BLANCS DE VOILAILLE AUX CHAMPIGNONS DE PARIS

(Chicken Breasts With Mushrooms)


I’ve made this a few times before but always forgot to post it. It’s from Bistro Chicken by Mary Ellen Evans, my source for easy Frenchy sophistication. Like her other recipes, this one sounds, looks, and tastes elegant but is no trouble at all to make. You get to do fun chef things like deglaze the pan with wine and reduce the liquid to make a pan sauce, so you can pretend it requires flair and savoir-faire to make it, but at heart it’s quite sensible and unfussy and relatively foolproof. The only changes I made were to use brown mushrooms because I like them better, and to leave out the tarragon because I have yet to be thrilled enough by tarragon in my life to warrant paying $2.50 for it at the grocery store. Everything went smoothly, though I think I could have reduced the sauce a bit more at the end; it was too runny. But tasty, so who cares? This recipe doesn’t send me over the moon—there’s a nice blend of subtle flavors and all, but essentially it’s just chicken in dressed-up cream-of-mushroom sauce. But with a green salad it’s a good, reliable, civilized Tuesday night dinner, which is all I need sometimes.

2 tablespoons canola oil
2 tablespoons salted butter
8 ounces white button mushrooms, quartered
¼ cup minced shallots
4 (6-to-8-ounce) boneless, skinless chicken breasts
* If breasts are large, use 2 and cut each in half horizontally to make 4
¼ teaspoon salt
⅛ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
½ cup chicken broth
½ cup white wine
½ cup half-and-half
1 tablespoon chopped fresh chives
1 tablespoon chopped fresh tarragon
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley

1. Heat the oil and butter in a large skillet over medium heat. When it sizzles, add the mushrooms and shallots. Sauté until just beginning to soften, 2–3 minutes.

2. Season chicken with salt and pepper. Push mushrooms to the edges of the skillet and add the chicken in the middle. Sauté until golden brown on both sides, 3–4 minutes per side.

3. Reduce heat to low; add broth and wine. Cover; cook, turning once, until chicken is no longer pink in the thickest part when cut with a knife, 4–5 minutes per side. Remove chicken to a serving platter and cover with foil to keep warm.

4. Whisk the half-and-half into the skillet; increase heat to high and cook to reduce and thicken slightly, 2–3 minutes.

5. Meanwhile, finely chop the herbs. Pour the reduced sauce over the chicken, sprinkle with the chopped herbs, and serve.

Serves: 4
Time: 30 minutes

PENNE WITH TOMATO-VODKA-CREAM SAUCE

Well, chalk up another big yum to Rachael Ray. When I returned home on Monday after a delightful vacation in Joshua Tree with my parents and A, I had just enough time to do my week’s grocery shopping before dinner. Since we’d missed the Saturday farmers’ market, I hastily tore through my cookbooks looking for recipes that could be made without the benefit of awesome fresh produce. We’re getting so spoiled by the farmers’ market’s bounty—not to mention the warm fuzzy feeling of buying locally grown, often organic, food directly from the growers—that we shy away from inferior supermarket produce (except for things like mushrooms that the farmers’ market doesn’t carry). This didn’t leave me with many options for a pasta dish. Tomato sauce sounded nice, but it turns out I have just two pasta recipes that don’t employ fresh tomatoes, and I’d made both of them recently.

Then I remembered RR’s cringeworthily titled “You-Won’t-Be-Single-For-Long Vodka Cream Pasta” (ah, see, this is the kind of cutesyness that makes people hate her), which had received a glowing review from the Smitten Kitchen and which, conveniently, is included in the RR 30-Minute Meals cookbook I happen to own. I like vodka, I like cream—why not give it a shot?

Interestingly, it turns out that the recipe posted on the Food Network site and used by the Smitten Kitchen is different than the one in my cookbook. It’s less stripped-down, with different proportions, some extra ingredients (butter, shallots, and chicken stock) and some rearrangement of the steps (adding the vodka earlier, for one thing). Most importantly, it actually calls for the traditional penne, whereas the original called for, oddly, linguine (and I’ve seen Penne alla Vodka on restaurant menus a lot more than I’ve seen Linguine alla Vodka). I’m pretty sure that the cookbook I have is RR’s very first book, so I get the feeling that maybe she’d gained some more experience and honed her skills by the time the Food Network recipe was posted—and consequently decided to make it a little more complex and (I was willing to bet) also tastier. Since I happened to have shallots on hand, for the chicken recipe I was planning to make the next night, and just enough homemade chicken stock in the freezer, I forged ahead with the Internet version.

Verdict: This pasta is dee-licious and a cinch to make. We grated a little Parmesan on top of each serving, because we love dairy overload. A gives it his stamp of approval, too. I could tell he was a little weirded out by the idea of putting vodka in tomato sauce, but as soon as he took a bite and realized it didn’t taste like vodka per se, but rather like something ineffably above and beyond just plain tomato sauce, he was pleased. Since RR’s intro to the recipe promised that when you feed this pasta to the one you love, “he or she will be yours,” I watched A carefully to try to gauge any increase (As if it were possible for me to love you even more! he now interjects) in his level of devotion to me. I hoped the magical You-Won’t-Be-Single-for-Long Sauce might at least inspire him to do the dishes immediately after dinner, instead of waiting until the next day. But he just looked happy to be fed, as always. And then he fetched me some Jo-Jos (the superior Trader Joe’s version of Oreos, with which I am currently obsessed) out of the cupboard and we spent a sated evening with cats on our laps watching 24. And that is about all the happiness I require from a pasta sauce, thank you very much.

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon butter
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 shallots, minced
1 cup vodka
1 cup chicken stock
1 can crushed or diced tomatoes (28–32 ounces)
salt and pepper to taste
1 pound ounces penne pasta
½ cup heavy cream
20 leaves fresh basil, shredded or torn

1. Heat oil and butter in a large skillet over medium heat. Add garlic and shallots, and gently sauté for 3–5 minutes. Add vodka to the pan and reduce by half. Add chicken stock and tomatoes. Bring sauce to a boil and reduce heat to simmer. Season with salt and pepper.

2. While sauce simmers, cook pasta in salted boiling water until al dente.

3. When enough liquid has cooked away from the sauce and pasta is almost done, stir cream into sauce. When sauce returns to a boil, remove it from heat. Drain pasta and toss with sauce and basil leaves.

Serves: 6
Time: 30–40 minutes

MACARONI AND CHEESE!

Hell yeah.

I’ve always thought of myself as a macaroni and cheese lover. Between the ages of, say, 14 and 20, I was a box-a-week Kraftoholic. It took many years for me to notice that it doesn’t really taste like cheese, but as soon as I did, there was no going back. I was slow to find a replacement, though. In the decade since, I’ve mainly made do with restaurant fare—if there is mac and cheese on a menu, I will order it. (Favorites include Hugo’s cheddar-Gorgonzola-Parmesan mac and cheese, Noodles & Company’s Wisconsin Mac & Cheese with spinach and tomatoes—Noodles, if you’re listening, please open a restaurant in Pasadena, OK?—and, in a pinch, the more synthetic creamy mac and cheese at Souplantation.) Attempts to create mac and cheese at home, however, have been sporadic and disappointing. When I started cooking more seriously post-college, I checked out an entire book of mac and cheese recipes from the library, but the few recipes I tried were unsatisfying. In the past year or so, I’ve taken solace in the America’s Test Kitchen recipe, which is pretty decent, but always failed to inspire in me the same ecstasy I remembered feeling for the more memorable mac and cheeses of my life. I tried to rationalize (check out the warning signs of disillusionment in the above posting--"it may not be what my inner child is crying out for," "I would not say I have perfected this recipe yet"). Maybe this was just what you got with homemade mac and cheese. Or maybe I just didn’t like mac and cheese quite as much as I thought I did.

The “Eureka!” moment came last December, as I was reading The Best Food Writing 2006, which contains an essay by Julia Moskin from the New York Times entitled “Macaroni and Lots of Cheese”. In it, Moskin boldly posits that the solution to mac-and-cheese malaise is just…more cheese. What struck me were the following quotations from author John Thorne:

“A good dish of macaroni and cheese is hard to find these days. The recipes in most cookbooks are not to be trusted...usually it is their vexatious infatuation with white sauce, a noxious paste of flour-thickened milk, for this dish flavored with a tiny grating of cheese. Contrary to popular belief, this is not macaroni and cheese but macaroni with cheese sauce. It is awful stuff and every cookbook in which it appears should be thrown out the window.”

“Starting at about the turn of the 20th century, there was a huge fashion for white sauce in America—chafing-dish stuff like chicken à la king, or creamed onions. They were cheap and seemed elegant, and their legacy is that people choose ‘creamy’ over everything else. But I maintain that macaroni and cheese should be primarily cheesy.”

While I’m not sure I’d go so far as to call white sauce “noxious,” I was aware of its inglorious history from reading Laura Shapiro’s Perfection Salad, and I’d long suspected that perhaps it was white sauce that seemed to make my homemade mac and cheeses so bland and gummy. Macaroni with cheese sauce was exactly it—sometimes I could almost taste the flour, particularly in the leftovers. The notion of a better way intrigued me, and I hastily copied down the two recipes included in Moskin’s article. Then I promptly forgot about them.

Lately I’ve been reading more food blogs, and it turns out Moskin’s article was pretty heavily debated in the blogosphere. Most responses I read remained faithful to the traditional white-sauce version of mac and cheese; a few had tried Moskin’s more hard-core cheesy recipe (basically just macaroni, butter, a little milk, and a whopping 1½ pounds of cheese) and pronounced it “gross.” Those who had tried her second recipe, however, including The Smitten Kitchen, were enthusiastic.

You can now include me in those ranks. The recipe sounds a little weird (pureed cottage cheese? a pound of cheddar? uncooked noodles?), but it works beautifully. The cottage cheese-milk mixture provides a creamy binding agent without resorting to flour. The pound of cheddar is enough to envelop the noodles without being too overwhelming. The noodles cook perfectly, absorbing the milk and the cheese flavor while saving you time and dishwashing. This recipe couldn’t be easier: dump ingredients in a dish and bake. And any doubtful visions I had of crunchy raw noodles or oily clumps of cheese were dispelled when I drew the bubbling, rich-smelling, perfectly browned dish from the oven. It was macaroni with baked cheese, and it was perfect—chewy but not dry, creamy but not saucy, toastily crusty on top and bottom. I’ll admit it gets slightly greasier when the leftovers are reheated, but it retains its cheesy flavor and pleasant texture; I enjoyed it nearly as much today at lunch as I did when I made it on Monday night. This is my ideal mac and cheese—if only it weren’t so decadent so I could feel justified in eating it more often.

A looked slightly alarmed when I took one bite and then declared that now that I’ve found this macaroni and cheese, my life is complete. But when the bowls were empty (and we had dutifully eaten big green salads to keep our arteries clear) and I said, “I’m throwing my old macaroni and cheese recipe away right now. I don’t need it anymore,” he didn’t argue. He was happy; his mouth was full of cheese.

2 tablespoons butter
1 cup cottage cheese
2 cups milk
1 teaspoon dry mustard
½ teaspoon salt
freshly ground black pepper to taste
1 pound sharp cheddar cheese, grated
½ pound elbow macaroni

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees and position an oven rack in the upper third of the oven. Use 1 tablespoon butter to butter a 9-inch round or square baking dish.

2. In a blender, puree cottage cheese, mustard, and salt and pepper until smooth. Add milk and puree until well blended.

3. Reserve ¼ cup grated cheese for topping. In the prepared baking dish, toss together the uncooked pasta and the remainder of the grated cheese. Pour the milk mixture over it and stir well. Cover tightly with foil and bake 30 minutes.

4. Remove foil, stir gently, sprinkle with reserved cheese, and dot with remaining tablespoon butter. Bake, uncovered, 30 minutes more, until browned. Let cool 15 minutes before serving.

Serves: 4–6
Time: 1½ hours, mostly baking time

ISRAELI SPICE CHICKEN WITH TOMATO RELISH

While there are certain cookbook authors whose recipes I have come to trust and love (Jack Bishop for vegetables, Carole Walters for cookies), and boy do I love to watch cooking shows on PBS on Saturday afternoons while I’m dusting the living room, I’ve never been drawn into the celebrity chef phenomenon. Maybe if I had cable and could become addicted to the Food Network, I’d be singing a different tune, but for now I don’t know my Alton from my Emeril, and what’s more, I don’t really care. Thus, I’m not sure I’ve been fully exposed to the perky, all-pervasive annoyance of Rachael Ray. Sure, I know about the whole sexy-photos-in-FHM kerfuffle, I’ve heard the “EVOO” catchphrase, and I’ve noticed her showing up on my Wheat Thins boxes for some time now. But I’ve never seen her talking and cooking on TV, and if her mannerisms are really as grating as some people seem to find them, I apologize for the following defense of Rachael Ray.

Foodies (I use the word derisively, like “hipsters”) love to bash Rachael Ray. I suppose it was from them that I absorbed the general impression that her cooking is lowbrow. I can’t believe I bought into this, considering I’m a pretty lowbrow cooker myself; I’m scared of all the really gourmet foods, like offal and truffles and fava beans, and I’m too poor or too frugal to buy the fanciest ingredients and kitchen tools, and everything I really like is just one form or another of comfort food. But I can be snobby about certain things (making as much from scratch as possible, using fresh ingredients, and avoiding prepacked convenience foods), and I guess I assumed Rachael Ray was one of those people who write lame “quick and easy” recipes that make me a little sad, calling for bottled garlic and touting their ability to make food with six ingredients or fewer. Then I got Ray’s original 30-Minute Meals book for Christmas. I didn’t have high hopes for it, but that changed once I started paging through it. Sure, it wasn’t the style of cookbook I would buy for myself. But you know? A lot of the stuff sounded appealing, and soon I was folding over some page corners.

Because here’s the thing I respect: Rachael Ray wants you to cook good, fresh, reasonably healthy food, on weeknights after a long day of work even, and she doesn’t want you to be scared and uptight about it. She wants you to know that when you get ready to sauté something, you don’t have to carefully measure out your olive oil with white knuckles; you can just open the bottle and turn it over and twirl it “once around the pan” or “twice around the pan” like the pros do. You can measure spices with pinches and palmfuls and nothing bad will happen to you. For a lot of cooks, this is common sense, but I’ve met a lot of people who seem petrified of cooking and are convinced they’re not good at it, and they need someone fun and friendly to convince them that making home-cooked food is no big deal. Rachael Ray wants to make cooking part of your life, but it doesn’t need to become your life, or even a hobby. What’s more, the recipes don’t sacrifice flavor in favor of simplicity; they’re easy and straightforward without being bland or lazy or prefab the way so many things geared at non-cooks seem to be. It’s bourgeois cuisine and there’s nothing wrong with that. It tastes good and it doesn’t come from a can.

Case in point: this recipe from Ray’s second 30-Minute Meals book, which is packed with zesty, complex flavor and still a cinch to pull together. It comes to me courtesy of Editor A, who generously cooked it for me and Editor M and brought it to one of our habitual Friday lunches in which we all sit around and pretend we’re still coworkers (A and M left my company for greener pastures late last year). I was impressed by the chicken, wolfed down several pitas full, and resolved to make it myself as soon as possible. When I did so, on Monday night, it turned out just as well, with not too much effort on my part: mix up the spice rub and slather it on chicken, mix up the tomato relish, grill the chicken in the George Foreman, tear it up, throw everything into pitas. I even made a side dish of sautéed zucchini with garlic and mint, which Ray included in her original recipe, but I’m not bothering to include it here because although perfectly tasty and acceptable, it definitely was not the main event, nor was it really needed to make a satisfying meal. You can hunt it down on Epicurious if you must. We ate, I was pleased, A was enthusiastic, Rachael Ray was vindicated.

I’m not saying I’m going to become a huge Rachael Ray fan or anything, or go out of my way to seek out more of her recipes, or champion her to everyone I meet, or even ever mention her again on my blog. But I don’t think she’s so bad*, and I’m definitely a fan of this chicken, and I think you should make it.

*I could sure live without her cutesy use of the word "glug" as a unit of liquid measurement, though.

Israeli spice rub:
1½ tablespoons sweet paprika
1½ tablespoons ground cumin
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 teaspoon ground coriander
½ teaspoon red pepper flakes
1½ teaspoons coarse kosher salt

Tomato relish:
3 small ripe red tomatoes
2 orange or yellow tomatoes
1 small sweet onion, thinly sliced
½ cup flat-leaf parsley leaves, chopped
3 tablespoons olive oil
juice of 1 lemon
½ teaspoon ground cumin
½ teaspoon ground coriander
½ teaspoon red pepper flakes
salt

4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts (1½ to 2 pounds)
olive oil
pocket pita bread

1. Combine the spice rub ingredients in a bowl.

2. Cut each chicken breast in half horizontally to form a total of 8 thin filets. Place chicken in a shallow dish and drizzle with olive oil to barely coat the meat. Rub chicken liberally on all sides with 4 tablespoons of the spice blend. Let stand 10 minutes.

3. While chicken is marinating, seed and chop the tomatoes and combine them with the onion and parsley in a medium bowl. Combine oil, lemon juice, cumin, coriander, and red pepper flakes in a small jar with a lid. Shake dressing to mix, and pour over salad. Season with salt to taste and toss well. Let stand 10 minutes.

4. Grill chicken 6–7 minutes on each side or until juices run clear. (I believe Editor A said she sautés hers in a pan with a little oil, so give that a shot if you don’t have a grill.) When cool enough to handle, shred chicken into small pieces.

5. To serve, pile chicken and tomato relish in warmed pita pockets.

Serves: 4
Time: Well, maybe not 30 minutes unless you move very quickly, but under an hour anyway

KOFTE

Kofte! Another fun-to-say food word to add to my repertoire (along with such favorites as “kebab,” “cassoulet,” “pistou,” and “fritter”). I had never heard of these Turkish meatballs before Cooking Light thoughtfully introduced me to them, and I’m not saying these are necessarily the most authentic version, but who cares? This recipe is incredibly quick and easy (“superfast,” in Cooking Light-speak), wholesome, and quite flavorful but still straightforward—think interestingly spiced meatloaf in a pita. I’m a little wary of fresh mint—it’s just so strong—and held back a bit from the full ¼ cup when I made these on Wednesday night, but the mint turned out to be the big bright note that makes the flavor so interesting (though the undertones of cinnamon and allspice did good work, too). Next time, I’ll add all the mint without fear.

The main change I made was to grill the meat on my George Foreman rather than broiling it. The practical reason for this was that our broiler doesn’t work anymore. But also, the introductory notes to the recipe mentioned that kofte are “often grilled,” so grilling sounded almost called-for to me. I also added some diced cucumber to the plain yogurt sauce, because cucumbers and yogurt go together like ramma lamma lamma ka dinga da dinga dong, in the immortal words of Grease.

On the side, I made smash-fried potatoes, in a blind attempt to replicate the toothsome-looking ones I’d seen in a Martha Stewart magazine a few months back, the recipe for which Martha has somehow neglected to post to her site, as far as I can tell. Trying to reconstruct the process from memory, I boiled small yellow potatoes whole, drained them, gently smashed each one into a disk, and then pan-fried the disks (like fritters!) in a little olive oil with minced garlic and dried oregano. I think they would have turned out perfectly, except I didn’t let the potatoes boil quite long enough, so they splintered apart when I smashed them instead of staying in neat little cakes. What resulted was more like hash browns than I would have liked, but they were still delicious hash browns. I fully intend to persevere in my quest for the ideal smash-fried potato, but not with the kofte. Until I got midway through the recipe, I hadn’t realized that one serving involved two kofte, which, though not a heavy meal (it’s Cooking Light, remember), is substantial enough. In the future, I think a green salad on the side will be fine.

½ cup chopped white onion
⅓ cup dry breadcrumbs (I used panko)
¼ cup chopped fresh mint
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 teaspoon minced garlic
½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon ground cumin
¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon
¼ teaspoon ground red pepper
⅛ teaspoon ground allspice
1 pound lean ground beef
1 large egg white, lightly beaten
2 plum tomatoes, sliced into 8 (¼-inch-thick) slices
4 (6-inch) pita pocket breads, cut in half
¼–½ cup plain yogurt
Optional: 1 small cucumber, diced
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

1. Preheat broiler or prepare a grill.

2. Combine first 12 ingredients (through egg white) in a large bowl; mix with fingers until combined. Divide mixture into 8 equal portions; shape each portion into a 2-inch patty.

3. Place patties on a baking sheet coated with cooking spray and broil 4 minutes on each side, or grill patties to desired degree of doneness.

4. If desired, mix diced cucumber into yogurt in a small bowl and season with salt and pepper to taste.

5. Place 1 tomato slice and 1 patty in each pita half; top with yogurt sauce.

Serves: 4 (2 filled pita halves per person)
Time: 30 minutes

INDIAN-SPICED VEGETABLE FRITTERS WITH CURRY-LIME YOGURT

So, did I mention how much I love fritters? Oh yes. If this mania keeps up, I’m going to have to make “fritters” its own recipe category in the sidebar.

This recipe is from my new fave site The Smitten Kitchen. The original description, accompanied by mouthwatering photos, is here. My own, sadly less gorgeously illustrated, commentary has little to add. Everything went smoothly when I made these last Thursday night. When I tried to grate the onion on my sturdy but cheap grater (which I believe I bought using leftover food-service points at the little convenience store in my college cafeteria 10 years ago), the onion dissolved into goo, so I minced it finely with a knife—and added a note to the recipe reminding myself to do this next time. My only other changes were to divide the quantities in half (the original recipe promised to make 24 fritters, which seemed overwhelming—my halved version made 8 slightly larger ones, just the right amount for supper for A and me) and to eliminate the step of keeping the finished fritters warm in the oven while the others are frying. It’s a nice thought and all, but since the halved recipe makes just two frying batches, it didn’t seem that necessary. A wasn’t enthused at the thought of washing a baking sheet, and besides, lukewarm fritters are easier to eat at ravenous speed.

These are definitely the most loosely constructed fritters in my recipe repertoire—on the opposite end of the spectrum from the pancake-like zucchini, ham, and ricotta fritters of a few weeks ago. Getting the vegetable pieces to hang together in cakes was in fact a bit of a challenge, especially when I started getting impatient with the second batch(my number-one flaw as a cook—I’m just too hungry!) and flipping them over in the pan too early, creating an interesting fritter-hash in some cases. This is not really a problem for me, though. No matter what shape they ended up in, the fritterbits tasted as great as the whole ones. I liked that the vegetables (a cheerful, colorful, healthy mix of them) were the focus, instead of being just flecks in a batter. The Indian spices are a nice, savory twist, as was the curry-lime yogurt, though I could probably have devoured the fritters quite happily without it (as we all know, I’m just not a condiment person).

A thoroughly enjoyed these also, so much that he forgot to complain about the presence of the hated peas. Though Indian-spiced vegetable fritters may won’t depose zucchini fritters from their cherished place in our hearts, I expect them to be welcomed into regular menu rotation.

¼ cup frozen peas, defrosted
1 small onion, peeled
1 small russet potato, peeled
1 small yam or sweet potato, peeled
1 medium carrot, peeled
1 small zucchini
2 large eggs
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
¼ teaspoon ground coriander
¼ teaspoon ground turmeric
½ teaspoon ground cumin
1 tablespoon minced peeled fresh ginger
1 tablespoon minced fresh cilantro
salt and pepper to taste
olive oil

Curry-lime yogurt:
1 cup plain yogurt
1 teaspoon curry powder
½ teaspoon sugar
Several squeezes of fresh lime juice, to taste
salt and pepper to taste

1. Using a box grater, coarsely grate onion (you may have to mince onion using a knife unless your grater is very sharp), potatoes, carrot, and zucchini and place in a colander in the sink to drain.

2. In a large mixing bowl, lightly beat eggs. Whisk in flour, coriander, turmeric, and cumin. Mix in ginger, cilantro, and peas.

3. Gently press vegetables in colander to extract excess liquid, then add to bowl. Season mixture with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Using a wooden spoon or your hands, mix well but do not overwork.

4. In a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat, heat 1–2 tablespoons olive oil until hot but not smoking. Drop 4 scant ¼-cup portions of vegetable mixture into pan and flatten with spatula to form 3-inch pancakes. Fry until bottoms are golden brown and pancake holds together, about 4–5 minutes, then flip over and fry until golden-brown and crisp, an additional 4–5 minutes. Transfer to paper towels to drain; season immediately with salt and pepper.

5. Repeat Step 4 until all batter is used (you should have 8–12 fritters total).

6. Mix curry-lime yogurt ingredients together in a small bowl. Serve fritters with dollops of yogurt.

Serves: 2–4
Time: 30-40 minutes

POPPY-SEED ALMOND MUFFINS

I made these muffins two weeks ago (gack, I’m so tardy with these postings!), while watching the Oscars, as mentioned in the beef-and-curry pie saga below. I’m not a huge muffin fan; I mean, I never find myself thinking, “Gosh, I could really go for a muffin right now.” In general, sweet breads, especially at breakfasttime, are not my kettle o’ fish. (Neither are kettles of fish, for that matter.) I do really love miniature versions of larger foods, like cupcakes instead of cake and personal pan pizzas instead of, er, impersonal pan pizzas? So when I think about baking, muffins appeal more than loaves of bread. Mostly, though, I just love almond-flavored foods. My mom made these muffins while I was growing up and I adored them, though I never had any interest whatsoever in the no-doubt delicious blueberry, bran, or whatever-else muffins she baked. Now I make these from time to time and pretty much inhale them. Besides being delicious, they are so easy. And the perfect thing to bring when it’s your turn to supply the treats for a departmental meeting, take it from me. Just remember to buy almond extract, or you might have to run out to the store (no, two stores, when you realize Trader Joe’s has peppermint extract but no almond) and thus miss Jack Black and Will Ferrell and John C. Reilly singing a very funny Academy Awards song that everyone will be talking about the next day and you’ll feel left out and keep reminding yourself to find it on YouTube, but you’ll never actually get around to it. Hypothetically speaking, of course.

¾ cup sugar
½ cup margarine or butter
2 eggs
1 teaspoon almond extract
1 cup low-fat or nonfat plain yogurt
2 cups flour
3 teaspoons poppy seeds
½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon baking soda
Sliced almonds

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

2. Cream together sugar, butter, eggs, and almond extract.

3. Add yogurt, flour, poppy seeds, salt, and baking soda and stir until just moistened.

4. Grease muffin tins and fill each cup about two-thirds full of batter. Sprinkle muffins with sliced almonds. Bake 15–20 minutes.

Variation: For poppy-seed lemon muffins, replace plain yogurt with lemon yogurt and almond extract with lemon extract.

Makes: 1 dozen
Time: 30 minutes

BEEF AND CURRY PIES

I refuse to blame this recipe for the fact that both times I’ve made it, I’ve suffered a nervous semi-breakdown. The first time was understandable; after having spotted these savory-looking little pocket pies in an issue of Gourmet lent to me by P, I had been hankering for them. I carefully shopped for all the ingredients (even going to an additional grocery store to secure the frozen puff pastry), set aside some time on a Sunday evening to tackle what looked to be a lengthy baking process, got all ready to begin, and…realized I had no curry powder. Yes, I’d forgotten to buy one of the ingredients specifically named in the title of the recipe. All was repaired by A volunteering to make a quick trip to Vons, and the pies turned out very tastily, reminiscent of samosas. (Similar ingredients, with the potatoes and meat and peas, and like samosas, they weren’t that moist or saucy inside.) A, though suspicious of peas, loved them, even the rather greasy leftover ones (puff pastry just doesn’t reheat well).

Last Sunday night, when I was again possessed with the desire to make beef and curry pies, was, of course, the date of the Academy Awards. I was greatly looking forward to watching the Oscars and had seen all five of the nominated Best Picture films in preparation; what I’d forgotten was that the show airs so early in California, beginning at 5:30 p.m., whereas I spent the first 27 years of my life in Minnesota cozily watching the awards late into the night in my PJs. So as the show began, I was still hustling around, trying to make muffins for my coworkers, clean the kitchen, and of course, make dinner. The situation was completely my own doing, but nonetheless resulted in a tantrum of frustration when, two hours later, I was still embroiled in chores and missing all the good montages. I cut a few corners and was in a sulky mood when the beef and curry pies finally emerged from the oven and we sat down to eat, but you know what? They were still tasty.

So don’t think this recipe is cursed or anything. Just don’t forget to buy curry powder, don’t make these when you’d rather be watching TV, and heed these few additional notes:

1. The original recipe made 8 servings. I’ve cut it in half, because unless you’re throwing a dinner party, you don’t need 8 beef and curry pies. They don’t make good leftovers, they’re not that healthy for you, and two boxes of frozen puff pastry could cost you easily $10. Who are you, the queen? Oh, that’s right, this is Gourmet, after all. We’re lucky we weren’t asked to make our own puff pastry from scratch.

2. I might not have cooled my filling for precisely 30 minutes. “Screw this cooling completely,” I might have been heard to mutter after 20 minutes. “Lukewarm is good enough.” It didn’t make any discernible difference.

3. Your peas don’t really have to be thawed before you add them to the skillet. They’re teeny; they’ll thaw when surrounded by hot beef. Maybe they’ll help cool down that pesky filling, like tiny ice cubes!

4. I don’t own a 5-inch cookie cutter. I don’t actually own any cookie cutters. I used the 5½-inch mouth of a bowl to cut out the pastry rounds. They turned out just fine.

POSTSCRIPT, April 2011: The last time I made these, I realized it would be much easier (no cookie cutter) and more cost-effective (why throw away all the trimmings from that expensive puff pastry dough?) to use the pie-shaping method from my chicken-leek pie recipe, which simply has you roll the sheet of dough a bit thinner, slice it into four equal rectangles, and simply fold each one over the filling into a triangular pie. I still used both sheets of dough, for a total of 8 pies (I've gotten over my "these don't make good leftovers stance" and find reheated puff pastry just fine now), so I doubled the filling quantities just in case. I had some leftover filling, but oh well. Anyway, do yourself a favor and follow my streamlined advice rather than adhering to Step 5 below.

¼ pound ground beef (not lean)
½ tablespoon soy sauce
¼ teaspoon sugar
⅛ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon vegetable oil
½ medium onion, chopped (½ cup)
1½ teaspoons curry powder
1 medium russet potato, peeled and cut into ¼-inch pieces (½ cup)
3 tablespoons water
2 tablespoons frozen peas, thawed
1 (17½-ounce) package frozen puff pastry sheets, thawed
1 large egg, lightly beaten

1. Mix beef, soy sauce, sugar, and salt with your hands in a large bowl until combined well.

2. Heat oil in a 10-inch nonstick skillet over moderately high heat, then add beef and cook, stirring occasionally and breaking up into small pieces, until just browned, about 4 minutes. Remove beef from pan with a slotted spoon and place on a paper-towel-lined plate to drain.

3. Keep the skillet containing the beef drippings over moderately high heat; add onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, 3–5 minutes. Add curry powder and potatoes and cook, stirring occasionally, until potatoes are translucent, 3–5 minutes more. Add water and cook, stirring and scraping up any brown bits from bottom of skillet, until liquid is absorbed and potatoes are tender, about 1 minute. (Don't worry if your potatoes aren't totally tender by the time all the liquid is gone; they'll get cooked in the oven.) Return beef to skillet and stir in peas, then cool filling, stirring occasionally, about 30 minutes.

4. Meanwhile, preheat oven to 400 degrees.

5. Roll out one sheet of thawed puff pastry into a 12-inch square on a lightly floured surface with a lightly floured rolling pin and cut out four 5-inch rounds with a cookie cutter. Mound ⅓ cup filling atop each of two rounds, leaving a ¾-inch border around edges, then brush edges lightly with egg and cover with another round, gently stretching to cover filling completely. Gently press edges with tines of a fork to seal, then transfer pies to baking sheet. Repeat with remaining sheets of dough and filling to make a total of 4 pies (you may have some filling left over). Brush tops of pastry lightly with egg and bake until pies are deep golden brown and puffed, 25–30 minutes. Cool pies about 10 minutes.

Serves: 4
Time: 1–1½ hours

BIG ZUCCHINI, HAM, BASIL, AND RICOTTA FRITTERS

Boy, do I love fritters. Already A and I are at the point of eating zucchini fritters for dinner at least once per month, so often and with such gusto that we’re slightly abashed; as I’m making the week’s menu I’ll casually ask him, “Any requests?” and he’ll just as casually venture, “Zucchini fritters?” We treat them as a main dish now, with a little green salad or tomato salad on the side just to keep us civilized, which is important because otherwise we’d probably be eating them with our hands right out of the skillet, they’re that good. And I’m already counting the months until fresh-corn season so I can embrace Jack Bishop’s corn pancakes with the passion they deserve. And now here comes a new recipe to tempt me.

I found this recipe on my new favorite food blog, the Smitten Kitchen. Really, this is just the sort of thing I was looking for when I started my own blog—someone to hungrily, thoughtfully test new recipes for me and write about them in great detail, with helpful and delectable photographs. It’s a bit more upscale than my own style (more highbrow recipes, more challenging techniques, and did I mention the gorgeous photography?), so occasionally I have to look away or be blinded by envy. But in a nice way.

This recipe is originally from Donna Hay, who (I’m exposing my ignorance here) is apparently a sort of Australian Martha Stewart? She is apparently also a genius, because these are great fritters. Actually, they’re almost like big pancakes. I found them supremely comforting, which was important, because I made them last week when A had been endlessly sick with what turned out to be tonsillitis. I was, I think, fighting off the illness myself, and besides had grown a little oppressed with my caretaker role. I can’t think of anything more wholesome and healing-sounding than breakfasty foods for dinner, and sure enough, the fritters fit the bill perfectly. I think I could have chosen better ham (the low-sodium stuff I bought at Trader Joe’s was too much like lunchmeat, and oddly flavorless), but otherwise it was a resounding success. Which is good, because I had to buy self-rising flour especially for this recipe, and I now have a big bag to use up.

I have to admit, this recipe is even easier than my beloved zucchini fritters, since you don’t have to go through the hand-cramp-inducing rigmarole of squeezing the moisture out of the zucchini. Nothing else to note, except that one fritter makes a pretty big serving; after taking a look at the first one I made, I ended up scrapping the salad I was planning as a side dish and just had some immunity-boosting orange slices on the side.

*Exciting postscript, December 2008: No self-rising flour? No problem! Make your own by placing 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder and 1/2 teaspoon salt in a 1-cup dry measuring cup, then filling the measuring cup the rest of the way with all-purpose flour. Simplicity itself!

1 cup self-rising flour
2 eggs
1½ tablespoons butter, melted
⅓ cup milk
salt and pepper to taste
½ cup ricotta cheese
¼ cup torn basil leaves
2⅔ ounces ham, diced
1 zucchini, grated
4 tablespoons olive oil

1. Place the flour, eggs, butter, milk, salt, and pepper in a large bowl and whisk to combine. Fold in the ricotta, basil, ham, and zucchini.

2. Place 2 tablespoons oil in a medium frying pan and heat over medium heat. Add half the fritter batter to the pan (about 1 heaping cup) and cook for 2–3 minutes or until bubbles appear on surface. Flip fritter and cook 2–3 minutes longer or until both sides are golden brown. Remove to a plate.

3. Add another 2 tablespoons oil to pan and make a second fritter with remaining batter. Cut each fritter into 4 wedges and sprinkle with salt and pepper.

Serves: 2
Time: 20 minutes

BLANCS DE VOLAILLE BONNE FEMME

(Chicken Breasts With Onions, Potatoes, and Bacon)


I love that the French have a cooking style called “bonne femme,” or “good woman.” From one exhaustive minute of Google research, I’ve gathered that “good woman” dishes are those prepared in a simple, hearty, peasant style. Because, you know, those good women don’t need to be doing too much thinking. And, if they're anything like me, they loves them some bacon.

This dish, from Bistro Chicken by Mary Ellen Evans, is indeed simple and hearty, as well as bacony. There are no seasonings except salt and pepper, unless you count the bacon fat that everything gets cooked in, but the basic ingredients—bacon, onions, potatoes—blend together perfectly and make what might be an otherwise dull chicken breast into a satisfying meal. I had cooked this a couple of times last year, but then somehow forgotten about it until this week. I’m glad I rediscovered it, and A is exceedingly grateful. Serve this with a big green salad, and you too can declare yourself a good woman.

The only downside? Thanks to incredibly poor signage and meager selection in the produce department at Vons, I ended up paying a whopping $5.99 for the pearl onions. Yes, they’re cute, and taste-wise totally worth it, but—boo!

2 tablespoons canola oil
½ cup diced thick-cut mild bacon (2 to 3 slices)
4 (6-to-8-ounce) boneless, skinless chicken breasts
* If breasts are large, use 2 and cut each in half horizontally
salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
¾ cup whole baby onions, fresh or frozen (thawed, if frozen)
2 cups diced red potatoes (about ¾-inch dice)

1. Cook potatoes in boiling water until tender; drain.

2. Meanwhile, heat the oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. When hot, add the diced bacon; sauté until crisp, 4–5 minutes. Remove with a slotted spoon; drain on paper towels.

3. Season chicken with salt and pepper and add to skillet along with the onions. Sauté until golden brown on both sides, 2–3 minutes per side. Reduce heat to low, cover, and cook, turning once, until chicken is no longer pink in thickest part when cut with a knife, 4–5 minutes per side. Remove chicken to a warm platter; top with onions and cover with foil to keep warm.

4. Increase heat to medium-high. When the pan is hot, add the cooked potatoes and fry 4–6 minutes or until browned; season with salt and pepper to taste. Stir in the bacon. Scatter the potato mixture over the chicken and serve immediately.

Serves 4

INDONESIAN-STYLE CURRIED VEGETABLE SOUP

May 2008 update: Pretty, huh? If you're wondering what the orange chunks are, that's because the farmers' market didn't have red bell pepper, so I used orange instead. Also, on a whim I sprinkled cilantro over the top of the soup this time and it was awesome, so I've added it as an optional ingredient below.

I’ve had this recipe for at least 5 years, but I don’t cook it too often. When I do make it, I enjoy it, but then I forget it, catch sight of it in my recipe book and wonder, “Really? Did I really like that enough to keep it?”, and decide to test it again. No more of such shenanigans! After cooking it yet again on Sunday night, I am definitively telling you: this is a good recipe.

It’s quite different from most of the things I make; I tend not to be into “exotic” international cooking, only because I figure I can’t possibly (at least, not without a great deal of specialty grocery shopping and effort) cook anything at home that will be as authentic and complex and awesome as the Pad Thai I can get just down the street from my apartment, for instance. I’d rather leave it to the pros. But although this soup has a lot of ingredients, they’re all basic. They marry together well and create a complex, multi-layered taste, but without any difficulty whatsoever on the chef’s part. Cut things up, add them to the pan in stages, cook them, and voila! A curried, coconutty, cheerfully yellow, hearty, vegetable-laden soup.

This recipe is so flawless, I didn’t even have to make a single change. No ingredient substitutions, no quantity adjustments, no comical errors! I wish I could remember where I found it.

2 tablespoons canola oil
2 medium onions, finely diced
4 garlic cloves, minced
2 teaspoons minced gingerroot
2 cups (6 ounces) thinly sliced mushrooms
2 teaspoons ground coriander
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon turmeric
⅛ teaspoon cayenne pepper
4 cups vegetable or chicken stock
juice of 1 lemon
1 (14-ounce) can coconut milk
1 teaspoon salt
2 large boiling (waxy) potatoes, peeled and cut into ½-inch dice
1½ cups green beans, cut into 1-inch lengths
¼ cup finely diced red bell pepper
½ cup fine egg noodles or 1-inch pieces broken spaghetti
minced cilantro for garnish (if desired)

1. Warm oil in a large stockpot over medium heat. Add onions, garlic, and ginger and sauté, stirring often, 10 minutes or until onions are soft and golden.

2. Add mushrooms and sauté 5 minutes. Sprinkle on coriander, cumin, turmeric, and cayenne and cook 2 minutes, stirring often.

3. Pour in the stock, coconut milk, and salt, and bring to a boil. Add potatoes and cook 10 minutes, stirring occasionally.

4. Mix in the green beans, red pepper, and noodles, and cook at a lively simmer for 10 minutes or until vegetables and noodles are tender. Stir in lemon juice.

Serves: 4–6
Time: 1 hour

BANANA-NUT MUFFINS

I had 4 ounces of leftover cream cheese sitting in my refrigerator (after making Tortellini With Mushroom-Cheese Sauce a couple of weeks ago), and I needed something to go with the curried coconut vegetable soup I was planning to make for dinner, so on Sunday afternoon I figured I’d whip up a half-recipe of these muffins.

I got the recipe from P (along with a delicious sample of the finished product) a few months ago; she got it, I think, from AllRecipes.com. The first time I made it, the muffins tasted OK, but were flat and ugly and misshapen. This time, they were high and fluffy and golden and perfect. I don’t know what made the difference, but they turned out well enough now for me to recommend the recipe. Nothing fancy here, flavor-wise, just banana, pecans, and cinnamon (the quantity of cinnamon perpetually surprises me—a tablespoon seems like an awful lot—but it tastes good). The only novelty is that the cinnamon, nuts, and brown sugar are placed in a thin layer in the middle of the banana muffin, which is kind of visually cool, reminiscent of geologic formations. But the point is: yum.

Postscript, December 2009: I never made these again. I rarely make banana muffins anyway, and for those rare times when I do, I think I like these better.

½ cup unsalted butter
8 ounces cream cheese, softened
1¼ cup white sugar
2 eggs
1 cup mashed bananas (about 2)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2¼ cups all-purpose flour
1½ teaspoons baking powder
1½ teaspoons baking soda
¾ cup chopped pecans
2 tablespoons brown sugar
2 tablespoons ground cinnamon

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Lightly butter 2 muffin tins.

2. In a small bowl, mix together chopped pecans, brown sugar, and cinnamon.

3. Cream butter and cream cheese together. Gradually add white sugar and continue beating until light and fluffy. Add one egg at a time, beating well after each addition. Stir in mashed bananas and vanilla. Add flour, baking soda, and baking powder. Mix until batter is just moist.

4. Fill muffin cups just one-third full. Sprinkle pecan mixture over batter and top with remaining batter.

5. Bake until tops of muffins are just golden and an inserted knife comes out clean, about 10–15 minutes.

Yield: 2 dozen
Time: 30 minutes

’ATSA SPICY PIZZA SAUSAGE!

Sausage is my favorite pizza topping (and a favored ingredient in general, as you may have noticed), but its fat content and occasional textural issues (odd pieces of gristle) skeeve me out. I’ve sampled a few different brands and settled on Trader Joe’s as the best quality and value, but they only carry sweet Italian sausage, not spicy. I add red pepper flakes for extra spice, but the flavor’s still not all it could be. I’ve tried Trader Joe’s Italian chicken sausage, which has less fat and nice flavor but not that porky robustness, plus it doesn’t brown as well. Then I stumbled across this recipe on the Cooking Light web site, and immediately knew I had to try to step up my pizza-making game by trying it. My friend Editor A graciously agreed to be a guinea pig, so last Saturday night, she came over to help me assemble and cook the sausage (and then make pizza, eat it, drink wine, and watch Impromptu).

This recipe was simplicity itself to make—strictly a one-bowl affair, pretty much like making meatballs but without the trouble of actually having to roll it into balls. I did begin to get slightly nervous when we began to cook it. Thanks to the comments on the Cooking Light web site, I’d been prepared for the fact that this sausage wouldn’t brown as normal, all-pork, super-fatty sausage does. Following suggestions on the site, I cooked the sausage in batches (to allow more room in the pan) and added a little splash of olive oil for better browning. What I hadn’t been prepared for was the fact that, due to the red wine, when the sausage began to cook, it turned a bizarre shade of lavender. It also (due to the wine again) produced a lot of liquid, so I felt like I was practically boiling, rather than frying, the meat. I kept cooking until the liquid cooked off, and then the sausage did brown a bit, though it still had a much paler color than normal sausage. I tasted a few pieces and worried it might be too bland.

But we forged ahead, tossing it onto the pizza (with homemade sauce, sautéed mushrooms and zucchini, and plenty of cheese), sat down to eat, and…wow! This is some great sausage. It’s zesty, it’s meaty, it’s got complex flavor, and it’s not terrible for you. The recipe makes a ton, so now I have nice pre-cooked sausage in my freezer, ready to put on pizza at a moment’s notice. I love that I can season it just to my liking. Next time, I’m thinking even more red pepper flakes, maybe some dried oregano, and possibly garlic powder (which I normally eschew, but it permeates ground meat much more thoroughly than real garlic). This is without a doubt an excellent addition to my recipe arsenal.


1 pound ground turkey
1 pound ground pork
½ cup dry red wine
1/3 cup minced fresh parsley
2 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese
1 tablespoon fennel seeds
1½ teaspoons crushed red pepper flakes
1 teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon fried thyme
¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
4 garlic cloves, crushed

1. Combine all ingredients in a large bowl.

2. Cook sausage, in batches, in a large nonstick skillet over medium heat in a small amount of olive oil until browned, stirring to crumble. Drain.

Yields: 5 cups; sausage can be frozen in zip-top plastic bags for up to 3 months
Time: 30 minutes

BLACK BEAN TOSTADAS

Tuesday was about the third time I’ve made these, but I’ve resisted accepting the recipe into my repertoire because (a) It’s somewhat similar to other recipes I make regularly (in that it involves tortillas, cheese, and black beans), and (b) It’s one of those recipes so simple that it’s nearly intuitive, leading me to think, “I could have come up with this! Why do I need a recipe?” But of course, I didn’t come up with this; Cooking Light did. And it’s easy and speedy and delicious—like little personal taco pizzas, basically, with pureed, seasoned, lime-spiked black beans for the sauce.

I think Cooking Light suggested using storebought rotisserie chicken as a convenience, but the reason I find this recipe so genius is that it’s the perfect way to use the extra meat I sometimes end up with after roasting a chicken or making chicken-noodle soup, or even from other recipes with complimentary flavorings, like Israeli Spice Chicken. As with pizza, you can modify the toppings however you like; the original recipe calls for adding shredded lettuce and sour cream after cooking, but we don't use them, preferring instead cilantro and a drizzle of salsa. For extra zest, we also use pepper Jack instead of plain Jack. Although I think the seasonings are just about right in this recipe, it's OK to mess around with a lot of the quantities--the original recipe had very precise measurements, because that's how Cooking Light operates, but I'll admit I don't bother with measuring out exactly 3 tablespoons of cheese or 1/4 cup chicken for each tostada; I just use however much looks like a good amount to cover the tortilla.

The finished tostadas make OK leftovers, but the tortillas don't stay crisp. Sometimes I don’t want more leftovers when my fridge is already packed with them, but it's awkward to halve the recipe because then you end up with a half-can of leftover black beans. Luckily, this recipe is so versatile and easy to assemble that if I don't want 4 tostadas immediately, it's easy to prep all of the components but then only assemble 2 tostadas, storing the extra chicken, tortillas, cheese, and black bean mixture in the fridge all ready for later, perhaps a nice quick lunch on the weekend. (The avocado mixture won't last more than a day or two without turning brown and getting mushy, but you can just use storebought salsa instead if you like.)

Now that I look back at the recipe, I see that it's actually called "Soft Black Bean Tostadas." That's weird to me--a soft tostada? Why call it that when the crisp tortilla crust can be so nice? The original recipe has you broiling the tostadas, but back when my broiler was nonfunctional, I got into the habit of baking them at 450 instead, and this makes the difference--because the heat comes from below when you bake, the tortilla gets crisper while the toppings stay moister. I think this method is preferable, even though it might take a few more minutes. But if you want the "soft," super-quick version, feel free to broil instead.

1 medium avocado, peeled and chopped
1 tomato, seeded and chopped (I've sometimes used about 3/4 cup halved cherry tomatoes instead)
¼ cup thinly sliced green onion
2 teaspoons fresh lime juice
¼ teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons water
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
½ teaspoon ground cumin
⅛ teaspoon salt
⅛ teaspoon ground red pepper
1 (15-ounce) can black beans, rinsed and drained
4 (8-inch) flour tortillas
1 cup shredded cooked skinless, boneless chicken breast
¾ cup (3 ounces) shredded Monterey Jack cheese (I use pepper Jack)
Salsa and/or cilantro, if desired

1. Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.

2. Combine the first five ingredients (avocado through ¼ teaspoon salt) in a small bowl. Toss gently and set aside.

3. Combine the next six ingredients (water through black beans) in a blender; process until smooth.

4. Place the tortillas on baking sheet(s) and spread ¼ of the black bean mixture evenly over each tortilla. Top each evenly with ¼ cup chicken and 3 tablespoons cheese. Bake until cheese melts and tortilla edges begin to brown.

5. Top each tortilla with ¼ of the avocado mixture (and salsa and/or cilantro, if desired). Cut each tortilla into 4 wedges and serve.

Serves: 4
Time: 25 minutes

ROASTED GARLIC AND BUTTERNUT SQUASH CASSOULET

Thanks to this recipe, I have been wandering around the house singing “I made squash cass-oo-laaaayyy” to myself in a Bob Dylan-esque accent, to the tune of “I Threw It All Away” from Nashville Skyline. No, I don’t know why. Just roll with me here, folks.

Maybe I’m being reminded of Minnesota and its greatest singer-songwriter (sorry, Prince) because it’s been record-breakingly “cold” here in California. It is weird, and my sympathies go out to the homeless, the citrus growers, and anyone whose pipes are frozen, but if I hear one more panicky TV news fluff report about the “arctic” temperatures, I’m going to scream. (Example: over footage of a man wearing a light windbreaker jogging along the beach on a clear, sunny, beautiful 50-degree day, the newscaster says darkly, “Training for an upcoming marathon, John Doe refuses to let the bad weather keep him from running.”) Ah, Southern California, where if a small patch of ice appears on a freeway exit ramp, they close the whole ramp down. These people would make terrible pioneers.

Anyway, when I saw this cassoulet lovingly photographed in Cooking Light, it seemed like just the thing for a brisk evening in our drafty apartment. (Where we have not yet turned on the heat, because we’re Tough Midwesterners, and besides, isn’t that what we have cats for? To drape over ourselves for warmth?) Y’all know I’m not great fan of the bean, but I’ve gotten to the point where I can enjoy certain kinds (white, black) in moderation, as long as they’re warm and at least partially broken down (but no cold, slimy, hard chickpeas on my salads, please!). I pointed to myself and A that the glories of roasted garlic, caramelized onions, butternut squash, bacon, and toasted breadcrumb topping would mitigate the risk of any unpleasant overbeaniness. Since I had the day off yesterday and the recipe is a tad time-intensive, it seemed the perfect opportunity to give it a whirl, and…yum! A cinch to make—seems like a lot of ingredients but they come together easily, and most of the long cooking time can be spent on the couch with a book while the garlic roasts, onions caramelize, and cassoulet bakes in the oven. The flavors blended together nicely. It was warm, wholesome, and comforting. It was also unique from most of my other recipes. Pretty bean-centric, so I’m not going to start making it every week or anything, but I will make it again, and A agreed to eat it again. (Asked for his review, he couldn’t quite overcome the presence of beans: “It has beans in it.” “Well, but for beans it was pretty good, right?” “It still had beans in it.” But the fact that he ate it and will eat it again is a ringing endorsement, coming from a confirmed bean-hater. I am so relieved not to be reliving the Ratatouille Wars of 2004.)

As a bonus, this was my first time cooking with pancetta. The stuff I found at Trader Joe’s was pre-chopped into such miniscule dice that I don’t think I got a good solid taste of the stuff; just little bursts of vague meaty saltiness. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Cooking Light says you can substitute regular smoked bacon, but use less, because it’s more assertive than pancetta, which is unsmoked. Also, I’ve been cooking all this past week with fresh bay leaves, which I bought at the farmers’ market. The flavor is much more robust than the sad dried-up ones in my spice rack.

Tips: I don’t have a Dutch oven, so I just cooked everything in a heavy skillet on the stovetop and then transferred it into a 2-quart casserole dish when it came time to pop it in the oven. Also, I made just a half-recipe, which provided 4 generous servings. After I got the garlic head all roasted, I noticed that the recipe only has you use half of it, which meant that, in halving the recipe, I was only supposed to use a fourth of the head. This seemed wasteful, so I used half the head and it was great. The other half I mixed with a little butter and spread on some baguette left over from making the bread crumbs. When I took the top off the cassoulet to cook it uncovered for the last 15 minutes of baking, I threw the garlic-laden bread slices on a baking sheet and put it in the oven to toast, giving me garlic bread and cassoulet all at the same time! We ate our meal with some apple slices on the side, but a nice green salad would also accompany it well.

1 whole garlic head
4 ounces pancetta (or regular bacon), chopped
2 cups vertically sliced onion
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tablespoon white wine vinegar
4½ cups (½-inch) cubed peeled butternut squash (about 2 pounds)
½ cup vegetable broth (I used homemade chicken broth)
½ teaspoon dried thyme (I used fresh)
¼ teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
4 (16-ounce) cans cannellini or other white beans, rinsed and drained
1 bay leaf
2 (1-ounce) slices white bread
2 tablespoons grated fresh Parmesan cheese
½ teaspoon olive oil
1 tablespoon chopped fresh parsley

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

2. Remove white papery skin from garlic head (do not peel or separate the cloves). Wrap garlic head in foil. Bake 1 hour; cool 10 minutes. Separate cloves; squeeze to extract garlic pulp. Set half of garlic pulp aside; reserve remaining garlic pump for another use. Discard skins.

3. When garlic has been baking for 30-40 minutes, heat a large Dutch oven (or heavy skillet) over medium-high heat. Add pancetta; sauté 5 minutes or until crisp. Remove pancetta from pan with a slotted spoon and place on paper towels to drain, reserving drippings in pan. Add onion and 1 tablespoon oil to drippings in pan; sauté 5 minutes. Reduce heat to medium-low; cook 25 minutes or until onion is very tender and browned, stirring frequently. Stir in vinegar.

4. Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

5. Add garlic pulp, pancetta, squash, and next 6 ingredients (through bay leaf) to onion mixture, stirring well. If using a skillet, transfer mixture to an oven-safe 9x12 baking dish. Pulse bread in a food processor to make crumbs (or just tear them by hand), and combine breadcrumbs, Parmesan, and ½ teaspoon olive oil in a small bowl; sprinkle evenly over squash mixture.

6. Cover and bake 50 minutes or until squash is tender. Uncover and bake an additional 15 minutes or until topping is browned. Discard bay leave. Sprinkle with parsley.

Serves: 8
Time: 2½ hours

PIZZA SAUCE

I've finally accepted the dearth of good pizza in L.A. and have decided to just make my own. I'm not quite energetic enough to make my own crust, not when Trader Joe's sells tasty pizza dough for just 99 cents that cooks up nice and crisp. But I do whip up this nice, easy sauce based on my parents' recipe. Topped with sausage, mushrooms, and zucchini for me, and pepperoni and jalapenos for A, plus mozzarella, of course, it's a fast and delicious Friday dinner.


1 tablespoon olive oil
2 garlic cloves, chopped
1 small onion, chopped
1 teaspoon fennel seed
1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes
16 ounces plain canned tomato sauce
1 teaspoon vinegar (I use red wine vinegar)
Small dash of soy sauce
1 teaspoon dried oregano (or fresh oregano to taste)
1 teaspoon dried basil (or fresh basil to taste)
Black pepper to taste

1. Heat oil in saucepan over medium heat. Saute garlic and onion until soft. Add fennel and red pepper flakes and saute 30 seconds longer.

2. Add remaining ingredients, mix, and simmer about 20 minutes, stirring frequently.

Makes about enough for one and a half baking-sheet-sized pizzas (I freeze the leftover half-portions, so after two sauce-making sessions I have enough in the freezer for a third whole pizza).
Time: 30 minutes

ROSEMARY-SCENTED POTATOES TOPPED WITH CARAMELIZED ONIONS AND GRUYERE

Whoa, doesn’t this recipe title sound incredibly fancy? But really, it’s, um, baked potatoes topped with onions and cheese and some rosemary. (Ack, Cooking Light, you went overboard with “scented.” What is this, a spa treatment?) It’s one of those recipes that fails to knock my socks off only because I keep thinking, “Well, I could have thought of this.” I mean, you can put anything on a baked potato—you don’t really need a recipe, right? But of course, I had never put caramelized onions or rosemary on a baked potato, and it tasted delicious. Baked potatoes are so easy and cozy, but they need a little something, and onions add a nice zing. Potatoes and rosemary are of course a match made in heaven, and the Gruyere adds a kick. (The flavors are quite similar to French onion soup, actually.) We had these last night, with green salad on the side and some perfectly ripe pears rounding out this easy, fallish meal.

I would make it again, with a few adjustments. The onions definitely needed to cook longer than the 20 minutes specified by the recipe, and I think I’d cook them at a lower heat—at medium they browned quickly, but didn’t quite become all soft and sweet and truly caramelized. Perhaps this is why the whole dish seemed dry, or maybe they needed to be cooked in a little more butter (yes, I know this is Cooking Light, but let’s not sacrifice quality here). Next time, I think I’ll start the onions right after putting the potatoes in the oven, and cook them for about an hour over medium-low heat, covering them for part of that time so they steam and get tender before browning. Also, the original recipe doesn’t call for salt, and what is a potato without salt? The cheese is a little salty, but not enough to flavor the whole potato. I added a little salt to the onion mixture when I added the pepper, but ended up sprinkling more on top later. I think it would be better to add some to the inside of the potatoes after opening them up (I also mashed the potato flesh slightly with a fork, because I like it soft).

The original recipe serves 6, but I prefer 4 servings (two for me and A to eat right away, two for us to eat later), so I did my calculations (yay, multiplying fractions!) and came up with the following 2/3-sized version, which also reflects the changes in method I mentioned above:

4 medium baking potatoes (about 2 pounds)
1 tablespoon butter
4 cups thinly sliced onion (3 medium-large onions)
3 large garlic cloves, minced
2 teaspoons finely chopped fresh rosemary
Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
½ cup (2 ounces) shredded Gruyere cheese

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

2. Pierce potatoes with a fork, and bake for 1 hour or until tender.

3. Meanwhile, melt butter in a large nonstick skillet over medium-low heat. Add onion and garlic; cook, covered, 20 minutes until soft. Uncover and cook another 20 minutes or so, until onions are browned. Stir in chopped fresh rosemary and salt and pepper to taste.

4. When potatoes are cooked, remove them from the oven and preheat the broiler.

5. Split the potatoes lengthwise, cutting to, but not through, the other side, then put one finger on each end of the potato and squeeze together to open them up a little. Sprinkle a little salt and pepper inside, and gently stir and fluff the potato flesh with a fork. Divide onion mixture between potatoes and sprinkle each with 2 tablespoons Gruyere (you may have to squish the filling down inside the potatoes slightly to fit it all in). Place potatoes on baking sheet and broil 3 minutes or until cheese is lightly browned.

Serves: 4
Time: 1½ hours

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)

MOM’S FOCACCIA

Two mom recipes in one week! She’ll be so proud.

I am not a baker, but I was pleasantly surprised by how easy this bread was to make and how well it turned out—simple, rustic, tasting of rosemary and red onion, crisp outside and soft inside. I made it on Wednesday night, because I’d gotten home earlier than usual (thank you, optometrist appointment that allowed me to miss the last two hours of work). I’d planned to make Butternut Squash-Leek Soup, and soup is always nicer with something to dip into it, and I thought the flavors would go well together, so I decided to try my mom’s focaccia recipe. I always enjoyed it while growing up, though back then I was more of an onion-phobe and would occasionally get squeamish about the soft, slimy-seeming pieces of onion interrupting the soft sponginess of the bread. (You’ll notice I had a similar texture-based complaint about the presence of dried fruit in granola—apparently, I didn’t care for textural contrasts in my food at the time.) Now I like onions, so why not?

The kitchen got messy and the loaves were a little deformed, but that’s just my baking incompetence. Cut into wedges, the bread looked and tasted delicious, paired felicitously with the soup, and was a big hit with A. (He was neutral about the soup, but high-fived me for the bread.) In fact, we ended up eating an entire loaf (the smaller of the two, at least) between us during that one meal. I’d really like to try the focaccia as a base for a sandwich this weekend. That is, if there’s any left by then.



1 packet dry yeast (1 tablespoon)
1 teaspoon sugar
1 tablespoon salt
2 teaspoons olive oil
1 tablespoon fresh rosemary (or 2 tablespoons dried; of course, I recommend the fresh)
½ cup finely chopped red onion
4 to 4½ cups all-purpose flour

1. Stir together yeast, sugar, and ½ cup warm water in a large bowl, and let stand 5 minutes.

2. To the yeast mixture, add salt, 1 cup warm water, olive oil, rosemary, and onion. Gradually stir in flour.

3. Knead dough on a floured surface (if dough seems too sticky, add more flour). Place in an olive-oil-greased bowl, cover with a kitchen towel, and let rise until double, about 45 minutes.

4. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

5. Divide the dough into two pieces. Shape each piece into a flat round, about ½ inch thick. Place on olive-oil-greased baking sheets and brush loaves generously with olive oil. Let stand for 15 minutes.

6. Bake at 350 on the bottom oven rack for 15 minutes, then move to the top rack and bake for 10-15 more minutes, until lightly browned.

Makes: 2 loaves
Time: 1 hour 45 minutes (mostly rising/baking time)

QUICK GREEN BEAN “CASSEROLE”

For someone who thinks America’s Test Kitchen is too fussy, why am I posting two recipes from them in one week? Well, I have to admit those people do good work. I ripped a page on “Skillet Green Beans” out of a Cook’s Magazine I found in the lunchroom at work, and when I saw this updated take on what we Minnesotans call “green bean hot dish,” I had to try it. So I made a half-recipe on Monday night, as a side dish for Chicken Scaloppine With Parmesan. Verdict: I wouldn’t call it “quick,” exactly; it’s quicker than baking a casserole, I guess, but not something I see myself whipping up at the drop of a hat after a long day. It’s not difficult to make—the fact that it uses only one skillet is nice—but complicated enough that I found it challenging to make it while also trying to do a main dish (even one of my simpler chicken dish). The recipe just requires a little too much constant attention—there are no “let simmer for 30 minutes” steps where you can walk away and do something else. In the future, maybe I’d try some sort of baked chicken for the entrée, so it can cook while I devote my full concentration to the green beans. Because I would definitely make this again—it tastes great! Surprisingly like the real thing, and yet way better than the canned soup, canned green beans, and weird canned french-fried onions. I don’t think I got my shallots fried crisply enough (I suspect I got impatient and started before the oil was fully hot), but still? Very yummy, and it did pair nicely with the chicken. I was also thinking it might be possible to serve this over noodles as a main dish, if you had maybe just a little more sauce. Hmm, I’ll experiment and get back to you.

Postscript, December 2009: Meh, not worth it. I never made it again.

3 large shallots, sliced thin (about 1 cup)
Salt and ground black pepper
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
5 tablespoons vegetable oil
10 ounces cremini (brown) mushrooms, stems discarded, caps wiped clean and sliced ¼ inch thick
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 medium onion, minced (about 1 cup)
2 medium garlic cloves, minced or pressed through a garlic press (about 2 teaspoons)
1½ pounds green beans, stem ends trimmed
3 sprigs fresh thyme (the recipe wants you to use whole sprigs and remove them later, but I just used the leaves and left them in)
2 bay leaves
¾ cup heavy cream
¾ cup low-sodium chicken broth

1. Toss shallots with ¼ teaspoon salt, 1/8 teaspoon pepper, and 2 tablespoons flour in small bowl; set aside. Heat 3 tablespoons oil in 12-inch nonstick skillet over medium-high heat until smoking; add shallots and cook, stirring frequently, until golden and crisp, about 5 minutes. Transfer shallots with oil to baking sheet lined with triple layer of paper towels.

2. Wipe out skillet and return to medium-high heat. Add remaining 2 tablespoons oil, mushrooms, and ¼ teaspoon salt; cook, stirring occasionally, until browned, about 8 minutes. Transfer to plate and set aside.

3. Wipe out skillet. Heat butter in skillet over medium heat; when foaming subsides, add onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until edges begin to brown, about 2 minutes. Stir in garlic and remaining tablespoon of flour, then toss in green beans, thyme, and bay leaves. Add cream and chicken broth, increase heat to medium-high, cover, and cook until beans are partly tender but still crisp at center, about 4 minutes. Add mushrooms and continue to cook, uncovered, until green beans are tender and sauce has thickened slightly, about 4 minutes. Off heat, discard bay leaves and thyme sprigs (as I said, I didn’t use the whole sprigs, just the leaves, which I left in, because I like thyme). Adjust seasonings with salt and pepper. Transfer to serving dish, sprinkle evenly with shallots, and serve.

Serves: 8 as a side dish
Time: 30 minutes