by | May 20, 2013 · 10:22 pm

Do do this ragout that we do so well.

Spring vegetable ragout with gnocchi

We’re not asking you join a great crusade to stamp out decency in the West. (After all, some would say there’s nothing left to do.)  We’re simply asking you to start celebrating your fresh green vegetables with this simple, light “stew.”

A while back, Michelle was hypnotized by some Whole Foods fava beans (a rarity in these parts), and found a recipe in Alice Waters’ Chez Panisse Vegetables for Fava Bean Ragout. Alice indicated it was “great with Potato Gnocchi,” which by happy coincidence Steve has finally figured out how to make. Michelle, spurred by some sprouting potatoes, urged Steve generate some gnocchi while she prepared the favas, garlic, herbs, lemon and olive oil. Steve’s soft, pillowy gnocchi (reportedly the envy of one Chef Bill) did pair quite well with the lovely light broth full of just-tender vegetables. Perhaps because we drastically cut back on the amount of olive oil called for in the original recipe, the vegetable flavors really step forward in version after version of this flexible dish, which most recently in Gourmandistan featured baby artichokes, peas, asparagus, green garlic and thyme.

Spring vegetable ragout

We think this is a wonderful, reasonably hassle-free way to feature the fresh flavors of spring vegetables. Do yourself a favor and go to your local market. You’ll find fresh peas, favas or some other delight. Take them home. Make this sauce. You’ll probably start singing this before you’re finished.

SPRING VEGETABLE RAGOUT

(Inspired by Alice Waters’ Chez Panisse Vegetables, this is less a recipe than a loose guideline. Explore and enjoy!)

Olive oil
Baby artichokes, cleaned, sliced in half and held in a bowl of lemon water
Sliced garlic or green garlic
Leaves from several sprigs of thyme
Water or stock
Salt and pepper
Spears and nice parts of asparagus stems, cut in approximately 2″ slices
Peas or shelled fava beans
Lemon juice
Parmesan cheese shavings
 

Generously cover the bottom of a skillet or sauté pan with olive oil. When oil has heated, add drained artichokes, garlic and thyme and enough water or stock to barely cover. Season with salt and pepper. Bring to a simmer, cover and cook for about 8 minutes. Add asparagus spears and peas or fava beans and simmer, covered, for about 5 minutes more. Pour lemon juice over and adjust seasoning if needed.

Serve over browned gnocchi with shavings of Parmesan cheese.

 
 

26 Comments

Filed under Cooking, Food, Recipes, Vegetarian

Tagged as , , , ,

by | May 16, 2013 · 9:42 pm

Garbure ≠ garbage + ordure; or you are what you etymologize

Garbure

The next time you’re eating “brunch” with a “spork,” you should stop for a moment and thank Lewis Carroll. (Perhaps you should then explore the idea of no longer brunching, especially if you frequent places providing sporks as utensils.) Carroll, one of Steve’s personal literary lions, introduced the idea of such “portmanteau words” in Through the Looking Glass, his sequel to Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.

Alice

Portmanteaus are everywhere these days, from “Brangelina” to “breathalyzer” to “bromance.” (While we’re not particularly conversant with tabloids, we’re fairly sure that particular word string has ever appeared before now. That’s a copyright notice, Daily Mail.) Steve, who enjoys catchy and novel words, is particularly fond of portmanteaus—a trait that tripped him up as he searched for more of an idea of where the word “garbure” came from.

Steve’s confusion started in our own cookbooks. According to Paula Wolfort, the stew of cabbage, beans and confit was named by Curnonsky (“the so-called Prince of Gastronomes”) as one of the four great regional dishes of France (the others being choucroute, bouillabaisse and cassoulet). However, Wolfert goes on in The Cooking of Southwest France to admit that, while she sees the dish as “the very symbol of Béarnais cookery,” it is “eaten widely in Gascony, the Landes and the Pays Basque, too.” In Bistro Cooking, Patricia Wells insinuates that the Basques are the the genuine garburistes, but mostly focuses on her feeling that “garbure is such a heavy word, that it conjures up the idea of loathsome, fatty fare.” On the Internet, the origin of the word is unclear, with Wikipedia (which is infallible!) asserting it derives from the use of the term garb to describe sheaves of grain while others say it stems from a word for bundle of herbs or stew. ”Stew” seems a quite likely candidate, as garbure is yet another mix of slow-cooked stuff that gets better the longer you let it sit around. The “sheaves” idea gains credibility from a French tradition calling for using a fork to “pitch” cabbage, beans and other solids into your (to the French, barnlike) mouth, saving the broth to mix with the last of your red wine for a final slurp.

Garbure

Whichever origin story you choose, we like the taste of the version we’ve blended together from several sources. Our garbure is good because it has surprising layers of flavor, from rich confit to bland beans and continuing on to salty, thick-cut prosciutto. Yours, with your own twists, could be equally as good, and your guess as to the origin of “garbure” has to be better than Steve’s. He’s still chasing the idea that the concept of stew can be found by combing the root for garbage (“giblets of a fowl, waste parts of an animal”) and a Latin suffix denoting an act or result. As Charles Dodgson might say, Steve really needs to chillax about this stuff.

Garbure (1)

GARBURE (Duck, Bean and Cabbage Stew)

(approximately 6 servings)

1-1/2 c. dried white beans
1 TB duck fat or neutral oil
1 onion, chopped
3 oz. prosciutto or other air-cured ham, diced
Whites of 3 or 4 leeks or green garlic, cut into thin rounds
8-10 garlic cloves, chopped
2 quarts duck or chicken or pork stock
Bouquet garni of parsley, bay leaves and thyme sprigs
4 carrots, peeled and cut into rounds
2 ribs celery, cut into half moon shapes
Salt
1 lb. potatoes and/or turnips, peeled and cubed
1/2 of a cabbage, coarsely chopped
2 duck confit legs, crisped in a skillet
Piment d’Espalette or smoked paprika, to taste
Pepper
 

Rinse beans and place in a saucepan. Add water to cover. Bring to a boil over high heat. Remove pan from heat, cover and let sit for about half an hour.  Drain beans and discard cooking liquid.

Sauté onions in duck fat in a soup pot. After a few minutes, add ham, leeks and garlic. Stir occasionally onion is softened but not browned.

Add stock, bouquet garni, beans, carrots and celery. Season lightly with salt. Simmer, covered, for about 45 minutes.

Add potatoes and/or turnips and cabbage. Cook until vegetables and beans are tender, about 30 minutes more.

While stew is cooking, remove meat from duck legs and shred. Add meat (along with the crisped skin) to stew in the final minutes of cooking.

Season to taste with additional salt, Piment d’Espalette or smoked paprika and pepper.

 

25 Comments

Filed under Cooking, Food, France, Recipes

Tagged as , , ,

by | May 11, 2013 · 9:50 pm

(Re)iterating Bertolli’s baby artichokes, olives, meatballs and sage

Meatballs & artichokes

We found this recipe in Chez Panisse Cooking while looking for a creative way to use some semi-impulse-bought baby artichokes. (They were from Castroville and on special at Whole Foods. Even die-hard locavores couldn’t resist.) We were initially attracted by the interesting mix of ingredients, a step up from our previous effort. Then we were intrigued by Paul Bertolli’s perplexing introduction. Telling us his mother “used marinated artichokes and a type of green Spanish olive ” he “can’t find anymore,” Bertolli goes on to say his version “doesn’t taste quite the same.” Further deepening the mystery, Bertolli merely specifies “green olives,” leaving us in the dark about what taste (oregano? metallic?) may have been missing from his version.

Left to our own devices, we chose garlic-marinated green olives. Because we like garlic. And because they were the only pre-pitted variety available at the grocery near Michelle’s office. We omitted the called-for cherry tomatoes because it’s not yet their season, but found fresh sage from some hardy overwintered stuff sprouting outside our kitchen door. The meatballs were easy, because we had some stashed in the freezer. Steve made eggy, thick noodles to go with the broth-braised chokes and meat. Without too much (OK, some) trouble, our definition of this Chez Panisse dish was done.

ArtichokesMeatballs & artichokes 1

Should we stumble on some more baby artichokes we may very well make this again. If it’s during tomato season, we’ll probably throw some cherries into the mix and see what happens. Perhaps it’s not exactly what Mama Bertolli wanted, but we think iteration is the sincerest form of flattery. (That is how the saying goes, isn’t it?)

Meatballs & artichokes (1)

MEATBALLS WITH ARTICHOKES, GREEN OLIVES AND SAGE

(adapted from Paul Bertolli’s Chez Panisse Cooking) (serves 4)

1 large onion, quartered and sliced in half moon shapes
Olive oil
Salt & pepper
6 cloves garlic, sliced thin
Juice of 2 lemons
1 to 1-1/2 lbs. baby artichokes
12 meatballs*
1/3 c. coarsely chopped green olives
1 TB coarsely chopped sage
1/2 c. chicken stock
 

Preheat oven to 350°.

Sauté onions in 1 TB olive oil until softened but not browned.  Season with salt and pepper. Add 3/4 of the garlic slices and toss. Transfer to a 1-1/2 quart baking dish.

Fill a medium bowl halfway with water. Add half of the lemon juice to the water. Cut off tops of artichokes. Remove outer leaves. Cut off stems. Pare away the green parts of the bases. Cut artichokes into quarters and place in the lemon water.

Lightly brown meatballs in olive oil in a skillet. Then, set them atop the onions and garlic in the baking dish.

Drain the artichokes. Toss them with remaining garlic slices, remaining lemon juice, sage, a splash of olive oil, salt and pepper.

Distribute the artichoke mixture around the meatballs. Pour stock over. Cover tightly with foil. Bake for 1 hour.

Serve with fresh egg noodles which have been tossed with butter and Parmesan cheese.

* Use whatever sort of meatballs you want. We make ours much like Conor Bofin’s recipe, with the addition of ground veal.

 
 

25 Comments

Filed under Cooking, Food, Recipes

Tagged as , , ,

by | May 4, 2013 · 10:34 pm

Beginning Baking (Again) With Bernard Clayton’s Rich White Bread

Toast Steve was starting to think he was so big. He started to think he was a better baker than most. It may have begun with his pâte brisée, or perhaps his pizza dough. Maybe it was when he made that batch of bialys or his “perfect” Parker House Rolls. Perhaps it was time he was taken down a peg. Perhaps it was time for Bernard Clayton’s New Complete Book of Breads.

Actually, Steve’s comedown didn’t start with Bernard Clayton—it started with starter. Steve had decided he should move on from instant dry yeast and begin his own “mother” made from yeast found floating naturally in Gourmandistan’s environment. Using a technique adapted from The Bread Baker’s Apprentice, he began fermenting organic rye flour and spring water. After a few days, he’d produced something that definitely seemed alive, and quite possibly stemmed from Gourmandistani yeast strains. Unfortunately, our native strains seem to tend towards laziness.

Steve first tried the starter in a sourdough rye from Clayton’s The Breads of France and How to Bake Them in Your Own Kitchen, producing a flat, funny-tasting loaf that quickly went to the chickens. Seeing as how his starter was still bubbling away, Steve decided it might be Clayton’s fault, but decided to give the man another chance by combining starter with instant yeast in “Turnipseed Sisters’ White Loaf.” Again, things did not go well. A promising first rise became a slow second, and the chickens ate well once more.

Chickens

Steve was about to give up on Mr. Clayton and declare him a fool, a fraud and certainly no friend of Gourmandistan. Michelle, remembering past successful recipes, suggested instead it was perhaps time for Steve to give up his starter and try something different. With the bitter taste of defeat (and the odd tang of starter) in his mouth, Steve agreed.

He went all the way back to the beginning of Clayton’s book, seeking a simple white loaf that would wipe away the taste of sourdough. Clayton’s “Rich White Bread” recipe certainly did the trick. Both lard and butter have turned out loaves of sturdy, tasty stuff we’ve enjoyed with egg salad and as toast. (Steve likes to call this bread “Mitt Romney.” Steve really needs to let that stuff go.)

Toast 2

As our weather is warming Steve is once more thinking about sourdough starter, and may give one of Clayton’s a try in short order. (He’s particularly interested in one made from grape must, but will wait until local grapes are found at our market.) While we wait for our new eukaryote friends to arrive, we will most likely try more instant yeast recipes from Mr. Clayton—and we possibly won’t feel quite so big about ourselves.

Toast

RICH WHITE BREAD (a/k/a “Mitt Romney”)

(adapted from Bernard Clayton’s New Complete Book of Breads) (makes 2 loaves)

1-1/2 c. hot water (120°-130° F)
1/2 c. nonfat dry milk
2 TB sugar
2 t. salt
2 packages dry yeast
4-1/2 to 5-1/2 cups bread or all-purpose flour
2 TB lard or butter, at room temperature
2 large eggs, at room temperature
 

Pour hot water into mixing bowl. Stir in dry milk, sugar, salt, yeast and 3 cups flour. Blend. Add the lard or butter and eggs. Beat until batter is smooth—if using a stand mixer the batter may require scraping. Stir in the balance of the flour, 1/2 cup at a time, until the dough becomes rough and shaggy and begins to clean the sides of the bowl.

Knead until the dough becomes smooth and elastic, sprinkling on more flour if it remains sticky. Place the smooth, elastic dough ball in a greased bowl, cover in plastic wrap and leave in a warm place until at least doubled in bulk, about 1-1/2 hours.

Turn back the wrap and punch down the dough with your fingers, reshaping into a ball. Cover again and let rise for another 30 minutes or so, until just about doubled in bulk.

Grease 2 large (9″ x 5″)  loaf pans.

Knead the dough for a few moments, pressing out the bubbles. Divide the dough into two pieces, shape into balls, cover and let rest for about 5 minutes. Form a loaf by pressing a ball into a flat oval just about the length of the pan, then fold it in half and pinch the seam tightly. Tuck the ends under and place the dough, seam side down, into the greased pan.

Preheat your oven to 400°.

Cover the loaves with waxed paper and leave in a warm place to rise until the dough puffs about 1″ above the pan’s edge, about 45 minutes.

Uncover and bake the loaves for about 25-30 minutes, shifting the pans about halfway through baking, until they are golden brown and pull away from the loaf pans.

Remove the loaves from the oven, turn them from the pans and thump their bottoms with a finger. A hard hollow sound means the bread is baked. Cool before slicing.

41 Comments

Filed under Cooking, Food, Recipes, Vegetarian

Tagged as ,

by | April 30, 2013 · 5:15 pm

Saying “Bon Voyage” with Bollito

Bollito

Katie from Katie At The Kitchen Door is a Boston-based blog friend who posts gorgeous photographs, writes insightful cookbook reviews and brims with youthful enthusiasm. She asked us to help out with a guest post while she is on vacation in Italy, hinting that she would like something Italian-themed. We decided to honor one of the only things we enjoyed about Florence, a bollito sandwich.

Link here to Katie’s site for the recipe, as well as a tale of our miserable trip to Tuscany.  

Here’s hoping Katie is having a much better time than we did in Florence. We can’t wait until she returns and shows us everything that we missed.

Pinocchios

So we missed the real David. But we did see many Pinocchios.

11 Comments

Filed under Cooking, Food, Italy, Recipes, Restaurants

Tagged as ,

by | April 28, 2013 · 8:02 pm

Benedictine Arnold

Benedictine

Once again, it’s Kentucky Derby time. Around here, locals like to tell Derby guests that Louisvillians love Benedictine. They are lying. Benedictine is boring, and often unpleasantly and artificially green. Yet somehow, it sits as a fixture of virtually every Derby buffet.

BenedictineFlowers

In her Boston Cooking-School Cook Book, Fannie Farmer, who trained eponymous Benedictine inventor Jennie C. Benedict, offered several “cream cheese salads” that seem more interesting. Her student, Benedict, who brought the cucumber-flavored cream cheese spread to the world, on the other hand never bothered  to put a recipe for it in several revisions of her famous Blue Ribbon Cook Book. Some assume the omission was an effort to keep the recipe secret. Gourmandistanis believe she thought the dish too simple and dull to describe. However, desperate for Derby-themed content (having already blogged our way through beef tenderloin and trademark-infringing dessert), we decided to try to liven the old girl up a bit.

Mint Julep

The Mint Julep. Not just boring. Gross.

After going to the grocery for an out-of-season cucumber (another reason we feel Benedictine should not be featured at Derby), we started with the spread itself. Most recipes call for cream cheese, cucumber, a little onion and, horrifyingly, green food coloring. We opted for fresh green garlic and green onion from our local market, with a bit of spring spinach for color. (Thanks to Charles Patteson’s Kentucky Cooking for the spinach tip!)

Benedictine

Louisvillians have made bacon Benedictine sandwiches for years (the need to add salt and fat = another indication that Benedictine is a dull dish). We sprinkled some crumbled crisp bacon over some of ours, and it definitely helped. But we still thought we could do better. We branched out with smoked salmon and dill, scallion and chervil, blanched asparagus spears, radish and microgreens, cucumber slices and chives and more variations. Every iteration improved Benedictine tea sandwiches a bit. But, while certainly prettier than the original, they were still pretty dull.

Benedictine Mint julep

Are we traitors to our Louisville-area upbringing for bashing Benedictine? Probably, but that’s a small sin compared to our continuing disdain for attending the Derby. Truth is, people, going to the track isn’t that much fun these days (if it ever was). Also, that hat really doesn’t look good on you.

BENEDICTINE SPREAD

1 large cucumber, peeled and seeded
2 green onions, white and green parts, roughly chopped
1 green garlic, white part, roughly chopped
2 8-oz. packages cream cheese, at room temperature
2-3 TB mayonnaise
4-6 large spinach leaves, stems removed, roughly chopped
Salt
 

Grate cucumber with a box grater. Place in a sieve over a bowl and let drain. Squeeze out excess moisture.

Place green onions and green garlic in a food processor. Process until finely chopped. Add cucumber and spinach. Process again. Add cream cheese, mayonnaise and salt. Process until smooth.

Refrigerate, covered, until needed.

 
Archival proof that Steve has actually been to the Derby. (And, no, there are no photos of Michelle in a Derby hat.)

Archival proof that Steve has actually been to the Derby.
(And, no, there are no photos of Michelle in a Derby hat.)

36 Comments

Filed under Cooking, Food, Recipes, Vegetarian

Tagged as , ,

by | April 12, 2013 · 9:38 pm

Plagiarizing the Pistachio out of The Purple Pig’s Lemon Panna Cotta

Panna cotta and lemon marmalade

Providing Bon Appétit Magazine with a recipe for Lemon Panna Cotta with Lemon Marmalade was very nice of Jimmy Bannos, Jr. It may make us seem ungrateful to wish he had included in his published version the sugared pistachios that grace the dessert at The Purple Pig.

We’ve enjoyed multiple meals at The Purple Pig, a seemingly always-packed place nestled at the southern tip of Chicago’s Magnificent Mile. We’re usually torn between too many choices—from Turkey Leg Confit with Crispy Lentils to Pig’s Ear with Crispy Kale, Pickled Cherry Peppers & Fried Egg. (Crispy things are very, very popular in Gourmandistan.) We are too afraid (and have too little access to pig ears) to try and recreate the pig ear salad. However Michelle, who saw this recipe for her favorite Purple Pig dessert while planning how to dispose of some aging lemons, had no fear she could crank it out. In fact, she resolved to recreate it.

“There are as many variations on this easy, classic dessert as there are fruits” quoth Mr. Bannos. That may be why he not only left off the pistachios, but also added (to our lazy asses, anyhow) the unnecessary step of plating the panna cotta from ramekin molds. We felt that time was better spent sugaring nuts, as their nicely sweetened crunch completes this cool, tart treat. We served it up just like they do in the Windy City, and had plenty of marmalade left to spread around—just like we’re doing with this pistachio recipe.

Panna cotta

SUGARED PISTACHIOS

1/2 c. raw pistachios
1 egg white
1 TB water
Splash of vanilla
Sugar
 

Preheat oven to 300°.

Whisk egg white, water and vanilla in a shallow bowl.  Place sugar in another shallow bowl.  Add nuts to wet ingredients, then remove with a slotted spoon and toss in sugar.

Place sugared nuts on a baking sheet lined with aluminum foil.  Bake for 20-25 minutes, tossing midway with a spatula.

After nuts are cool, rub excess sugar off with your fingers.  Sprinkle the nuts and the removed sugar over the panna cotta and lemon marmalade.

 

28 Comments

Filed under Cooking, Food, Recipes, Restaurants

Tagged as , ,