigger chunks (1/2-inch cubes, whereas before the chicken had been more shredded), and cooked it less long. It helped that I used about 1/2 cup less broth, so the filling was much less runny. Then, remembering how much leftover filling I'd had before, I went ahead and used a whole package of puff pastry--two sheets instead of one (I still had a bit of leftover filling, but more like a spoonful than a bowlful). So I got twice as many pies for my efforts. Fewer of them leaked in the oven, and the leftovers didn't get soggy--they were nice and crisp even days later. All these changes are noted below.

1 slice bacon, chopped
1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves
1½ teaspoons olive oil
1½ teaspoons unsalted butter
2 large leeks, washed, trimmed, and thinly sliced (white and light green parts only)
Salt and pepper to taste
14 ounces cooked chicken, cut into chunks
1 heaping tablespoon flour
1½ to 2 cups chicken broth (use less when making hand pies)
1 tablespoon creme fraiche
1 sheet puff pastry for pot pie, or 2 for hand pies
1 egg, beaten

1. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees if making pot pie, 400 degrees if making hand pies.

2. Over medium-high heat, add the bacon and thyme to a large skillet. Add the olive oil and butter and cook for a few minutes. Add the leeks and stir for about 3 minutes to coat everything. Season with salt and pepper. Cover and reduce heat to medium-low. Let cook for 30 minutes, stirring from time to time.

3. Stir the chicken into the leeks. Add the flour and stir again. Pour in the broth and the creme fraiche. Turn the heat up and bring to a boil. Season again if needed.

4. If making a pot pie: Pour the filling into a large pie pan. On a floured surface, roll the puff pastry out until it is at least 1 inch bigger on all sides than your pie pan. Trim to fit over your pan with a 1-inch overhang. Carefully place over the top of the pie and press down the sides. Brush with the beaten egg. With a sharp knife, add a few slits in the top. Bake for 35–40 minutes until the crust is golden brown.

5. If making hand pies: Using a rolling pin, roll the puff pastry dough out to make it into a little bigger rectangle. Cut into four rectangles. Brush a little beaten egg onto two adjacent sides of each rectangle. Using a slotted spoon, place a heaping spoonful of the sauce into the middle of each rectangle. Fold over to make a triangle and press the edges together to seal (you may need to stretch the dough a little). Place on a baking sheet lined with a silicone pad or parchment. Brush each pie with beaten egg. Use a sharp knife to poke two slits in the top of each. Repeat with the other sheet of puff pastry and the rest of the filling (you may still have a little left over), for a total of 8 pies. Bake for 15 minutes. Turn the heat down to 350 degrees and bake another 10–15 minutes until golden brown. Let cool a few minutes before serving, because the filling will be really hot.

Serves: 4–6 (The pot pie will serve 4; if you make hand pies, you’ll get 8, but you'll likely eat more than one pie in a sitting—we ate 1½ apiece with a side salad at dinner.)
Time: 1½ hours
Leftover potential: Better than expected, at least for the hand pies. I don’t like reheated puff pastry because it seems to get soggy and greasy, but the leftovers I ate remained crisp and nearly as tasty as the first time around. I wouldn't say they improve with age, but they hold up.

ROAST CHICKEN WITH PEARS, SHALLOTS, AND LEEKS

This. Is. Amazing. If you only make one chicken recipe from this blog, make this one. Now! Hurry! You can thank me later.

I was a little suspicious about the pears. I’m not a proponent of putting fruit in savory dishes. (Big chunks of fruit, anyway; lemon and lime juice and zest obviously get a pass.) Sure, I’ve made exceptions—Brie and apple soup and butternut squash with sausage and apples—but in general if I see any hint of cranberries, figs, plums, raisins (god forbid) or any other such malarkey in a non-dessert recipe, I turn the page. I’m just close-minded that way. But the photo at Sassy Radish was so succulent-looking, I would have made any recipe that followed it, even if it were titled “Raisiny Chicken in Raisin Sauce.” Luckily, the title name-checked shallots and leeks instead, which I love. But then there was that pear, plus all that orange juice…would this chicken just be a mass of fruity sweetness?

Not at all. The chicken doesn’t even taste overwhelmingly orangey, but the juice gives the skin an impressive caramelized, burnished finish. Those sweet pear and orange flavors are facing off against savory shallots, leeks, garlic, olive oil, salt, and chicken fat, and they all melt together into a luxurious, addictively delicious compote blanketing tender, juicy, falling-off-the-bone chicken. (Do not even consider substituting chicken breasts or anything boneless and skinless here—the dark meat is integral to the moist, complex richness.) This is guaranteed to knock the socks off anyone you serve it to. They’ll be convinced that after years of expensive culinary-school training, you spent hours laboring in the kitchen over a hot stove crafting this gourmet masterpiece for their enjoyment. The kicker is that not only is this dish unique and mad tasty, it’s one of the easiest main dishes I’ve ever made. Throw everything in the pan and bake it—not even for that long, because you’re using small pieces of chicken instead of those dense, honkin’ breasts—and magically it transforms into molten awesomeness. Oh, and? And! If you’re still hesitant about using dark meat, let me just inform you that a package of 6 drumsticks at Trader Joe’s cost me under $3. TOTAL.

Delicious, creative, sophisticated, easy, pretty quick, and cheap? Folks, we may just have found the holy grail.

6 chicken drumsticks and/or thighs (bone-in, skin-on)
1 pear, thinly sliced
2 shallots, finely chopped
1–2 leeks, thinly sliced (white part only)
2 cloves garlic, minced
½ cup freshly squeezed orange juice (about 2 oranges)
¼ cup olive oil
1 teaspoon coarse salt
Freshly ground black pepper to taste

1. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

2. Wash and pat dry the chicken parts and place in a 9-by-11-inch glass baking dish. Surround the chicken with the pear, shallots, leeks, and garlic. Pour orange juice and olive oil over everything and season with salt and pepper.

3. Bake for 20 minutes, then turn the drumsticks over and return to the oven for another 20–25 minutes. Remove from oven and let stand for 10 minutes before serving.

Serves: 3
Time: 50 minutes
Leftover potential: This yields a modest amount of food—for a while there, I didn’t even think we were going to have any leftovers because midway through our first drumsticks we were in such rapture that we’d already decided we needed to have a third one apiece, but this is actually pretty rich stuff, and after our second drumsticks we were definitely sated. A ate the two leftover drumsticks a couple of days later and reported that they were just as excellent as the first time around.

PANCETTA-WRAPPED CHICKEN BREASTS WITH LEEKS AND THYME

I’ve long admired Jamie Oliver from a cuteness standpoint, but this is the first of his recipes I’ve actually made. I must say, I’m impressed, even though I’ve tried this twice and not yet managed to execute it perfectly. Don’t worry—the fault is not with the recipe, which is of the simple mix-things-together-and-throw-in-dish-then-bake variety—but with my supply chain. Namely, the pancetta. I think of it as a fairly common ingredient, but neither my beloved Trader Joe’s nor my usual big corporate grocery store carry it sliced, only cubed. So the first time I attempted this recipe, I went to a new Italian market near my house (which I’d been looking for an excuse to visit, but it turned out to be lamer than I’d imagined—mostly an overpriced sandwich shop with a half-assed selection of imported groceries), walked up to the meat counter, asked for a half-pound of pancetta, and watched as the guy cut it off the big marbled chunk in the glass case and wrapped it in paper for me. But I guess I wasn’t really paying attention, because it wasn’t until I got home that I realized the pancetta wasn’t sliced. (Not really the Italian market’s fault, but I still don’t think I’ll be going back there again.) I had to slice it myself, which resulted in thick, rather stubby strips I sort of had to lay awkwardly across the top of the chicken breasts instead of wrapping them around. It worked OK, but it wasn’t the thin, crisp, elegant layer of meat I’d imagined.

I wondered if one might substitute good-quality bacon, and so I tried that the second time I made this recipe (documented in the photo shown above). Bacon did indeed work much better for wrapping, but surprisingly, I didn’t notice the same depth of flavor in the finished dish. Also, the bacon released a lot more fat than the pancetta, so that my leeks were basically swimming in grease by the end of the cooking time and had to be lifted out with a slotted spoon.

Obviously the answer is to embark on a thorough search for proper sliced pancetta (I’m hoping Whole Foods might be the solution to this conundrum) and try this a third time, but I wanted to share the recipe with you now because regardless of all my ingredient problems, I can still tell that it’s a great recipe. This is the kind of dish that takes barely any effort to make and yet produces food delicious and sophisticated enough to serve at a dinner party and spend all night basking in the compliments. The pancetta and thyme do much to spruce up boring chicken breasts, but it’s the leeks that are the superstars here, cooked until they’re meltingly tender and sweet, with winey and porky undertones. Served with a refreshing green salad, it’s an easy yet impressive meal—quick enough for a weeknight, yet worthy of a special occasion.

The original recipe served just one person and was written in Jamie’s casual, almost careless style—few precise measurements, just a knob of this and a pour of that. So everything is pretty much to taste, but in increasing it to serve four, I’ve tried to quantify things as best I can. The one thing that befuddled me about the original was that it called for 6 or 7 pancetta slices for just a single chicken breast (and you’ll notice that in the accompanying photo, that chicken is pretty well blanketed). This seemed excessive, especially when multiplied by four, unless those slices are super-short or something? With the bacon, I found that two slices wrapped around each breast covered it adequately, and for my own serving (shown above) I only used one—both for health reasons and because I like the spirally look of the single slice with peeks of chicken showing through. So I’m leaving the pancetta quantity totally to your whim, along with the oil (you don’t need much) and the wine. Experiment—I think no matter what, you’ll be impressed with the result.

4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts (if the breasts are large, as they all seem to be nowadays, I like to use just 2 and slice them in half to make 4)
4 large leeks
about 12 sprigs fresh thyme
olive oil
1 tablespoon butter, cut into pieces
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
white wine
enough sliced pancetta (or good-quality bacon) to wrap around the chicken breasts

1. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

2. Place chicken breasts in a bowl. Wash and trim the leeks, remove outer leaves, and cut white and light green parts into ¼-inch-thick slices. Add leeks to the bowl along with leaves from about 6 thyme sprigs, a splash of olive oil, the butter, salt and pepper, and a swig of white wine. Toss everything together.

3. Remove the chicken breasts from the bowl. Pour the leek mixture into a baking dish just large enough to hold the chicken snugly (an 8- or 9-inch square glass dish works well). Wrap each chicken breast in a single layer of pancetta and place in the dish. Drizzle lightly with olive oil and scatter remaining thyme sprigs atop and around the chicken.

4. Bake in the center of the oven for 25 to 35 minutes.

Serves: 4
Time: 45 minutes

CORN CHOWDER WITH BACON, LEEKS, AND POTATOES

I realize that I promised to post this recipe “tomorrow” about two weeks ago, but I plead extenuating circumstances. We’ve been continually battling a domino-like series of plumbing problems that’s left us, variously, without hot water, a working kitchen faucet, or a properly draining kitchen sink. I’ve had to call upon my resourceful Midwestern pioneer roots to find viable ways to keep cooking and cleaning in spite of our apartment’s vagaries: boiling hot water on the stove for dishes! Carrying water from the bathtub faucet to cook pasta! Rinsing carrots in the bathroom sink! It’s been all kinds of fun. Occasionally, I’ve had to admit defeat and just order a pizza, or go out to a restaurant to escape the chaotic kitchen. Under these conditions, thinking about cooking just frustrated me. Things finally seem to be on the mend, however (KNOCK ON WOOD), so I can face posting recipes again.

Also on the mend: the tip of my left pinky finger, which I nearly hacked off in an alarming knife mishap while slicing onions for this green chicken korma recipe last week. (Jury’s still out on the recipe. It was OK, but not as flavorful as I expected; I was hoping it would taste just like that green chutney our local Indian restaurant serves with the papadum. It wasn’t too hard to make, but I’m still not sure I’ll want to go through the trouble of doing it again, especially since I now associate it with traumatic flesh wounds.) It was definitely the most severe injury I’ve ever sustained while cooking, and I’m still keeping it under bandages to avoid grossing people out, but it’s healing well and probably won’t even leave a scar. It did impede my typing for a while, though.

So, now that the excuses are done, here’s a tasty summer soup recipe adapted from Jack Bishop’s Vegetables Every Day. If you want a vegetarian version, consult Bishop’s book, but we love this bacon-y variation. I love how simple the recipe is—only 8 ingredients!—and yet how deeply flavorful, thanks to the ingenious concept of boiling the corn cobs for extra-rich corn flavor. Because the recipe calls for whole ears of corn, it’s best to make it at the height of corn season; I’d been eagerly awaiting the appearance of corn at our farmers’ market specifically so I could make this soup. Well, and also corn fritters. And spicy corn on the cob, of course. And there’s this fresh summer succotash recipe I’ve been meaning to try….

Er, anyway, enjoy the chowder while I daydream about corn.

5 medium ears corn
4–6 strips bacon, diced
2 medium leeks, white and light green parts only, sliced thin
2 cups milk
¾ pound red potatoes, peeled and cut into ½-inch dice
salt
freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons minced fresh parsley leaves

1. Remove the husks and silk from the corn. Stand each ear on its end and slice downward with a chef’s knife to remove all the kernels. (Reserve the cobs.) You should have about 3½ cups of kernels.

2. Place the corn cobs and water to cover (about 4 cups) in a large saucepan. Bring to a boil, reduce the heat, partially cover, and simmer gently for 20 minutes. Pick out and discard the cobs. Strain and reserve 3 cups corn broth; discard remainder.

3. Sauté bacon in a large saucepan until fat has rendered, about 3 minutes. Add the leeks and continue to sauté over medium heat until bacon is crisp and leeks have softened, about 5 minutes. Add the corn broth, milk, potatoes, and salt and pepper to taste. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer gently until potatoes are almost tender, about 15 minutes. Add corn kernels and continue to simmer gently until corn and potatoes are tender, about 10 minutes.

4. Puree 2 cups of the soup in a blender (I, of course, use my new best friend, the Cuisinart SmartStick). Return puree to pot and reheat gently. Stir in parsley and adjust seasonings.

Serves: 4–6
Time: 1 hour, 15 minutes

BUTTERNUT SQUASH–LEEK SOUP

Good old Cooking Light delivers another successful meal. I already have a serviceable squash soup recipe, but what attracted me to this new one was the whole head of roasted garlic. Also, I enjoy leeks…but garlic was the main appeal.

Having to spend an hour roasting the garlic before beginning to make the soup means this probably won’t become one of my old reliable weeknight recipes—instead, it goes in my
“Sunday recipe” category, like roast chicken or meatloaf. The hour did give me precisely the amount of time I needed to make focaccia to accompany the soup. And once the garlic was roasted, the soup came together really easily. Result? It didn’t pack quite the garlicky punch I was looking for, but it tasted good and I’d make it again. It was pretty, comforting, healthy, and fallish.

Only issue with the recipe: As instructed, I bought 4 leeks at the farmers’ market. Granted, they weren’t gigantic, but they were what I’d call medium-large. After trimming them, washing them, and slicing the white and light-green parts as recipes traditionally have you do, I was left with not the 6 cups called for, but instead a measly 2 cups of leeks. 6 cups is a lot of leeks—more than my potato-leek soup recipe calls for, and that recipe serves 12! So I’m left wondering: (a) How freakin’ huge were the four leeks used by the Cooking Light test kitchen? (b) Was I supposed to use the entire leek, even though I’ve never seen a recipe that calls for the dark green part? (c) Did my substantial shortage of leeks drastically affect the end product? It tasted fine to me—but would it have been dramatically different with more leeks? Well, yes, it would be leekier, obviously. To find out, I guess I’ll have to try again soon. But I’m here to tell you, if you don’t end up with 6 cups of leeks, don’t sweat it. You’ll still have good soup.

1 whole garlic head
4 teaspoons olive oil
6 cups thinly sliced leek (about 4 large)
4 cups (3/4-inch) cubed peeled butternut squash (about 1 medium)
2 cups water
2 cups less-sodium chicken broth
½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

2. Remove white papery outer skin from garlic head (but do not peel or separate the cloves). Wrap head in foil and bake for 1 hour. Cook 10 minutes, then separate cloves, squeezing to extract garlic pulp. Discard skins.

3. Heat oil in a large saucepan over medium-high heat. Add leek; sauté 5 minutes or until tender. Stir in garlic, squash, 2 cups water, broth, salt, and black pepper; bring to a boil. Reduce heat, and simmer 10 minutes or until squash is tender.

4. Place half of squash mixture in a blender and puree until smooth. Pour pureed soup into a bowl and repeat procedure with remaining squash mixture. Return pureed soup to the saucepan, stir, and heat briefly.

Serves: 5-6
Time: 1½ hours (mostly garlic-roasting time)

LEEK AND POTATO SOUP

I made this last night for A and his mother: my best, most reliable, serve-to-company, make-a-lot-at-once-and-freeze-for-later soup recipe. It’s easy, quick (as far as soups go), and very flavorful—especially this time, since I used the homemade chicken stock instead of canned broth. The milk, potatoes, and broth make it hearty and comforting enough for winter; the leeks, herbs, and lemon make it light and bright enough for spring. It’s good on its own, with a side salad, or with bread and cheese (like Gouda or Edam). It may be the perfect soup.

P.S. For extra awesomeness, try a little fresh-cracked lemon pepper over the top. Heaven!

5 cups sliced leeks, white and light green parts only (1½ pounds trimmed)
1½ tablespoons butter
4 pounds russet potatoes
4 cups water
1 teaspoon salt
4 cups chicken broth (or vegetable broth, if you’re vegetarian)
2-3 tablespoons chopped fresh dill
2-3 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
juice of ½ lemon
pepper
milk or cream to taste (optional)

1. Scrub the potatoes thoroughly and cut them into ½-inch dice, throw them into a large soup pot, and add the water and salt (you can add a little more water if needed to cover them, which I typically have to do). Bring this to a boil, lower the heat, and simmer until the potatoes are tender.

2. While the potatoes are cooking, melt the butter in a medium nonstick skillet over medium heat. Trim the root ends and dark green ends off the leeks, wash the leeks thoroughly, quarter them lengthwise, and slice them thinly, then add them to the butter in the skillet. Cook, stirring often, until they're very limp. (I like to cook them pretty well; otherwise they can be a little tough and squeaky between your teeth. They shouldn't brown, however--if they do, turn down the heat.)

3. When the potatoes are done, add the cooked leeks to the pot, along with the broth, herbs, lemon juice, and a generous amount of pepper. Cook everything together for about 10 minutes, taste for seasonings and correct them as needed (for me, it usually wants a little more salt, as there's none in my homemade broth). You may also add a little milk or cream (just eyeball it) to make the soup more creamy.

4. The soup can be eaten as-is, but I like to puree it briefly in a blender to make it smoother. Usually, I only puree about half or ¾ of the soup, so some texture remains. (You can also just mash the potatoes with a masher, if you want it less chunky but not pureed.)

Serves: about 12
Time: 45 minutes

PASTA WITH LEEKS AND WHITE WINE

Mmmm, leeks. This is very leeky pasta—not much else to it, really. Naturally, the recipe is from Pasta e Verdura, my source for out-of-the-ordinary vegetable pasta dishes. I’ve made it a number of times, although this wasn’t the most shining example of it. I discovered I didn’t have any parsley and had to make do with basil, which was OK, but not the same: more bitter, less bright. Also, it really bugs me how little leek pieces are capable of getting strewn everywhere in my kitchen. Still, this was tasty—the sweet onionyness of the leeks is perfect with the dry tartness of the wine. Lots of elegance for very little effort.

Can I just voice a pet peeve here, which is that recipes often call for freshly ground pepper in specific quantities? What am I supposed to do, grind it into a teaspoon to measure it? (Yes, I guess so.) Usually I just grind what looks like enough directly into the dish. This time, however, I noticed this recipe calls for ½ teaspoon pepper, whereas most seem to ask for only ¼ teaspoon. So I shelved the pepper grinder, brought out a container of preground pepper, measured out ½ teaspoon, and boy howdy that’s a lot more pepper than I would ever have thought to add on my own. And I’m glad I did it that way, because the end result tasted nice and peppery, which helped balance out the leeks.

4 medium leeks (about 2 pounds)
¼ cup olive oil
½ cup dry white wine
1 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons minced fresh parsley leaves
1 pound penne pasta
1/3 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese

1. Bring 4 quarts of salted water to a boil in a large pot for cooking the pasta.

2. While the water is heating, trim the dark green tops, the root ends, and the tough outer layers from the leeks, then cut each one in half lengthwise. Wash the leeks under cold running water, gently spreading apart (but not separating) the layers to remove all traces of soil. (I enjoy cleaning leeks, because you can see the dirt come right off. You have to be thorough, though, as there’s nothing grosser than gritty leeks.) Set the leeks on the cutting board and slice them crosswise into very thin strips.

3. Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium heat, add the leeks when the oil is warm, and sauté them over medium heat until they're completely wilted. (The recipe says this should take about 10 minutes, but I probably let it go a little longer, as I dislike the squeakiness of undercooked leeks. But the leeks shouldn’t start to brown—if they do, reduce the heat. I've also found that it's helpful to cover the leeks, which allows them to steam and get really tender.)

4. When the pasta water boils, pour in the penne and cook until al dente.

5. When the leeks are suitably wilted, pour in the wine, the salt, and the pepper. Simmer over low heat until the aroma of the wine fades and the sauce thickens a bit, about 5 minutes, and then stir in the parsley.

6. Drain the pasta when it's cooked, mix it with the leek sauce, add the grated cheese, and serve.

Serves: 6
Time: 30-40 minutes

POTATO, SAUSAGE, AND LEEK GRATIN

Last night was my second time making this recipe taken from Bruce Aidells' Complete Sausage Book, which I checked out of the library a few months ago. I had no idea who Bruce Aidells was when I found the book, but I like sausage (because I find meat unappealing unless it’s very flavorful). As I was shopping for ingredients to make this recipe for the first time, I began perusing the sausage section at the grocery store and immediately noticed…Bruce Aidells brand sausage! This man is obviously some kind of sausage celebrity. So of course, I had to buy his brand. I chose the Cajun-style andouille, and it was great—high-quality and very spicy. I really recommend it, if you can find it, but perhaps it’s only available in California (he seems to be based in San Francisco).

The first time I made this recipe, it boiled over and made a huge mess of both the oven and the baking dish. The food itself was pretty good, but I wasn’t sure if it was worth all the scrubbing. So I still felt like the recipe was on trial this time around: could I make it less problematic? I was generous with the flour (the full 3 tablespoons) and sparing with the milk (I didn’t use quite enough to “cover the mixture in the pan” the way the recipe instructs). I also made sure to cover the bottom of the oven with aluminum foil beforehand to minimize cleanup. The result? It still boiled over, but less. Only a few droplets fell on the bottom of the oven, but sides and top of the pan were still pretty encrusted. Maybe I need a taller baking dish? (I used my rectangular Pyrex, as always.) The food itself came out a little drier and more solid, which I actually liked—less like scalloped potatoes, more like a hash. I also made an important discovery with the bread crumbs; the recipe tries to have you add them before baking, which means they just get all soggy and disappear into the milk, so instead I tried adding them when I removed the cover for the last 15 minutes of cooking, and they turned nice and brown and crisp. Thus, overall, I feel last night’s effort was a success, and I enjoyed eating it—I love leeks, and they melded well with the potatoes and the smoky, spicy sausage. (We had some salad on the side, which rounded out the meal.) You just have to be prepared for some messiness with this recipe…which is why I’m glad it’s A’s job to do the dishes.

Butter to taste
4 cups diced unpeeled red potatoes (about 4 medium-to-large)
1 cup finely chopped leeks (about 3 medium)
½ cup chopped green onions (4 large)
salt and freshly ground black pepper
2-3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
½ to 1 pound high-quality smoked sausage (such as kielbasa), chopped
milk
1/2 cup fresh bread crumbs

1. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees and rub butter (ah, butter) thoroughly over the inside of a 2-to-3-quart baking dish. Add 2 cups potatoes, 1/2 cup leeks (the firm, white/light green ends only), and 1/4 cup green onions (the white bulbs plus an inch or two of the greens), mix well, and then sprinkle generously with salt, pepper, and half the flour.

2. Add all the chopped sausage to the pan. Then spread the remaining potatoes, leeks, and green onions on top. Sprinkle on more salt and pepper, and the remaining flour.

3. Here’s the crucial milk-pouring stage. Bruce says to “pour over enough milk to just cover the mixture in the pan,” but I only pour it to about the same level as the mixture in the pan—so potatoes and things are still visible on top. It’s a delicate balance; you wouldn’t want the dish to be too dry, but it sure does bubble over if there’s too much liquid.

4. Dot the top with butter and cover the pan with aluminum foil. Bake it, covered, for an hour, until the potatoes are tender. When the hour is up, take the pan out of the oven, remove the foil, sprinkle on the bread crumbs, and stick it back in to bake uncovered for 15-20 minutes more, until the top is brown.

Serves: 4-5
Time: 1½ hours (but most of that is baking time)