Moroccan Chickpeas & Kumquats over Cauliflower Steaks

Veglets, I think winter is slowly winding down. The other day I had a startling thought: without really putting too much effort into the whole thing, we've been eating pretty locally this past year. Oh, I wouldn't call myself a truly dogmatic locavore by any stretch of the imagination. I haven't given up my olive oil or my chocolate or my spices. But for the most part (with the occasional moment of weakness-- DAMN YOU, avocados!) I haven't splurged on any tropical/wildly unseasonal produce.

Having the CSA really helped with this of course-- although we chose not to get a winter share this time around, the memory of all of that incredibly fresh and vibrant produce has really turned me off of flabby supermarket imports. Plus towards the end of our CSA season we got a ton of storage vegetables that have really kept us going through the winter.
Until recently, of course. Recently I've been on a huge citrus kick. Perhaps my Vitamin C levels are a bit low, perhaps I just need a bit of edible sunshine during these dark days, but I have been buying and consuming citrus like it's going out of style.

Now of course citrus isn't local to Philadelphia. But it is in season this time of year, so I tell myself to justify my wanton purchasing of lemons and limes and clementines.

The other day I was shopping at Whole Foods, minding my own beeswax, when a glistening clamshell of kumquats beckoned to me. "You know you want me", they said in their naughtiest citrine tones. I walked away. They were too expensive. I didn't have any recipes in mind for them.
But somehow they ended up in my cart anyway. How could I resist these little cuties, with their sweet, edible rinds and their pucker-inducing centers?

And just like that, it all came together for me: inspired by this recipe for Cauliflower Steaks with Olive Relish and Tomato Sauce from Bon Appetit, I decided to adapt it for my kumquats and give it a little more funk with some Moroccan flavors.

Although I know it would be awfully snooty of me to say I've improved upon a recipe from Bon Appetit, I will toot my own horn just a bit. This dish is goooood. Tart and spicy, just the thing to wake up your mouth after a long winter.

bil-hana' wa ash-shifa'!

PREP TIME: about 30 minutes, plus 24 hours soaking time for chickpeas

COOKING TIME: about 45-50 minutes

MAKES: about five 1 cup servings

INGREDIENTS:

• 1 cup dried chickpeas, soaked overnight
• 1 strip kombu
• 1 large head cauliflower
• 2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
• 1 medium onion, cut into 1/4" dice (about 1 cup)
• 4 large cloves garlic, minced finely (about 2 tablespoons)
• 1/2 cup oil-packed olives, drained and minced finely
• 1 tablespoon capers, rinsed under cool water and minced finely
• 4 ounces fresh kumquats, cut into 1/4" rounds horizontally
• 1 cup dry white wine
• 1 dried bay leaf
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 2 teaspoons ground cumin
• pinch red pepper flakes
• one 28 ounce can crushed fire roasted tomatoes (I highly recommend Muir Glen brand)
• sea salt and freshly cracked pepper, to taste
• chiffonaded fresh parsley, for garnish

DIRECTIONS:

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit. Drain soaked chickpeas and rinse thoroughly with cool water.
2. In a large, heavy-bottomed stock pot, combine drained chickpeas, kombu strip and enough water to cover beans completely. Bring pot to a boil and immediately reduce heat to a simmer. Simmer until beans are tender, about 45-55 minutes.
3. Meanwhile, remove leaves and slice off thick stem of cauliflower. With the stem side down, cut the cauliflower into 1/2" thick "steaks". Loose pieces and whole florets will flake off-- don't fret, just set those aside and keep your slices at an even thickness.
4. Heat up 1 tablespoon olive oil in a heavy-bottom skillet until surface begins to shimmer. Working in batches, sear both sides of each cauliflower steak until they are a nice deep brown color. Place seared steaks on a sheet tray. When all steaks have been seared on both sides, sprinkle with salt & pepper and place sheet tray in oven. Roast until just tender, about 10-15 minutes. Remove from oven and set aside.
5. While the cauliflower steaks are roasting, wipe out skillet and heat up remaining tablespoon olive oil until surface begins to shimmer. Add onion and saute until soft and slightly browned. While onion is being sauteed, finely chop loose pieces of cauliflower until a minced texture is achieved. Add minced cauliflower, garlic, olives and capers to browned onions and saute 1 minute more, stirring frequently.
6. Add 1 cup white wine, dried bay leaf, cinnamon, cumin and red pepper flakes to onion mixture and stir to combine. Turn up the burner until mixture begins to simmer rapidly. Allow to simmer until most of the wine is reduced, stirring frequently. Be careful not to over-reduce-- a sticky mess will result!
7. When most of the white wine liquid is gone, reduce heat and add can of fire-roasted tomatoes and sliced kumquats. Bring mixture to a gentle simmer and, stirring frequently, simmer for 5-10 minutes or until sauce thickens a bit. Remove and discard bay leaf.
8. When chickpeas are tender, remove from heat and drain, discarding kombu strip. Stir cooked chickpeas into tomato sauce. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
9. To serve, place roasted cauliflower steaks on the bottom of a plate and top with tomato sauce. Garnish with chiffonaded fresh parsley. Enjoy citrus season and the end of your winter!

Wild Rice Horchata

It's Burwell General Store recipe swap time again, carrot nibblers! Seems like this month has just flown by, right? I am really digging these swaps-- I have made so many wonderful new blogging friends and the recipes chosen for us to adapt have proven to be so inspiring and motivating. And yet as the deadline approached for this particular post, there I was, staring at another vintage recipe Christianna had pulled from a dusty cookbook, wondering what the hell to make of it.
You see, I have another food confession to make to you, dear readers: I don't care for dressing. Or stuffing, or whatever your family called the side dish crammed inside your traditional Thanksgiving turkey. Whether it be bread or rice based, dressing never really did it for me, even in my meat-eating days.

So when the recipe for Wild Rice Dressing popped up on this month's recipe exchange, I stifled a groan. Ugh, stuffing.

Determined not to make stuffing, this month I tinkered around with a few wild rice dishes: an Asian-inspired salad, like this one from the lovely Sprouted Kitchen. A vegan Cream-of-Mushroom soup with wild rice. A side dish with carrots and oranges, loosely based on the one we made for our final dinner in culinary school. And all of these dishes were... good. Okay. Edible, even. But not even close to what I'd call inspired. I was officially having a Wild Rice Crisis.

But then, weirdly enough, the weather intervened with my Wild Rice Crisis. We had an incredible warm spell-- at the end of January, in Philadelphia. Last week the temperatures flirted with seventy degrees, fooling snowdrops into blooming prematurely and me into wearing a skirt without my thermal tights. Bare legs in January, how shocking! How wonderful! How confusing!

I'm lucky enough to live in the Italian Market section of Philadelphia, which is ripe for a name change as it is home to a huge population of Mexican (not to mention Korean and Chinese and Vietnamese and other Asian/Latin American) people and shops. In the heat of the summer it wouldn't be unusual at all for me to grab a Vietnamese banh mi sandwich for lunch from one shop and a glass of Mexican horchata from the shop a few doors down to wash it down.

So during our recent weird heat wave it was horchata, that cool milky rice drink that I found myself craving. Traditionally made from soaked rice or other grains, seasoned with cinnamon and lightly sweetened, this frothy drink is just the thing to quench your thirst on a hot January day.

And just like that, my Wild Rice Crisis was resolved. Hey, if various cultures use chufa (Spain), sesame seeds (Puerto Rico) and morro seeds (El Salvador) to make their horchata, why couldn't I use wild rice? So I did. And it was gooooooood. And I hope you'll make it too.

Maybe you'll wait until your weather is warm. That's good, I can't say that I personally would enjoy horchata in the dead of a (normal) winter. But the next time a heat wave hits your area and you find yourself craving that magical combination of cool and creamy and refreshing and light, I hope you'll think of horchata and reach for that bag of wild rice that has been lurking in the back of your cabinet.

Bain taitneamh as do bheil!

PREP TIME: about 15 minutes, plus 24 hours soaking time

COOKING TIME: about 10 minutes

MAKES: about 5 cups

INGREDIENTS:

• 1 cup white basmati rice
• 1 cup wild rice
• 1 whole vanilla bean
• 6 cups water
• 1 cinnamon stick
• 2 cups unsweetened almond milk
• 1/4-1/2 cup agave nectar, to taste
• ground cinnamon, for garnish

DIRECTIONS:

1. In a stand blender, combine basmati and wild rice. Pulse until a fine powder is achieved. If you can't get your rice ground finely, don't worry too much, just pulse until rice is broken up as much as possible. Place ground rice in a large heat-proofed bowl and set aside.


2. Split vanilla bean in half lengthwise and with the flat of your knife, scrape out the seeds. In a heavy-bottomed saucepan, combine 6 cups water, vanilla seeds & pod and cinnamon stick. Bring mixture to a boil.
3. Remove from heat and pour boiling water into ground rice bowl. Stir to combine ground rice, water and aromatics. Place a ceramic plate over the bowl to discourage curious pets and dust. Allow mixture to sit out at room temperature for 24 hours.

4. After 24 hours, you'll have a sludge-y gray mixture like the picture above, with almost all of the liquid absorbed into the rice. Don't despair, this gray sludge is going to taste delicious soon!
5. Working in batches, scoop spoonfuls of the soaked rice into a piece of damp fine-meshed cheesecloth. Over a large bowl, squeeze out all of the liquid you can from the ground rice. Your yield won't be super-high-- I was only able to squeeze out about 2 cups of "rice juice". Discard rice solids and aromatics, rinse cheesecloth and repeat until all soaked rice has been thoroughly juiced. This is a rather tedious process, but don't give up-- as soon as you're done, the rest of the horchata comes together in a snap.
6. After all of the rice mixture has passed through the cheesecloth, add 2 cups almond milk and stir to combine. Add agave nectar, 1/4 cup at a time, until desired sweetness is reached.
7. Serve over ice with a sprinkle of ground cinnamon as a garnish.

Hey, why don't you:

Apple-Ginger Bread Pudding with Whiskey Sauce

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I turned 33 this week, veggie fanatics. It was a great birthday. My co-workers treated me to dinner and a delicious house-made Rauch Bier at Triumph Brewery, my gal got me this very silly present, my friends bought me beers and picklebacks at Sugar Mom's and my boss bought me a bottle of very fine whiskey.

Birthdays are my favorite holiday. Not just my own (although my day was truly the bee's knees this year), but the idea of lavishing attention and presents and food on someone you care about is just so appealing.
And cake! What would a birthday be without a birthday cake, right?

Well, I have a confession for you, herbivores. Are you ready? It's just the tiniest bit shameful. Okay, here goes:

...I don't really care for cake.

It's true. There are certain exceptions, of course: a moist carrot cake with cream cheese frosting, a traditional Jewish apple cake, angel food cake that's slightly stale... I can really get behind all of those cakes. But the traditional vanilla or chocolate cake with buttercream frosting? Meh. As my mother would say, "it's just not worth the calories".
And speaking of my mother, when I was a little girl, we had a very special birthday tradition. Raised in a strictly no-high-sugar-breakfast-cereal kind of family, she relaxed her rules every year on my birthday. She would toast me up a big slice of whole wheat bread, slather it with butter (my love of butter is completely genetic) and dust it with cinnamon and sugar. Heavenly.

So this year I decided to honor this tradition and bake myself a "birthday cake" that reminded me of my favorite birthday breakfasts. Now that I'm firmly in my 30's, I topped this bread pudding with a decadent whiskey sauce created by the Handlebars Food & Saloon in Silverton, CO for their own bread pudding. I know my mom will approve.

So here's to birthdays, to celebrating the people in our lives, and to taking the time one day a year to reflect upon getting older and (hopefully!) wiser.

Bain taitneamh as do bheil!

PREP TIME: about 30 minutes of active time, up to 24 hours inactive prep

COOK TIME: about 30 minutes

MAKES: about 8 one cup servings

INGREDIENTS:

for the pudding:

• one 11 ounce whole wheat French baguette
• 6 large eggs, beaten
• 4 cups half & half
• 1 1/2 cups brown sugar
• 1 handful candied ginger, finely minced (about 1/4 cup)
• 1 tablespoon cinnamon
• 3 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 3 medium Granny Smith apples, peeled and cut into 1/4" dice (about 4 cups)
• 2 tablespoons maple syrup

for the whiskey sauce:

• 1/2 cup brown sugar
• 1/4 pound salted butter
• 1 large egg, beaten
• 2 tablespoons whiskey (I used good old Jim Beam, but use whichever whiskey/bourbon/scotch/rye you love best)

DIRECTIONS:

1. When purchasing your bread, try and see if you can get a day-old baguette. If not, cut the fresh baguette in very angled slices and leave out overnight, or until stale.
2. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit. In a large bowl, combine beaten eggs, half & half, brown sugar, candied ginger and cinnamon. Slice stale bread slices into 1" squares and arrange in the bottom of a well-buttered 9" by 13" casserole dish.
3. Pour half & half mixture over the bread squares and press down to ensure all squares are evenly soaked. Set aside to allow the bread to absorb the liquid.
4. Meanwhile, heat up 3 tablespoons butter in a heavy-bottomed skillet. Stirring constantly, brown the butter. (Great tutorial on browning butter here.) Add apple pieces and saute until apples are softened and slightly browned. Add maple syrup and, stirring constantly, coat the apples until the syrup reduces a bit and apples are sticky and caramelized. Immediately remove from heat.
5. Spoon the caramelized apples over the soaked bread, stirring slightly to thoroughly incorporate.
6. Bake pudding for 30 minutes, or until the center is set and not jiggly. Remove from oven and allow to cool.
7. While pudding is in the oven, make the whiskey sauce: place a saucepan filled halfway with water on the stove. Bring to a boil, and immediately reduce heat to a simmer. Set a large metal bowl on top of the simmering water. (Use a pot holder or a towel to touch the bowl after it goes over the water-- it will get very hot very quickly!) In the metal bowl, whisk together 1/4 pound salted butter and brown sugar until butter is melted and sugar is incorporated. Add egg and whiskey and continue to whisk until sauce thickens.
8. To assemble, use a round pastry cutter to portion cooled bread pudding. Spoon whiskey sauce over the top. And if you're anything like me, you'll pour yourself some bourbon over rocks to toast another birthday!

Bleu Cheese Grits with Kale & Sweet Potatoes

I'm a savory breakfast kind of gal. I've never really been into pancakes or french toast or waffles (with my mother's waffles being a huge exception, of course...) or anything that's overly sweet & sticky in the morning. Sure, every now and then I get a craving for a big stack of pancakes smothered in maple syrup. But when eating out for breakfast, I tend to stick to the savory basics: eggs (sunny side up if you please), veggie sausage, hashbrowns and a big piece of toast to sop up all of that delicious mess.

And of course, grits. Oooooh, grits. Raised a Yankee, we didn't have grits on our breakfast table when I was growing up. But my Texan girlfriend loves them, and they have gradually become my favorite part of breakfast. And I do like them savory-- I know a lot of people like sugar or honey in their grits, but to me there's something just so satisfying about a big bowl of salty, corny goodness first thing in the morning.

Not to mention they are the perfect vehicle for any vegetable you have lying about-- a great way to sneak a little more nutrition into breakfast. And butter. And cheese.
Okay, so this isn't diet food. But it's comforting and delicious and a little decadent, even. Perfect for a lazy weekend breakfast, elegant enough to serve to guests.

I prefer the heartier taste of coarsely ground cornmeal for my grits, almost like a polenta. But if you like the milder hominy grits, rock on with your bad self. Savory grits have endless possibilities-- try different vegetables, different greens, different cheese... there is no wrong way to eat grits!

Bain taitneamh as do bheil!

PREP TIME: about 15 minutes

COOKING TIME: about 30 minutes

MAKES: 2 servings

INGREDIENTS:

for the topping:

• 1 medium shallot, thinly sliced (about 1/2 cup)
• 1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
• 1 small sweet potato, peeled & cut into 1/2" dice (about 1 cup)
• 3/4 cup vegetable stock
• 1 small carrot, peeled & finely grated (about 1/4 cup)
• 1 large clove garlic, thinly sliced (about 1 tablespoon)
• 2-3 large lacinato or dinosaur kale leaves, thick stems removed, finely chopped (1 cup, loosely packed)
• sea salt & freshly cracked pepper, to taste
• generous pinch red pepper flakes

for the grits:

• 1/2 cup grits (for a gluten-free dish, be sure to seek out grits that have been packed in a gluten-free facility, such as Bob's Red Mill brand)
• 2 cups water
• 1/2 cup finely shredded smoked bleu cheese
• sea salt & freshly cracked pepper, to taste
• 2 pats of butter, to top off

DIRECTIONS:

1. In a large, heavy-bottomed saucepan, heat up 1 tablespoon olive oil until the surface begins to shimmer. Add sliced shallot and saute until soft and slightly browned, stirring frequently to prevent burning. Add sweet potatoes and saute for 2 minutes more, until sweet potatoes are slightly browned.
2. Add vegetable stock and shredded carrots to shallots & sweet potatoes and increase heat until the stock begins to boil. Cover the saucepan and allow stock to boil for 2-3 minutes, until sweet potatoes just begin to soften. Remove cover and allow stock to boil rapidly, until liquid is evaporated and sweet potatoes are soft. Stir frequently to prevent sticking.
3. Add garlic and chopped kale and saute for 2 minutes more, until kale is bright green and slightly wilted. Season to taste with salt, pepper and red pepper flakes. Remove from heat and transfer vegetables to another bowl. Cover bowl and place on the stovetop to keep warm while you prepare the grits.
4. In the same saucepan, combine water and grits with a pinch of salt. Bring mixture to a boil and immediately reduce heat to a simmer. Simmer, stirring frequently, until most of the water is absorbed and grits are fluffy and porridge-like. Stir in grated smoked bleu cheese and stir to combine. Season with salt and pepper.
5. Divide grits between two bowls. Place a pat of butter on top of each bowl. Spread the vegetable mixture over the grits. Serve immediately with a big pot of coffee and prepare to start your day!

(photos in this post taken by the very talented Deborah Holloway, who, like a true Texas girl, gobbled up the pictured grits as soon as she put down the camera)

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Lentil Shepard's Pie with Goat Cheese Mashed Potatoes

Herbivores, do you ever play that game with yourself where you try to remember exactly what you were doing a year ago? You try to summon up the events of the day ("Well, it was a Wednesday, so at this time I was probably waiting for the bus...") and you try to remember how you were feeling and what lay ahead for your past self.

I've been doing that a lot lately for some reason, remembering my twice-weekly travels back and forth from Philadelphia to New York, the seemingly endless shuffle between work and school and back again, the world of culinary adventures opening up to me.

I am remembering learning how to properly cut an onion, how to use a wok, how to roll out a vegan pie crust, how to identify a myriad sea vegetables, how to put together Macrobiotic and Aryuvedic meals, how to make a beurre monte sauce (more on that later), how to make gluten-free pie crusts... the list goes on and on.

In short, after some time away from culinary school, the basic tenets are flooding back to me in a strange sense-memory way. I'm finding myself using the techniques I learned in an instinctual manner, which is, I suppose, the whole point of going to culinary school, graduating, and continuing to work in food. School is supposed to make these things second nature, supposed to make you produce quality food consistently, without much conscious thought.
And I still hear the voices of my instructors in my ear, even when I'm cooking alone. I hear Chef Barbara tsk-ing over my vegetable cuts ("Keep them uniform!"), I hear Chef Rich scolding me for salting my food only at the end ("Seasoning the food at the end of cooking is like putting on makeup after your date!") and I hear Chef Jay reminding me not to fussy with my salting ("Season from a great height!").

Back to the shepard's pie. January has been blowing icy blasts all over Philadelphia lately, so this seemed like just the thing to chase away winter's chill. And great minds seem to be thinking alike, as I'm seeing a ton of shepard's pies popping up all over the blogosphere. I fell in love with The Fig Tree's idea of using roasted garlic & goat cheese in the mashed potatoes, so I stocked up on lentils and taters and carrots and got cooking.

Alone in my kitchen, I carefully chopped all of my vegetables evenly, cooked my lentils just right and even got fancy with a piping bag for the mashed potato top. The whole time I was remembering and smiling to myself, marveling as my hands instinctually did what my brain had to painstakingly learn just one short year ago.

This isn't of course to say that you have to go to culinary school to make a shepard's pie. But parsnip munchers, the next time you're in the kitchen, use your cooking time as a meditation on all the things you've learned this past year, all of the tasks that at one time seemed so difficult and are now instinctual. Big or small, our experiences teach us how to be better people.

And that is something to be grateful for indeed.

Bain taitneamh as do bheil!

PREP TIME: about 30 minutes

COOKING TIME: about 1 1/2 hours

MAKES: about 8 one cup servings

INGREDIENTS:

for the base:

• 2 cups French green (Puy) lentils
• 1 cup red wine
• 2 cups water
• 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil, divided
• 2 medium onions, cut into 1/4" dice (about 2 cups)
• 2-3 medium carrots, cut into 1/4" quarter moons
• 3 tablespoons fresh thyme leaves, removed from stems and finely chopped
• 6 ounces crimini mushrooms, cut into 1/2" dice
• 3-4 leaves lacinato (dinosaur) kale, stems removed, chopped into bite-sized pieces
• sea salt and freshly cracked pepper, to taste

for the top:

• 3 pounds Yukon Gold or russet potatoes, peeled and cut into even 1" chunks
• 4 cups vegetable stock
• 4 cups water
• 1 head garlic
• 4 ounces herbed chevre or soft goat cheese, thinly sliced
• 1/4 cup buttermilk, plus more as needed
• sea salt and freshly cracked pepper, to taste

for the sauce:

• 2 cups red wine
• 1 teaspoon honey
• pinch of sea salt
• 2 teaspoons dried tarragon
• 1 tablespoon cold unsalted butter

DIRECTIONS:

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Cut the top of the head of garlic off and wrap the whole thing loosely in aluminum foil. Place in the oven and roast until fragrant and very soft, about 45 minutes. When garlic is tender, allow to cool slightly and squeeze out roasted cloves, discarding papery skins. Set aside.
2. Meanwhile, cook potatoes and lentils. Spread lentils out on a sheet pan or clean counter and sift through them, discarding any stones or stems. Rinse lentils in cold water. Place lentils, 1 cup red wine and 2 cups water in a large, heavy-bottomed stockpot. Bring mixture to a boil and immediately reduce heat to a simmer. Simmer until tender, about 30-40 minutes. When lentils are done, remove from heat, drain through a fine mesh and toss with a little olive oil. Set aside.
3. While lentils are simmering, place the chopped potatoes in another heavy-bottomed stockpot with 4 cups of vegetable stock and 4 cups of water. Bring mixture to a boil and immediately reduce heat to a simmer. Simmer until potatoes are extremely tender, almost falling apart. When potatoes are done, drain liquid and place potatoes back into stockpot with a loose lid to keep them warm & moist.
4. While the lentils and potatoes are bubbling on the stove and the garlic is roasting in the oven, heat up 1 tablespoon olive oil in a saute pan until the surface of the oil begins to shimmer. Add chopped onion and saute until soft and browned. Add carrot quarter moons and fresh thyme and saute for 5 minutes more, until carrots just begin to soften.
5. Remove onions & carrots from pan and set aside. Heat up another tablespoon of olive oil in saute pan. Add mushrooms and saute until mushrooms have lost their liquid and begin to brown, about 5 minutes. Add chopped kale and cooked onions & carrots to pan. Season with salt & pepper. Saute until kale turns bright green, about 2 minutes. Remove from heat, stir cooked lentils into vegetable mixture and set aside.
6. Prepare the mashed potato topping: pass cooked potatoes and roasted garlic through a potato ricer. (Alternately you can do this in a stand mixer or even with a hand-held potato masher for more rustic results, but a potato ricer will get you the fluffiest topping). Stir in goat cheese and buttermilk until a smooth consistency is reached. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
7. Prepare the sauce: in a small saute pan, combine 2 cups red wine, 1 teaspoon honey and 2 teaspoons dried tarragon. Bring mixture to a boil and reduce by almost half, stirring occasionally to prevent sticking. When mixture looks thick (but not too syrup-y: be careful not to over-reduce!), reduce heat and half-remove the pan from the burner. Place the cold butter in the pan and continually swirl the pan until butter is melted. When butter is melted, turn off burner. Congratulate yourself for successfully beurre monte-ing a sauce!
8. Grease a 9" by 13" casserole dish. Place lentil & vegetable mixture on the bottom and spread evenly through the dish. Pour red wine sauce over lentils and vegetables. Place mashed potatoes in a piping bag with a large star tip and make whatever design you like on the top of the pie. Or you can simply spread the potato mixture over the lentils with a spatula and use a fork to make a cross-hatch design.
9. Bake for 20-25 minutes, or until mixture is heated through. Place casserole under broiler for 5 minutes (definitely keep an eye on it, though-- those things can take your food from brown to burned fast) or until top is crisped and browned.
10. Serve with a glass of red wine and toast to the new and amazing things you'll learn this year.

And because this post has made me all nostalgic, I couldn't stop myself from posting this wonderful video about my culinary alma mater. It may seem cheesy, but that place truly did change my life and I am so eternally grateful for my experience there. Check it out:

Aztec Zabaglione

It's that time again, produce junkies. That wonderful once-a-month time when bloggers from all corners of the globe converge on a single recipe, chosen by Christianna of the wonderful Burwell General Store from an old cookbook entitled The Second Ford Treasury of Favorite Recipes from Famous Eating Places.

We are charged with making the recipe our own, with changing ingredients or methods to make a new version of an old classic. Last month some of my fellow swappers took wild flights of fancy with the original recipe, converting a rather basic chocolate chip cookie recipe into Christmas Meringues or Kokosbollar-Chocolate Truffles or even Peanut Butter Rice doggie treats! And of course many more people did beautiful and delicious-looking twists on the chocolate chip cookie. I feel truly honored to be a part of such a talented group! (For a full list of what everyone made, check out my contribution here, which links to everyone else's awesome recipes at the bottom of the post.)

This month's recipe was another classic: a zabaglione. I'm a huge pudding fan, and although I had wild flights of fancy when trying to re-imagine this dish, (a trifle! Souffles! French toast!) in the end, I couldn't resist making a pudding. With a twist, naturally...

I chose to make my zabaglione chocolate (and why wouldn't you?) and to give it a spicy kick. Chocolate was introduced to Europeans by the Aztecs in what is now Mexico. The Aztecs made a bitter drink with the cacao beans, flavoring it with chili powder and cinnamon. Cacao was a sacred food, used in ceremonies and featured heavily in their artwork. Chocolate is now ubiquitous worldwide, but I love the idea of keeping it special and important by honoring those ancient flavor combinations.

Oh, and did I mention that I decided to replace the sweet wine from the original zabaglione recipe with Kahula? Oh yeah. The coffee liqueur really takes this pudding to a completely indulgent, absolutely grown-up place. I say "grown up" because the liqueur doesn't get cooked off very much, so this isn't something I recommend for kids.

So top off this zabaglione with a cinnamon-infused mascarpone cheese and serve after a big company meal. It comes together in a snap-- you can whip it up while your guests help to clear the table. Everyone will appreciate the combination of a light dessert and an after-dinner cocktail all rolled up in to one perfect digestif.

Bain taitneamh as do bheil!

PREP TIME: 10 minutes

COOKING TIME: 10 minutes

MAKES: 4 servings

INGREDIENTS:

for the pudding:

• 6 egg yolks
• 2 tablespoons plus 2 teaspoons prepared hot cocoa mix (I used this one) OR make your own with 3 teaspoons unsweetened cocoa powder, 5 teaspoons sugar & a pinch of sea salt
• 1 teaspoon cinnamon
• 7 fluid ounces coffee-flavored liqueur (such as Kaluha)
• sprinkle of cayenne powder, to taste

for the top:

• 4 ounces mascarpone cheese
• 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
• pinch of sea salt

DIRECTIONS:

1. In a small bowl, mix together the mascarpone cheese, cinnamon & sea salt. Set aside.
2. In a large metal bowl, whisk together the egg yolks, hot cocoa mix, cinnamon, coffee liqueur and cayenne powder.
3. Bring a saucepan halfway full of water to a boil and immediately reduce to just a simmer. Place metal bowl over simmering water and whisk briskly (I used my electric hand mixer for this) until pudding comes together and quadruples in size. If you're whisking by hand, make sure to whisk as fast as you can to prevent scrambled egg pudding!
4. Refrigerate pudding for 10 minutes to set. Scoop into your prettiest bowls and top with a dollop of cinnamon-mascarpone.

And don't forget:

Soba Noodles with Peanut Sauce & Fried Tofu

It snowed last night in Philadelphia, herbivores. Not a big storm, just a light dusting. Just enough to crunch under my boots as I took the dog out for a late walk. Just enough to coat our city in a clean layer of soft whiteness, enough to muffle the air and leave the city smelling like snow.

It was the first snowfall of our weirdly warm winter. And even I, the avowed despiser of all things winter-y, fell hard under it's spell.

The snow was long gone this morning and won't be back anytime soon, with forecasts predicting weekend temperatures over 50 degrees.

But for a brief moment peaceful winter had subdued the hustle and bustle of city life, and I found myself loving the cold silence intensely.

So today I tried to replicate that peaceful feeling with food.

I made a spicy, rich and comforting bowl of soba noodles topped with crispy tofu adapted from this recent recipe on the gorgeous Sprouted Kitchen. And boy oh boy, am I glad I did.

This is cold weather food, snuggly eatin'. This is the food equivalent to your favorite pair of well-worn, perfectly comfortable flannel pajamas. This is curl-up-on-the-couch-with-the-dog-and-a-marathon-of-Breaking-Bad food.
Soba noodles can be tricky-- cooked to the al dente texture that most of us prefer, the inside of the noodle remains chewy and uncooked. Cooked too long, the noodles turn to mush. But just for you, mushroom nibblers, I will share the amazing secret to evenly cooking your soba noodles that I learned in culinary school, if you promise me you'll never use this information for evil.

So take your dog out for a walk, get your Netflix queue in order, dig out those fuzzy slippers-- you're in for a long winter night of snuggling.

kor hai ja-rern aa-haan!

PREP TIME: about 15 minutes

COOKING TIME: about 45 minutes

MAKES: 8 one cup servings

INGREDIENTS:

for the fried tofu:

• one 14 ounce package extra-firm tofu
• coconut oil, for frying
• sea salt

for the sauce:

• 2 bulbs fresh lemongrass, roughly sliced (about 1/4 cup. Handy guide to chopping lemongrass here)
• 1 small red onion, roughly chopped (about 1/3 cup)
• 1 thumb-sized piece ginger, peeled and roughly chopped (about 1/4 cup)
• 1 large clove garlic, roughly smashed (about 2 tablespoons)
• 2 tablespoons hot chili oil
• 1 teaspoon coconut oil
• one 14 ounce can full-fat coconut milk
• 1/4 cup chunky natural peanut butter
• 3 tablespoons shoyu (substitute soy sauce if you can't find shoyu)
• 1/2 cup water

putting it all together:

• one 8 ounce package soba noodles
• 1 tablespoon toasted sesame oil
• 1 small red cabbage, finely sliced (about 3 cups)
• 2 tablespoons rice vinegar, or more to taste
• extra shoyu and hot chili oil, to taste
• chopped peanuts, sliced green onions and fresh cilantro, for garnish

DIRECTIONS:

1. Remove tofu from packaging and drain water completely. Wrap tofu in paper towels and place on a sheet tray. Place another sheet tray on top of tofu and weigh down with your heaviest pot or a jug full of liquid. (I used three large squash I have yet to cook-- they do say that necessity is the mother of invention!) Allow tofu to sit and release water in this fashion for at least a half hour.
2. While tofu is draining, chop veggies and make the soba noodles. Fill a large stock pot halfway with cool water. Fill another jug full of cold water and set aside. Bring water in stock pot to a boil and toss in the soba noodles. Allow water to come to a boil again and immediately pour some cold water from your handy jug to stop the boiling. Repeat this process 3-4 times: allow the water in the pot to come to a boil, then shock with cold water. Use a pair of tongs to fish out one noodle after each shocking and test it for texture. When the noodles are al dente, drain and immediately toss with 1 tablespoon toasted sesame oil. Set aside.
3. Slice pressed & drained tofu into even 1/2" cubes. In a heavy-bottomed skillet with high sides, heat up enough coconut oil to reach halfway up the sides of each tofu square. Oil is ready when a small amount of flour flicked into it's surface immediately sizzles. Working in batches, pan fry the tofu cubes, turning to ensure even crispy brownness on all sides. Watch your heat-- oil should never smoke, and if it begins to splatter, immediately lower your flame.
4. Place fried tofu on a paper towel-lined plate to absorb excess oil. Sprinkle with a little sea salt and set aside.
5. Prepare the sauce: place chopped lemongrass, red onion, ginger, garlic and 2 tablespoons hot chili oil in a food processer. Pulse until a smooth paste is formed, occasionally scraping down the sides.
6. Heat up 1 teaspoon coconut oil in a large skillet with high sides. Add lemongrass paste and saute, stirring frequently, until the mixture is fragrant.
7. Add coconut milk, peanut butter, shoyu and 1/2 cup water to the skillet and stir to combine. Simmer for 10 minutes, stirring frequently.
8. Add cooked soba noodles and sliced cabbage to the skillet, stirring to combine. Simmer for 5 minutes, or until cabbage is just wilted.
9. Turn off heat and stir in rice vinegar. Taste and adjust seasonings: needs salt? Add another splash of shoyu. Like things super-spicy? More hot chili oil. Too rich for you? Try more rice vinegar to cut the fatty coconut milk.
10. Twirl soba noodles on a plate and top with a few pieces of fried tofu. Garnish with chopped peanuts, sliced green onions and roughly chopped fresh cilantro.

New Year's Persimmon-Champagne Cocktail

It's the last day of the year, mon petit chou. Time to raise a glass to 2011. Time to reflect on the year's accomplishments and failures, it's fond memories and it's cringe-worthy moments. Time to be grateful for new friends met and old friends kept dear. Time to remember people we lost and memories we made.

I love the ritual of the toast, especially this time of year. It's such a fitting way to say goodbye to another year passed. And it's simply bad form (especially in my family) to toast with an empty glass. So dust off those champagne flutes in the back of your cabinet and make this simple-yet-oh-so-elegant-looking cocktail for someone you love tonight.
Persimmons are in season this time of year, and make a lovely addition to a traditional champagne cocktail. In Japan, persimmons symbolize transformation. It's a New Year's tradition in Hawaii to serve dried persimmons to ensure health and success in the coming year. I can't think of a better way to usher in 2012.

Look for Fuyu persimmons, which are the more short & squat variety of the fruit. They resemble a squashed tomato and are sweet even when firm. The acorn-shaped Hachiya persimmon is extremely bitter until it is completely soft. For a handy guide on all things persimmon, click here.

So have a blast tonight. Be safe. Celebrate a new year, full of endless possibilities, just being born. And if you find yourself searching for that perfect toast this evening, may I humbly recommend my personal favorite?

"Here's to you, as good as you are,

And here's to me, as bad as I am;

But as good as you are, and as bad as I am,

I am as good as you are, as bad as I am."

Slainte!

PREP TIME: about 10 minutes

COOKING TIME: 10 minutes

MAKES: 4-5 cocktails

INGREDIENTS:

• 1 ripe Fuyu persimmon
• 1 cup organic cane sugar
• 1/2 cup water
• 1-2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
• 1 bottle of your favorite Brut champagne or prosecco

DIRECTIONS:

1. Peel and core persimmon. Roughly chop. Place chopped persimmon in food processor and pulse until a rough puree is achieved.
2. In a heavy-bottomed sauce pan place sugar, water and persimmon puree. Bring mixture to a boil and immediately reduce heat to a simmer. Simmer, uncovered, stirring occasionally, for 10 minutes.
3. Remove persimmon syrup from stove and strain through a fine mesh. Stir in lemon juice one tablespoon at a time until desired tartness is reached.
4. Fill glass three-quarters full of champagne. Top off with persimmon syrup. Garnish with a lemon slice. Toast to a happy and healthy 2012!

Winter Vegetable & Bean Stew

2011 is rapidly winding down, herbivores. Was it a good year for you? I do hope so.

For me, this year was full of stress and triumph, of accomplishment and determination. A good year, albeit one of the hardest I've worked through in a long time. And I say "worked through" as opposed to "lived through" because I feel I spent most of my year with my nose determinedly plugged to the grindstone, eschewing friends and family alike for the sake of Reaching Goals.

I don't often do New Year's Resolutions-- they're so arbitrary and often superficial. But this year I have resolved to spend more time with people I love. I've missed them all so much.
And naturally I resolve to eat better food, but I pretty much make that resolution every month... every week... every hour. While I'm not a big believer in "dieting" in the traditional sense, I am trying very hard to make good food decisions. For me that means no processed foods and limited sugar.

I've failed miserably in avoiding both this past month. Mostly the sugar. I have a ravenous sweet tooth, and with all of the holiday treats around and oh, yeah, the fact that I work as a pastry chef in an ice cream and candy shop I have fallen off the sugar wagon HARD this month.
So what better way to get back on track than with a hearty clean stew, packed with winter veggies and protein-rich beans? While it seems to be a bit of a new tradition on this blog to post recipes for bean soups this time of year, I decided to make this particular version chunky and more stew-y than previous recipes. It fills your belly but doesn't make you feel too heavy, and the sweetness of the beans and carrots help to curb those late-night candy binges. Adding a winter ale to the stew's broth gives it body and an unexpectedly refined flavor, so be sure to pick out a good beer.

I used gorgeous heirloom anasazi beans in this stew because I love their sweet taste and creamy texture. But feel free to substitute cannellini or navy or any other mild white bean that suits your fancy.

So let us raise a bowl of stew to 2012-- may it be filled with good food, good friends and the warmth of family love.

Bain taitneamh as do bheil!

PREP TIME: about 30 minutes (plus soaking time for beans)

COOKING TIME: about 45 minutes

MAKES: about eight 2 cup servings

INGREDIENTS:

• 1 cup dried anasazi beans, soaked overnight
• 1 strip kombu
• 2 large leeks, cleaned thoroughly and cut into half moons (should yield about 2 cups. Instructional video for cleaning and cutting leeks here)
• 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
• 5 large cloves garlic, roughly chopped (about 2 tablespoons)
• 10 cups vegetable stock
• 12 ounces winter ale (I used Peak Organic Brewery Winter Session Ale, a delicious Christmas present from mom!)
• 4-5 medium carrots, cut into even roll cuts (should yield about 2 cups. Roll cut demonstration video here.)
• 2 medium potatoes, skin on, cleaned thoroughly and cut into 1/2" dice. (about 2 cups)
• 2 tablespoons dried tarragon
• 4 oil-packed sundried tomatoes, thinly sliced
• 3-4 kale leaves, thick stems removed, chopped into bite-sized pieces
• sea salt and freshly cracked pepper, to taste
• 2-3 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice, to taste

DIRECTIONS:

1. Drain anasazi beans and discard soaking liquid. Rinse thoroughly. Place in a medium heavy-bottomed stockpot and cover with fresh water. Add kombu strip and a sprinkle of sea salt. Bring water to a boil and immediately reduce to a simmer. Simmer until beans are tender, about 35-45 minutes. (Cooking times will differ if you substitute beans) When beans are tender, remove from heat and set aside.
2. While beans are cooking, chop your vegetables.
3. Heat up 2 tablespoons olive oil in a heavy-bottomed stock pot until the surface begins to shimmer. Add chopped leeks and saute until leeks are soft and slightly browned. Add garlic and saute for one minute more, taking care not to let garlic brown.
4. Add vegetable stock, beer, carrots, potatoes, dried tarragon and tomatoes to the stock pot and stir to thoroughly combine. Bring mixture up to a boil, cover pot and immediately reduce heat to a simmer.
5. Simmer soup for 10-15 minutes, or until carrots and potatoes are just tender and easily pierced with a fork.
6. Add kale leaves and cooked beans and simmer for 5 minutes more, until kale turns bright green and begins to soften a bit. Turn stove off.
7. Season with sea salt & freshly cracked black pepper. Add lemon juice, one tablespoon at a time, until the stew achieves a lovely brightness.
8. Serve with a slice of buttered crusty bread and welcome 2012!

Smoky Portobello Po' Boys

I work right down the street from a new-ish Southern/Cajun restaurant, The Khyber Pass Pub. Like many others, I mourned the passing of the original joint, which shares the name of the new place but not much else. The old Khyber was dark and dirty, but it was also a great place to get a cheap beer and see a band you couldn't see anywhere else. Sure, the bathroom didn't have a door and hadn't been cleaned since 1995. But the Khyber was punk rock and gritty, a proud middle finger in a neighborhood that had become full of Jersey Shore-wannabe douchebags.

But I can't be mad that it was taken over by Dave Frank and Stephen Simons, of Royal Tavern and Cantina Los Caballitos fame. The food is so good, and although the menu is barbecue heavy, there are a ton of vegetarian and vegan options as well! And best of all, once in a while they do a Vegan Cocktail Night, where they offer specials on vegan beer and cocktails and a special menu of vegan appetizers, entrees and desserts. This past Tuesday, my friend Lauren and I bellied up to the bar and stuffed our faces with delectable food and drink.

(Full disclosure: Dave is a friend of a friend and I know him socially. But I paid for my food this visit, and as always, my opinions are my own)

Although after much deliberation I ordered the Okra & Eggplant Etouffee, (etouffees are so rarely vegetarian that I couldn't resist) my eyes kept wandering back to another special that evening: a Smoked Portobello Po' Boy.

Now I have a confession for you, dear readers. I have a po' boy problem. And the Khyber just so happens to offer a vegan fried "chicken" po' boy on it's regular menu and as I just so happen to work about a block away, I just so happen to order this sandwich at least once a week for lunch.

My name is Sara and I am addicted to po' boys.

Whew. Feels good to get that off my chest. Anyway, I don't know what it is about these sandwiches... scratch that, I know just what it is. The perfectly crusty bread, the creamy/spicy remoulade, the tangy pickles... it's all of these things combined with some sort of breaded & fried protein that make the perfect sandwich. And the Khyber's version is really damn tasty, thanks in large part to the fact that they ship their rolls in from the famous Leidenheimer Baking Company of New Orleans.

So although I didn't order the po' boy that evening, the idea for a smoky-mushroomy po' boy has been stuck in my craw ever since. I just had to give them a whirl at home.
These sandwiches come together in a snap and are supremely filling. The meaty portobellos get their smoky flavor from their cornmeal crust, and the creamy remoulade is cut nicely by the snappy pickles. Traditionally po' boys are garnished with shredded iceberg lettuce, but I virtuously used lettuce from our CSA. Less virtuously I sprung for very out-of-season supermarket tomatoes, but I simply couldn't imagine a po-boy without them.

I adapted my remoulade from this recipe by Hank Shaw. The pickles are up to you-- I used pickled green tomatoes I got at the food swap, but bread and butter or dills would work nicely, according to your preference. If you're not lucky enough to live in New Orleans, I suggest you buy a French-style (whole wheat, if possible) baguette from the finest bakery in your town. The bread does, after all, really make the sandwich.
If you are lucky enough to live in Philadelphia, please do yourself a favor and check out the eatin' and drinkin' at the Khyber Pass Pub.

Bon Appetite!

PREP TIME: about 20 minutes

COOKING TIME: about 15 minutes

MAKES: 2 large po' boys

INGREDIENTS:

for the remoulade:

• 1/2 cup mayonnaise (make your own with this recipe!)
• 2 tablespoons Creole mustard (substitute stone-ground mustard if you can't find it)
• 1/2 teaspoon pickle juice
• 1/2 teaspoon hot sauce (I used good ol' Tabasco)
• 1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
• 2 teaspoons Cajun seasoning (I used Dinosaur Barbecue's Cajun Foreplay, but feel free to use your favorite or make your own)

for the smoky portobellos:

• 2 portobello mushroom caps, brushed clean, stems removed
• 1 egg
• 1 tablespoon buttermilk
• coconut or peanut oil, for frying
• 1/2 cup coarsely ground cornmeal
• 1/4 cup whole wheat flour
• 2 tablespoons smoked paprika
• 1 teaspoon sea salt, plus more for sprinkling

to put it all together:

• 2 whole wheat baguettes, split lengthwise
• a handful finely chopped lettuce
• 2 plum tomatoes, sliced thickly
• sliced pickles

DIRECTIONS:

1. Put together the remoulade: in a medium bowl, stir mayo, mustard, pickle juice, hot sauce, garlic powder and Cajun seasoning until well incorporated. Set aside. (Extra remoulade can be kept in the fridge for up to 1 month)
2. Cut portobello caps into long slices, about 1/2" thick. In a shallow bowl, beat together egg and buttermilk. In another shallow bowl, combine cornmeal, whole wheat flour, smoked paprika and 1 teaspoon sea salt.
3. In a large, heavy-bottomed frying pan with steep sides, heat up enough oil to come about 1/4" from the bottom of the pan. Heat oil until a small amount of flour sizzles right away when dropped into pan, taking care not to let oil smoke.
4. Dredge the portobello mushrooms: first dunk slices in egg mixture and then in cornmeal mixture, taking care to coat all sides of mushroom with cornmeal mix. Shake off excess and fry a few at a time, flipping slices over so they are evenly golden brown on both sides.
5. Place fried mushroom slices on a paper-towel lined plate to drain excess oil. Sprinkle lightly with more salt.
6. When all mushroom slices have been fried, assemble sandwiches: spread remoulade thickly over both sides of cut bread. Lay down a bed of lettuce, top with tomatoes, fried mushrooms and pickles. Place sandwich halves together and press down lightly to compact ingredients.
7. Serve with cold Cajun beer, potato chips and lots of napkins-- this is a messy, delicious po'boy!