Ph(e)D Up

spring can really hang you up the most

This week, Durham decided that enough was enough with all this “winter” nonsense and burst forth into spring: 77 degrees; a soft, refreshing breeze; the realization that, as much as I may miss the urban centers of the Northeast, the South is tops when it comes to soul-healing weather.

I had a butternut squash all ready to go (and I will probably make a big pot of soup before the week is up). But it felt like jinxing the weather to cook such a wintry food on such a lovely day. Today was a day for cheerful, sunny, green food. My fridge was failing me… what to do? One quick trip to the grocery store and an hour later, I had the answer: herbed risotto with fresh peas and a spinach and tomato salad dressed with olive oil, salt, and fresh lemon juice. Eaten on the rooftop deck with crusty sourdough, it was pretty much heaven.

Spring risotto

• Small white onion, peeled and roughly chopped
• 2-3 garlic cloves, peeled
• 1 cup Arborio rice
• 1/2 cup dry white wine (I usually opt for Sauvignon Blanc)
• 3-5 cups vegetable broth
• 1 cup cooked peas
• 2 cups fresh herbs: I used a blend of parsley, basil, and rosemary
• 1/2 cup Parmesan
• Olive oil
• Salt and pepper

Pulse the onion and garlic in a food processor until chopped (or, for those unlucky enough to be without the darling Cuisinart that has proved the best Christmas present ever, mince) (but seriously, just get a Cuisinart). Heat the olive oil in a large pot (medium heat is best) and saute the onion and garlic (add a few sprigs of chopped parsley, if you like) until soft and fragrant. Add the rice, stirring until the oil mixture coats the grains. Wait 1-2 minutes, then add a few grinds of pepper and a pinch of salt and stir in the white wine.

Once the wine has cooked off, add about a cup of vegetable broth. Stir until the broth is cooked off, add another half a cup or so, and repeat. (You’ll probably end up using around 4 cups of broth, but you never know: today, it only took me 3; it’s taken me 5 in the past.) Keep doing this until the rice is cooked through: you want it to be al dente (not mushy), but definitely not crunchy. The best risottos are soft and creamy not because you’ve added actual cream, but because you’ve let the rice absorb enough broth that the grains puff up and get that amazing silky texture.

Meanwhile, either puree the herbs in a food processor or mince them. Prepare the salad while you’re at it!

When the rice is cooked, stir in the herbs, the peas, and the Parmesan, and taste. Does it need more salt? More pepper? More cheese? More acid (I usually use lemon juice or lemon zest if so)? Every risotto is different. Season according to taste. Serve outside, in awesome weather.

playing house

Sometimes, when I have been talking to my friends who have actual, office-type jobs, the alarming freedom of the grad student lifestyle gets to me, and I start to feel like an overgrown college student. When this happens, I resort to my favorite coping strategy: busting out the cloth napkins, opening a bottle of wine, and inviting friends over for dinner. Hey presto, adulthood! This post documents the last time this occurred, and the culinary result: mustard-Balsamic tofu, pan-browned Brussels sprouts, and red quinoa.

Mustard-crusted tofu with a balsamic glaze

• Tofu, cut into 1.5 cm slabs, pressed and drained very thoroughly (1/3-1/2 of a 1 pound package per person, depending on appetite and side dishes. I was serving this with a rather substantial vegetable and very filling red quinoa, so I stuck with 1/3) (also, I mean it about the draining. You want as little water as possible)
• Whole-grain mustard—I used Grey Poupon’s whole-grain Dijon because my friends are WORTH IT
• Olive oil
• Balsamic vinegar, about twice as much by volume as you want for the glaze

Put a generous smear of mustard on each side of the tofu slabs. Heat a few tablespoons of olive oil in a large skillet. When the pan is sizzling, place the tofu slabs carefully in the pan. Cook them for about 4-5 minutes, then flip them so the other side can crust up too. Timing can be tricky here—you don’t want the mustard coating to burn, but if you try to turn them too soon, the mustard will still be too liquid and may just come off in the pan. Use your best judgment and your best tongs/spatula. When both sides are crusty and dark brown, you’re in business.

Meanwhile, make the balsamic glaze. This is ridiculously easy but also a gourmet-type touch that makes it seem like you know what you are doing. Just heat the vinegar in a saucepan over medium or medium-low, whisking on the regular. It will reduce by about half and thicken up into a more syrupy consistency. Depending on the quality of the vinegar, you may need to add a pinch of sugar to balance the sour tang, but wait until the consistency is almost there before you do this—it will probably get sweeter as it reduces, and you don’t want to ruin a vat of vinegar. Serve the tofu with a drizzle of balsamic glaze. (See, doesn’t that sound grown-up?)

Best ever Brussels sprouts

• Brussels sprouts, washed, stems trimmed, and split in half lengthwise
• Olive oil
• Salt
• Segmented lemon
• Handful of Parmesan

Toss the sprouts in a bowl with a glug of olive oil and a grind or two of salt, trying to make sure the oil is evenly rubbed in.

Heat a few more tablespoons of olive oil in a large pan over medium. When the pan is hot (but not to the point that the oil is popping—you want the sprouts to caramelize, not burn before they’re cooked through), arrange the sprouts, cut side down. Cook for a few minutes (usually around 5?) until they are golden-brown on the cut side and getting tender. Flip them, cook for just a minute until the other side is beginning to brown as well, then remove from the pan and sprinkle with Parmesan.

Serve with a wedge of lemon—a squeeze of fresh juice right before eating makes these unbelievably delicious.

resolutions

New Year’s resolution #4: stop neglecting my poor little Tumblr! It helps that my family, perhaps as a hint, gave me lots of great cooking gear for Christmas. I am now the proud owner of an ergonomic one-handed rolling pin/baking detailer, a berry-centric recipe book, lots of garlic-handling tools, and the world’s tiniest and most adorable food processor. (This last gift is incredibly useful, but makes me feel very angry about the amount of time I spent dicing food before I had it.) And what better way to kick off a year of cooking than a potluck?

Vegetarian Hoppin’ John

• Diced white onion
• 2 garlic cloves, minced or crushed
• One diced (or food-processed!!) bell pepper (I used yellow)
• Bay leaf
• Pinch each of cayenne and red pepper flakes
• Olive oil
• 3-4 cups soaked, drained, and rinsed black-eyed peas
• 1 can diced tomatoes with green chilies (I used the “zesty mild” variety and was pleasantly surprised)
• 8-9 cups broth
• 2 cups long grain rice
• Salt and pepper
• Shredded smoked cheddar, chopped scallions, and Tabasco for garnish

First, to prepare the peas: after picking over the dried peas, you can either soak them overnight or do the quick-soak method. I chose the latter because I am disorganized. Bring the peas to a rapid boil (1 cup water per 1/4 cup dried peas), boil for a few minutes, and remove from the heat, keeping the pot covered. Let sit for an hour, then drain the water and rinse in a strainer. Ready to go!

In a large pot, sauté the onion, garlic, bell pepper, bay leaf, cayenne, and red pepper flakes until the onion is soft and the garlic is fragrant. Add the peas and tomatoes, plus 4-5 cups of the broth, then cover and simmer for 80-90 minutes, until the peas are tender.

Add the rice and the rest of the broth, then cook, keeping the cover on, until the rice is al dente. Add salt and pepper to taste and serve garnished with the smoked cheddar, scallions, and Tabasco.

This will make a big pot, but it’s great comfort food, keeps fairly well, and is pretty good for you (especially if you go light on the cheese garnish and add whatever vegetables you want—I’m thinking another bell pepper or two and a cup of chopped celery next time). Plus, it’s traditionally eaten in January for good luck in the new year.

Diet-busting mac & cheese

• 1 pound large macaroni
• Olive oil
• 3.5 cups milk
• 1/2 cup flour
• 1 stick butter
• 1/4-1/2 teaspoon cayenne
• 1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
• 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
• 2.5 cups shredded Gruyere
• 1 1/4 cups shredded Fontina
• 1 cup shredded Parmesan
• 1 1/4 cups shredded sharp cheddar
• 1.5 cups Panko bread crumbs
• 3-4 tablespoons truffle oil for garnish

Preheat the oven to 375 and butter/grease/cooking spray a baking dish. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil, add about a tablespoon of olive oil, and then cook until the pasta is al dente (7-8 minutes) and drain it. Heat the milk in a saucepan. While it’s heating, melt 6 tablespoons of the butter and whisk the flour into it for 2 minutes. Add the hot milk, whisking as you go, and cook it down for a minute or two.

Remove from heat and add the spices, the Gruyere, the Fontina, the cheddar, and half the Parmesan. Stir until smooth. Mix the pasta and the sauce, then pour into the baking dish.

Then melt the last few tablespoons of butter and mix with the Panko and the rest of the Parmesan. Sprinkle the topping over the pasta, finishing it off with a grind or two of pepper.

Bake for 30-35 minutes, or until the top is golden-brown and the sauce is bubbling. Drizzle with truffle oil before serving.

carrot and stick… but mostly carrot

When it comes to cake, I am usually of the “if it isn’t chocolate, THIS GIRL ISN’T INTERESTED” school of thought. But birthdays are a different story: whatever the birthday-celebrator wants goes. This week, the birthday boy was my friend Dave, and he wanted carrot cake. I’ve never made carrot cake before, and I’ve rarely had it, since it generally involves nuts, and thanks to my terrible allergy nuts generally involve a trip to the emergency room. But friendships are friendships and birthdays are birthdays, so carrot cake it was—and it was a hit. Please note the licked-clean plate below and the fact that seconds—dare I say thirds?—were had by all.

Spiced carrot cake

• 1 cup brown sugar
• 1 cup white sugar
• 4 eggs
• 3/4 cup canola oil
• 1/2 cup unsweetened applesauce
• 1 Tbsp. vanilla extract, plus 1 tsp. extra for frosting
• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 2 tsp. baking soda
• 2 tsp. baking powder
• 1/2 tsp. salt
• 1 Tbsp. cinnamon
• 1/4 tsp. nutmeg
• 1/4 tsp. cloves
• 1/4 tsp. ginger
• 3 cups grated carrots
• 8 oz. cream cheese, softened
• 1/2 cup butter, softened
• 2 cups powdered sugar

Preheat oven to 350 and prepare a 9 by 13 (or so!) baking pan. Combine the eggs, sugar, canola oil, applesauce, and 1 Tbsp. of the  vanilla; beat until mixed. Sift in the flour, stirring as you go, then stir in the baking soda, baking powder, salt, and spices. Finally, stir in the carrots. Pour into the pan and bake for 45 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean (mostly clean, even—it will continue to bake after you remove it, thanks to the heat, and you don’t want it to dry out. Trust your judgment).

While the cake bakes, make the frosting: combine the cream cheese, butter, powdered sugar, and remaining 1 tsp. of vanilla, and beat until well-mixed.

When the cake is done, let it cool on a wire rack, then frost it.

potluck parties: crumbles and cakes

Last week, with the holiday weekend coming up—a weekend of two Halloween parties in as many states—I decided to add yet another fall festivity to my plans. This is how potluck #2 came into being.

And it was glorious—bountiful, casserole-heavy, and altogether much more like Thanksgiving than a Halloween potluck has any right to be. My contributions, neither of which I’d made before and both of which I will most certainly make again: a savory butternut squash crumble and a chocolate-ginger cake.

Butternut squash crumble (adapted from La Tartine Gourmande; a great dinner party dish—this should serve 15 or 20 as a main course)

• 2 butternut squash, peeled, seeded, and cut into 1” cubes
• 4 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 3/4 sticks (14 tablespoons) butter (I KNOW. But it’s so good you have to forgive it)
• 2 chopped red onions
• 2 teaspoons ground coriander
• 2 bay leaves
• 2 cups canned tomatoes
• 10 chopped fresh sage leaves
• 4 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
• 2 cups grated parmesan
• 2 cups flour
• 1 cup toasted pine nuts
• Salt and pepper

Cook the onion, coriander, and bay leaves in the olive oil and 2 tablespoons of the butter over medium heat until the onion is soft. Add the tomatoes, stir it all up, and cook for another 5 minutes or so.

Add the squash and the sage, with salt and pepper to taste. Stir, cover, and cook for 30 minutes or until the squash is cooked through.

Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 350 and make the crumble: mix the flour, 1 cup of the parmesan, the pine nuts, 1 tablespoon of the parsley, and a light grinding of pepper, then work in the butter (diced and at room temp) until it forms crumbs.

When the squash is cooked, remove the bay leaves, then pour into greased baking pans (I used an 8” square and a 9” by 11”, but 2 10” squares would be better), sprinkle with the topping, and cook for 30-40 minutes, until the topping begins to crisp up and turn golden brown.

Chocolate ginger cake (from Moosewood)

• 2/3 cup buttermilk
• 2 large eggs
• 1/3 cup applesauce
• 1/4 cup vegetable oil
• 1 tsp. vanilla extract
• 1 1/4 cups brown sugar
• 1 cup flour
• 2/3 cup unsweetened cocoa
• 1 tsp. cinnamon
• 1 tsp. baking soda
• 1/2 tsp. baking powder
• 1/2 tsp. salt
• 1 Tbsp. grated fresh ginger root

Preheat the oven to 350 and grease a 9” round cake pan. Mix the buttermilk, applesauce, vegetable oil, vanilla extract, and brown sugar, then beat in the eggs (gently!). Sift in the flour, cocoa, cinnamon, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Stir in the ginger. Pour the batter into the pan and bake for 30 minutes, or until a taster comes out clean.

company dinners

I find it ridiculously charming when wives in old books and movies (also: actual older people) talk about their “company dinners”—the meals they’ve mastered for when the boss visits or the in-laws come to town. I am not proud of this old-fashioned gender-stereotyping housewifery, but what’s a girl to do? At least I can say that I have finally found my company dinner, received with enthusiasm by guests three times in a row now: tofu with peanut sauce, vegetables, and brown rice.

Spicy-sweet peanut tofu (adapted from Ken Charney’s The Bold Vegetarian Chef, on which I’ve relied since high school and for which I have a respect bordering on worship)

• 1 lb. tofu, cut into 1” cubes, pressed and drained
• 3 garlic cloves, crushed in a press
• 1 Tbsp. minced fresh ginger
• 3 Tbsp. natural (no added sugar!) peanut butter
• 1.5 Tbsp. maple syrup
• 1 Tbsp. honey
• 1 tablespoon toasted sesame oil
• 1 tsp. soy sauce
• 1 tsp. balsamic vinegar
• 1 tsp. crushed red pepper
• 1 tsp. salt
• 1.5 cups vegetable broth
• Handful of crushed peanuts
• Canola or vegetable oil for frying

Heat the oil in a pan until shimmering, then fry the tofu, turning every so often to ensure that it’s browned on all sides.

Meanwhile, blend all the other ingredients to make the sauce.

Remove the tofu and let it drain on a paper towel, then put it back in the pan and pour the sauce in, coating the tofu completely. Let it marinate for 20-30 minutes, then cook at medium heat, stirring occasionally, until it’s at the consistency you like. (I’m usually happy with it at around 15 minutes.) Serve topped with the crushed peanuts, over brown rice and whatever vegetables you have on hand—I opted for steamed broccoli and sautéed bell pepper. Voilà! Anachronistic company dinner achieved.

death by chocolate

Sometimes, when you are emerging from a pile of reading and realizing that the entrée you are planning for a girls’ dinner tomorrow has yet to find its dessert, the fussy grandmother instinct just takes over and you find yourself elbow-deep in dark chocolate brownies without knowing why or when.

Oh, this doesn’t happen to you? Shame. (See above. Oh my GOD.)

If you are not a chocolate person—and I mean that in a deep, very serious way, no “milk chocolate only” manners allowed—then this is not for you.

Read More

sweater weather

Sometime last week, fall began to happen. The humidity dropped; the temperature fell below 60; the sky took on that crisp shade of wind-buffeted blue.

Some people might mourn summer. I’ll certainly miss the tomatoes. But I am more than ready for this seasonal transition. Being in possession of a wardrobe consisting almost entirely of scarves, black tights, and medium-weight sweaters, I love fall, and last night I decided to ring in the new season in style: with mulled wine and spiced pumpkin bread. The latter is an Old Family Recipe, and the former was so good that it may now become one.

Pumpkin bread

• 3 scant cups sugar
• .5 tsp. baking powder
• 2 tsp. baking soda
• 3.5 cups flour (not being in my own kitchen, and thus having limited resources at my disposal, I wound up using whole wheat flour, which wound up being great)
• 1.5 tsp. salt
• 1.5 tsp. cinnamon
• Ground cloves, nutmeg, and ginger—a generous pinch of each
• 4 eggs, beaten
• 2/3 cup water
• 1 cup oil
• 1 can (16 oz.) of pumpkin, or 1 pound of roasted, mashed/puréed pumpkin

Preheat oven to 350. Mix dry ingredients, then add wet.

Pour into two greased loaf pans, top with a sprinkle of sugar for a good crust, and bake until a knife inserted in the center comes out clean—it usually takes about an hour.

Mulled wine

• Bottle of red wine
• 1.5 cups of orange juice
• 3/8 cup sugar
• Peel from one orange
• Cinnamon stick
• 10-12 whole cloves

Dissolve the sugar in the orange juice and add the cinnamon stick. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer. Pierce the peel with the whole cloves and add to the mixture. Simmer for 30 minutes, then pour in the wine and heat through (be careful not to let it reach a boil once you’ve added the wine).

Serve garnished with a cinnamon stick and (if you feel like being decadent) a square of orange-infused dark chocolate.