One of the grandest things about living in Chicago is the park system.  Aside from the beautifully-tended landscapes all up and down the shore of Lake Michigan, there are constantly free events for the public to enjoy.  During the Summer, you can find something to do every day of the week.  Free movies?  Free concerts?  Free dance performances?  Free exercise classes?  Check, check, check, and check.

The crown jewel of these venues is Millennium Park, in the heart of downtown.  There, the Pritzker Pavilion, with its exuberantly swooping facade, hosts a daily (sometimes twice a day) concert for lovers of all types of music, from Classical to Hip-Hop and everything in between.

Though there is proper seating near the stage, I’ve never used it.  Further back is a gorgeous lawn under a loose and arching grid that suspends speakers overhead, giving pitch-perfect sound no matter how far away from the stage you have to sit.

Bring a blanket, bring a crowd, and bring a picnic.  (Did I mention you can bring food and wine?  Well, mostly you can.)  Sit and enjoy one of our breathtaking Chicago Summer nights, looking up at the surrounding skyscrapers.  Watch the sun set.  See the lights flick on and then off in the offices within.  Be grateful you’re not in one.

Recently, a few friends and I decided to get together for an evening of music and food at the Pritzker, as we often do when the weather agrees.  And, faced with the glut of cheap eggplant at the store, I decided it was the perfect opportunity to try out a recipe from one of my best-loved new cookbooks (new to me, anyway), Susan Spicer’s Crescent City Cooking.

Chef Spicer is the mastermind behind my Mom’s favorite restaurant, Bayona; and in a food capital like New Orleans, that’s saying something.  Like the food at her restaurant, the cookbook is filled with uncomplicated and carefully-tuned recipes that make the absolute most of each ingredient.  Nothing is fussy, but everything is good enough to serve to honored guests.  I can’t stop cooking out of it.

The recipe for Eggplant Caviar caught my eye immediately, mainly because of the accompanying photo of a charred, burnt-paper-skinned eggplant, cut open to reveal a creamy and slumping interior.  I didn’t really care what else it involved, I wanted to scoop up that eggplant and eat it with a spoon.

I discovered that the method detailed in the recipe (chop everything by hand) left the dip with bits of red onion that were too large and too abundant for my tastes; they overwhelmed everything else.  Beautiful, yes, but if you are sans food processor, I suggest reducing the amount of onion by up to half.

A quick spin in the food processor to tame the pungency, though, and it was perfect.

Well, nearly perfect.  I do love a smoky eggplant flavor, but I love it even more with some heat to brighten it.  I happened to have some pickled Aurora chilies in the fridge from a previous farmers market experiment, and two of them were just the thing to add the capsaicin I craved.  (I’ve written the recipe to use a more available chili, since I assume no one out there has pickled Aurora chilies sitting around.  If you do, I’m coming over for dinner.)

This is probably one of those recipes that benefits from an overnight rest in the refrigerator, giving the flavors a chance to become acquainted and meld together.  I’m sure it would become positively transcendental.  But I’ll probably never know for sure, since it disappeared completely at the picnic, and I can’t actually imagine having it around for more than a few hours and keeping my hands off the stuff.

As the sun went down behind the city, the changing light transformed the park.  The stage turned into a luminous jewel box, all crimson and gold.

Behind us, the new Modern Wing of the Art Institute hung glowing above the trees.

We finished off the wine and the eggplant and the strawberries and the bread, and we hung around long after the music stopped thrumming from the speakers above.  The moon came out, and the sky dissolved into that perfect, rich indigo.  And we left, and we were grateful.  Let’s do it again next week.

Spicy Eggplant Caviar
Adapted from Crescent City Cooking, by Susan Spicer
Makes about 2 cups

Be sure to not skip the first step, pricking the eggplant with a fork.  If you don’t do this, your eggplant will explode in the oven, and you will have bigger problems than a lack of eggplant caviar.  And don’t be afraid of getting the eggplant too close to the broiler; you want to really char it.  I put mine about 4 inches away from the heat, and the flesh began to slump long before the skin blackened properly.

1 1/2 to 2 pounds eggplant (2 small or 1 large)
1 cup red onion (about 1/2 medium onion, less if chopping by hand)
2 cloves garlic
2 tablespoons chopped fresh basil
1 tablespoon chopped fresh parsley
1 small chili pepper (such as Serrano)
2 to 3 tablespoons olive oil (to taste)
1 tablespoon lemon juice (from 1/2 lemon)
1/4 teaspoon smoked pimentón (Spanish smoked paprika), or cayenne pepper (to taste)
Salt and black pepper (to taste)

1.  Turn the broiler to high, and let preheat for 5 to 10 minutes.  Pierce the eggplant a few times with a fork.  Broil on a rimmed baking sheet very close to the heat until the skin is charred and black, turning about every 5 minutes, cooking 15 to 20 minutes total.  The flesh should feel very soft, and the juices that run out will turn syrupy and thick.  Let cool.

2.  Meanwhile, prepare the other ingredients.  If using a food processor, roughly chop the onion, garlic, basil, parsley, and chili pepper, and place in the bowl of the processor.  If making by hand, chop everything as finely as possible, and place in a large bowl.  Add 2 tablespoons olive oil, and lemon juice.

3.  When the eggplant is cool enough to handle, peel the skin away from the flesh.  Cut the eggplant in half, and remove any seeds that are large and easily visible (some seeds are small and not easily distinguishable from the flesh; these will not be so bitter and are okay to leave in).  Roughly chop the flesh, and add to the other prepared ingredients.  Purée in the food processor, or mix by hand.  Season to taste with pimentón, salt, and pepper, and add extra olive oil if desired.  Serve warm or at room temperature, with pita bread or toasted baguette slices.

Yes, I live in Chicago.

We have “beaches” here, next to Lake Michigan, and there just so happens to be one at the end of my street.  Sometimes the lake looks murky and brown, but sometimes it looks blue as the Caribbean.  Yesterday was one of the latter, and the weather was beyond perfect.

Everyone was out in it.

It was a day for cooking outdoors…

for flying kites…

for building sand castles….

for bringing the hammock to the park…

for buying ice cream from the Monarca lady ringing her bells up and down the path…

and for generally enjoying the gorgeous place we live in.

But not, apparently, good for swimming.  (According to these signs, at least.)

evil fish are there

and evil germs, too

Faced with all this gorgeousness, like any self-respecting person, I decided it was the perfect day for a cocktail.

One of my all-time favorite flavor combinations is lemon and thyme; and it seems to go especially well with summer cocktails.  I am a confirmed Bourbon girl for the most part (as you may have noticed), but on hot, sunny days like this one, nothing quite hits the spot like a well-made gin cocktail.

This is a recipe I devised for a recent event, inspired by two separate cocktails: one, called “Spice“, by Ryan Magarian, and the other called a “Back Porch Swing”, from Jeff Hollinger and Rob Schwartz’s amazing book, “The Art of the Bar“.

The overall effect is indeed like a dry riesling; sweet and tart are both in perfect balance, with enough depth of flavor to beguile, but not overwhelm.  It’s cool and crisp, and exactly what I want to drink when the sky is a blue as a turquoise.

cranberry juice, thyme simple syrup, pear nectar

I love the combination of the thyme simple syrup with the honeyed tones of the pear nectar, both offset with the bright sourness of lemon juice, and the slightest tang and pink hue from the splash of cranberry juice.

shake it so hard that your hands freeze

My gin of choice here is a newcomer to the market, called Broker’s, an inexpensive and mild – but intriguingly spiced – gin.  I did try it with my house favorite, Hendrick’s, but found it a bit too harsh.  Use whatever your favorite mixing gin happens to be.

One caveat for mixing cocktails: proportion is crucial.  When cooking most dishes, one is able to fudge a teaspoon here or there; but in cocktails, if the balance is off by more than a mote, the entire nature of the drink changes.  I have a favorite measuring shot glass, with measurements delineated at 1/4, 1/3, 1/2, 2/3, and 1 jigger.  When in doubt, use tablespoons, and be precise.

i use this so often

Having said that, if you’re mixing cocktails in batches (which this drink lends itself to quite well), the proportions can be fudged a bit more than if mixing just one or two at a time.  I’m giving directions for each below; use whichever fits your needs best.

A word of warning, however: don’t be surprised if you end up making a large batch of the mixer for yourself, to keep in your fridge for summer cocktail emergencies.

Back Porch Spice

The standard rule for mixing cocktails is that if fruit juice is included, it must be shaken.  So it is written here.

1 part thyme simple syrup (recipe below)
1 part freshly-squeezed lemon juice
2 parts pear nectar (such as Looza or Hero brand)
4 parts gin
1 splash cranberry juice
Thyme sprigs for garnish (optional)

1.  In a cocktail shaker, combine all ingredients.  Add ice, and shake hard until shaker is frosted over.  Strain into a glass.  Garnish with thyme sprigs, if desired.

Back Porch Spice For a Crowd

The standard rule for mixing cocktails is that if fruit juice is included, it must be shaken.  So it is written above.  When mixing cocktails for a crowd, however, it is far easier to simply direct guests to stir the mixture over ice.  After one or two, even the most dogmatic won’t mind one bit.

1 cup thyme simple syrup (recipe below)
1 cup freshly-squeezed lemon juice (from 4 or 5 lemons)
2 cups pear nectar (such as Looza or Hero brand)
1/4 cup cranberry juice (or just enough to color the mix a lovely shade of pink)
Gin, as needed

1.  In a decorative bottle, combine thyme simple syrup, lemon juice, pear nectar, and cranberry juice.  Shake gently to mix.

2.  Set bottle of mix out next to bottle of gin, with the following instructions:  Combine 1 part mix with 1 part gin, over ice.  Stir well, and enjoy.

Thyme Simple Syrup
Makes about 1 cup

1 cup cold water (filtered, if possible)
3/4 cup (heaped) white granulated sugar
3 to 4 sprigs thyme

1.  In a small saucepan, combine water and sugar.  Over medium-high heat, stir just until sugar is dissolved.  Add thyme, and reduce heat to medium-low.  Simmer 5 to 10 minutes.

2.  Remove from heat, cover, and let cool at least 30 minutes and up to overnight.  Strain, and refrigerate.  Syrup will keep indefinitely under refrigeration.

If there are two things Kentucky is known for, it’s Bourbon and horses; and they sure know what they’re doing with both.  After leaving the Maker’s Mark distillery (as described in Part I), we decided to stop in at famed Churchill Downs, where the Kentucky Derby is held each year.

It was an impromptu suggestion, and to my lasting shame, I didn’t even know if the horses would be running then or not.  Luckily for us, we were able to catch the last two races of the day.

To say the day was hot would be an understatement.  And by “understatement”, I mean “damned lie”.  The temperature was pushing 100º, and the humidity was nothing to sniff at either.  And there we were, after having spent all day wandering around in it, eating giant omelets and drinking Bourbon.  I, for one, could hardly tell left from right.  How those horses were able to run is beyond me.

At Churchill Downs, there’s no admission fee, aside from the few dollars they charge for parking.  You can just wander in and watch the races from wherever you please.  (Obviously, the Derby is a special occasion, and such rules do not apply.)  We found seats right in front of the finish line.  For the Derby, I think these seats go for about one billion dollars.

We placed a friendly bet or two, but didn’t win anything.  I think there may be more to the art of horse-wagering than picking based on the name you like best.  After the race, they cooled the horses by drenching them with buckets of water.

Some of the horses were special enough to have men in suits dump water on them.

A short walk helps keep their post-race muscles from cramping.

The next morning, it was off to Woodford Reserve for our final distillery tour of the weekend.  Woodford is less than an hour East of Louisville, close to Lexington.  There are loads of horse farms in that area, easily identified due to their impeccably-painted wooden fences with rounded corners (so the horses don’t hurt themselves on anything sharp).  If you go in the Spring, avoid the interstate and take Highway 60 to Lexington for the most scenic view of all the new-born foals.

Woodford has the best-kept grounds of all three distilleries we went to.  The area feels polished, to be sure, but it’s not overdone.  Having been on this tour before, I knew to expect a refined (if touristy) experience, and I was not disappointed.  There is a shuttle van to take you down this hill, but you can take the stairs instead.  You will beat the van by a lot.

Even though the buildings look like jails, they are not very menacing.  The bars are there to keep people out, and barrels full of aging Bourbon in.

While our guide began his tour, a cat wandered up.  Of course, no one can resist a Bourbon kitty.  He stopped the tour dead.

He didn’t seem to mind, though.  I think this is his job.

Inside, the buildings were surprisingly airy and light.  I love these colors and the hand-lettering.

This is the outside of one of the cypress fermenting tanks.  There are stairs nearby to a second floor, where you can look into it from the top.

This is the top of a fermenting tank, filled with bubbling corn mash.  Once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.

I’d never seen an empty one before.  This is what they look like on the inside.  I think the coils are to help regulate temperature, by running hot or cold water through the pipes, but I could be mistaken.

There were six of these giant tanks in this area.  I wonder how long they use them before they have to replace the wood, and if I can have the wood when they’re done with it.

They fill the tanks from long pipes that swivel out over the tops.

In the distilling area, there are three huge copper stills imported from Scotland.

Inside the still is a mysterious fan.  Nobody knows why it is there.

The distilling area is like a cathedral, with incredibly tall ceilings, stone arches, a balcony in back, even a raised dais in front to showcase the distilling process.  The details are beautiful.

Down a few stairs, in the same building, new barrels fresh from the cooperage are stored out of the way.

They look a little too clean.

Some of the old barrels get turned into a decorative wall.  There is a good brew pub here in Chicago that has a similar treatment around their bar.  Since the brew pub came second, I think we know where they got the idea.  Makers of Bourbon-barrel-aged beers are crying a little at this sight.

In the bottling area, our guide poured a glass of cask-strength Woodford into a glass held by a very lucky member of the tour.

He poured out most of this glass, to the group’s chagrin.  There was an audible and involuntary gasp from every throat.  The glass did get passed around for everyone to smell, as a taunt.  Afterwards, while most everyone else’s backs were turned, this tiny bit was unceremoniously tossed onto the ground.  I may have wept a single tear.

Back at the visitors’ center, the traditional Bourbon balls were passed out.  Woodford has the best of any distillery I’ve been to.  They are still not as good as the ones my Old Kentucky Grandmother makes.

And with that, we bid au revoir to Kentucky, and set out for Chicago and home, back to our city lives.  I can’t speak for everyone else on the trip, but that weekend certainly did me a world of good.  A little time to relax over good food with good friends, and sit with a slowly condensing glass of amber-gold Bourbon on chattering rocks… what else could you want?  Luckily, thanks to liquor stores and distributors, you can enjoy most of this in your own living room; I highly recommend trying it.

Thank you for letting me take you on this little journey.  And now, back to our regularly scheduled programs.

This two-part post is a slight departure, as there are no recipes, but it does involve Things Culinary.  I thought you might like to read about it and see some pictures.

As I’ve mentioned before, I lived in Louisville for a few years.  My time there was full of good food, great Bourbon, and some of the grandest people I’ve ever met.  So when a couple of dear friends here in Chicago asked if we would be interested in traipsing a bit of the Kentucky Bourbon Trail with them, I leaped at the chance.  A weekend in one of my favorite cities, filled with Bourbon, food, and friends?  Yes, please.

The planned itinerary included two days touring three Bourbon houses, strategically chosen for their proximity to one another and driving distance from Louisville, as well as by virtue of their product quality… and the fact that they give free samples and are open on Sundays.  You know, the important things.

Saturday morning started off bright and (reasonably) early with a stop at the Bardstown Road Farmers Market, just around the corner from my old apartment.  If there’s one thing Louisvillians love, it’s keeping things local; and there’s hardly a better or more popular brunch than the omelet stand at this market.  Sure, you can peruse the market, take home as much fresh produce as you can carry, and cook your own; but if you’re doing Louisville right, you’re in no shape to cook anything on a Saturday morning.

As long as I’ve known about this particular stand, the same guys have been braving the rigors of cooking omelet after omelet for a never-ending phalanx of hungry locals, through the stifling humidity of Louisville summers.  Behind their open-flame burners, the wall of heat they face unflaggingly would make Lucifer himself blanch.  I’ve no clue how they stand it; just waiting in the inevitably long line makes even me wilt.

When you get to the front of the line, they ask what you want, but I’ve never seen the point in special orders here.  All the ingredients they use come from their own farm (right smack in the middle of the city) and from other local farmers, and they’re all delicious.  Just tell them how many omelets you want; they’re experienced enough to make you something great.

The selection varies from week to week; this week’s omelets featured beets, summer squash, chopped herbs, Capriole goat cheese, Kenny’s cheddar cheese, smoked catfish, and the always delightful slice of Blue Dog bread hidden underneath.  Eaten on the only available benches (aka parking bollards), it was an ideal antidote to the previous evening’s cocktails (to set the weekend theme, of course), and the fuel we needed to power through the long day ahead of driving and tasting.

Our first stop was the Bourbon Heritage Center, run by Heaven Hill Distilleries.  This isn’t an actual distillery tour, as they distill their liquor elsewhere, but rather a tour of the aging warehouses and a fairly thorough explanation of the Bourbon-making process.

The warehouses stand in a clearing surrounded by cornfields, and are truly monolithic things.  They’re white and stark, except for where black mold creeps up the sides, living off the water that evaporates from the thousands of barrels inside.  It’s a little ominous, but if a breeze hits just right, the air smells sweetly of fermenting corn.

You would actually have to be some kind of idiot to smoke around these buildings; the alcohol hangs heavier in the air than the humidity.

Inside the warehouses, there is a blend of old-style and new-style inventory tracking methods.

The bracing in the warehouses is crucial; with so many barrels (50,000 I think per warehouse, though my recollection could be off), if they remove too many from one side, the weight shift can make the entire thing collapse, as happened to one warehouse several years ago.

I love all the hand-painted signs.

Each barrel is numbered.  Milestone barrels, such as this 3,000,000th barrel, get a special place in the warehouse.  This one is so old, it is most likely less than half full, due to the “angel’s share” that evaporates out.

The main Bourbon brands at Heaven Hill, Elijah Craig and Evan Williams, aren’t my favorites, but it’s always nice to try different things.

Next on the agenda was a trip down the road (just make sure you pick the right road) to Maker’s Mark.  This is our usual house Bourbon, so you won’t hear any complaints from me about the quality of the drink itself; but the tour felt a bit Disneyland to me.  Apparently, they were recently bought by Jim Beam, which makes me a little sad.

The setting is bucolic as all get out, but things feel just a touch too polished.  I do love the colors, though.  There are cheesy little cut-outs of the Maker’s Mark bottle in each shutter.

Around the corner, though, there are bigger warehouses.  I guess they put them around the back to not spoil the whole “pastoral country home” shtick they’re got going.

Turns out they really do manufacture things here; the pallets on the loading dock are a dead giveaway.

Inside the distilling area, it was about one million degrees.  The area is full of things that are only slightly menacing.

lots of important lights

a tiny door in the wall for no reason

This is a mash tub, in which they cook the grain mixture that makes Bourbon, when fermented.  The tanks are immense, and go through the floor into another story below.

Each one holds many, many gallons.

Six huge fermenting tanks are in the next room, and all are full with a thick and bubbling mixture of fermenting grains.  The cypress wood is smooth with age and thousands of tourists’ hands.

Fermenting yeast makes a roiling foam along the edges.  The tanks are totally open; you can lean over and look right in, even stick your finger in to taste the mash if you like.  I wonder how many lost sunglasses they pull out of these tanks every year.

It still looks a little spooky sometimes.

In the aging warehouse, there are elevators; but only for moving barrels.

Maker’s Mark has an “Ambassadors” program, which allows you to fill out a form online and get your name on the end of a barrel.  When the barrel is mature, you have the option to buy a bottle from your shared barrel.  Thousands of visitors see these barrels every day, so you should find a more creative name than “HHHHHHHHH” or “FOXY-BLONDE”.

At the end of every tour, you are offered a sweet called a Bourbon Ball.  The center is very sweet and slightly soft, and flavored with Bourbon.  The mixture is dipped in chocolate, and usually topped with a pecan.  Nearly every distillery offers them, made with their own particular Bourbon, of course.  They’re never as good as homemade ones.

Stay tuned for Part 2, In Which Bourbon Is Tasted.  Exciting!

I have a love/hate relationship with farmers markets.

I know I’m supposed to love them; and I mostly do.  Put me in the middle of a well-run market, and I’m like a kid in a candy store.  I become positively exuberant, and I want to buy it all and cook absolutely everything.  So much gorgeous food!  So many possibilities!  Unusual herbs!  Mushrooms!  Cherries!  Zucchini blossoms!  Honey!  Giant flowers!  Peaches!

But on the other hand, I live in Chicago.  Average travel time from my house to anywhere is one hour.  Factor in the two hour round trip, plus browsing time, and you’re coming dangerously close to half a work day.  I may love food and all things culinary with every fibre of my being, but that’s a significant commitment for some flippin’ vegetables.

Despite the seeming glut of farmers markets scattered throughout the city, I’ve found precious few worth a repeat visit, and none are very close to me.  One market opened this year within walking distance of my house, but featured a conspicuous lack of vegetables.  As in, no vegetables.  None.  This is not a joke.

And besides, I never have cash.  Sometimes I wish farmers would accept credit cards.

But every so often, I make the trek to one of the better markets, and I tell myself that I should really do it more often.  I always find something unusual, something to spark my frenzied imagination.  The last time I went was a few weeks ago, my first market outing of the year.  In the midst of my awed wandering, I came across a plastic bin filled with a tangled bramble of green curls, each topped with a pale green flower bud.  Maybe you’re familiar with them, but I had never seen such a thing before.

The lady behind the table called them garlic scapes, and though I had no idea what they were, I knew I had to have some.  She said to “use them wherever you’d use garlic,” and no amount of pressing for further details would divulge more information.  I bagged a selection of slender scapes, with the idea that the smaller they were, the more tender and sweeter they would be, and went on my way.

As it turns out, garlic scapes are the shoots that come out of garlic bulbs, which must be cut off to allow the bulb to fully mature.  Previously, they had mostly been thrown away as trash; but some genius recently realized their delicious (and money-making) potential, and began selling them.  And not that I get to so many farmers markets, but word on the street is that scapes are the new ramps.  Hot stuff, you see.

Back home with my wealth of scapes (16, to be exact), I set out to find the best possible showcase for the pungently fragrant spirals.  Some recipes called for sautéing, which seemed an appropriate way to display their sweeping curves; but a surprising number of pesto recipes turned up as well.  I decided to prepare half as pesto, and sauté the other half to serve over homemade pasta.

The pasta dish turned out well enough; with the fresh shell peas I had also brought home from the market, a few capers, and other goodness (lemon and mascarpone) tossed in at whim, the plate had a green, spring-like vibrance.  A dusting of paprika added a necessary spice, and pretty pop of color.  But the intended star ingredient, the scapes, seemed to have lost much of their bright garlic flavor upon being cooked.  They dulled, and became little more than a tough scallion.  The peas took center stage, which wasn’t a bad thing, but wasn’t quite what I was going for.

Luckily, the pesto was a much greater success.  A mere eight scapes transformed into a jar of some of the most flavorful, brilliant pesto I’ve ever tasted.  Their raw pungency lent the perfect level of garlic flavor, without any bitterness whatsoever, while their herbal qualities belied a total lack of basil, or any other leaf.  A quick spin in the food processor with walnuts and almonds, a handful of parmesan, and a bit of olive oil, and I had the ideal staging to flaunt my scapes.

My recommendation, then, is to buy as many scapes as you can get your hands on, assuming you can still find some.  Make the lot into pesto, and freeze what you won’t use in a week.  Then, when the depth of winter comes, and you’d just about kill for a taste of a real summer tomato or spring pea, thaw a cube or two in your white bean soup, or mix it with olive oil to dip a crusty bread in.  And if that won’t warm you inside and out, I don’t think anything will.

Garlic Scape Pesto
Adapted from Dorie Greenspan
Makes about 1 cup

To prepare scapes, cut off the tough, woody bit at the bottom of the stem (simmer those in broth for a treat).  I blended up the pale green flowery parts in the pesto with no problems, but discard those if you plan on sautéing them, as they can be tough.  Feel free to substitute any sort of nut you prefer.

8 garlic scapes, cut into pieces
3 tablespoons almonds
2 tablespoons walnuts
1/3 cup coarsely grated Parmesan cheese
1/2 to 3/4 cup extra virgin olive oil, as needed
1 teaspoon lemon juice
Salt and pepper, to taste

1.  In the bowl of a food processor, blend the scapes, almonds, walnuts, and Parmesan together.  Drizzle in enough olive oil to make a smooth paste.  Scrape the bowl as needed.  Add the lemon juice, and season with the salt and pepper to taste.  Blend until thoroughly mixed.

2.  Store pesto in a jar, covered with a thin layer of additional olive oil to prevent browning; or freeze pesto in ice cube trays until solid, then store tightly wrapped in the freezer.

I know it’s old hat by now, but I wanted to share the menu I prepared for a recent World Cup party in honor of the US game against Algeria.  (I might’ve shown you the US versus Slovenia menu, but I forgot my camera that night.)

I’m relatively new to the cuisine of Northern Africa, but the more I learn, the more I love about it.  So many spices!  (And I do love me some spices.)  Lamb!  Flatbreads!  Mint tea!  Couscous!  Honey and almonds!  So when I heard the US was playing Algeria, I got very excited.  It was a struggle to keep the number of Algerian dishes to a manageable level.

On the American food team, there was a giant Cobb salad (recipe here), as well as some gussied-up mocha Rice Krispies treats for dessert.  Representing Algeria were chakhchouka served with couscous and flatbread, stuffed dates, and mint tea.

Of course, we had orange wedges for halftime.  It may be the World Cup, but it’s still soccer.

Chakhchouka is typically a lamb and chickpea stew, served over torn bits of thin semolina flatbread called rougag, and is eaten with the hands; I took a few liberties with the idea, not wanting the decidedly American crowd to have to stray from the familiar fork or spoon.  My chakhchouka was a chicken and chickpea stew, with at least 15 different spices, served over couscous, with a thick wheat-flour flatbread known as khubz alongside.  Perhaps not precisely authentic chakhchouka, but it was close enough.

One hit of the evening was the Deglet Noor dates, stuffed with a fragrant mixture of finely-chopped nuts, brown sugar, honey, spices, and rose water.  The homely things couldn’t have been simpler to put together, but the sticky things charmed everyone with their exotic complexity.  A genius move from one guest paired a piece of bacon from the Cobb salad with a stuffed date; the smoky salt of the pork with the chewy sweet dates made me suddenly wish I had wrapped each one in proscuitto and baked until crisp and lightly caramelized.  Next time.

I couldn’t resist serving Rice Krispies treats for dessert, those most American of American sweets.  But, being the person I am, I also couldn’t resist using a markedly posh recipe for them.  (We’re all familiar with the standard Rice Krispies treat, yes?)  Here, cocoa is mixed into the cereal-marshmallow mixture, and the bars are sandwiched and drizzled with a mocha ganache.

The recipe headnotes mention a “tiny jolt of coffee flavor”.  This is wrong.  Not that it’s a bad thing, however.  Normally, a mocha ganache has a mere hint of coffee, just enough to deepen the flavor of the chocolate.  This ganache didn’t hint, it bellowed.  ”COFFEE!”  Perhaps the instant coffee I used was a bit strong, but I added the full 1 tablespoon as directed.  I personally thought it was perfect, especially with the relatively bland sweetness of the cereal part of the dessert.  Proceed at your own discretion.  (A side note: I doubled the amount of marshmallow-cereal mixture, and still had ganache left over.)

Unfortunately, this is the end of the US-themed World Cup menus; but that doesn’t mean there won’t be another World Cup party in the near future.  Stay tuned for more international food battles!

this girl will be waiting for it

Chakhchouka (Chicken and Chickpea Stew)
Adapted from RecipeZaar and VitamineDZ
Serves 6 to 8

The main seasoning ingredient in this stew is ras el hanout, a seasoning blend ubiquitous in North African cooking.  Like its Indian counterpart, garam masala, ras el hanout is not a specific recipe, but a mixture that depends on the whim of the chef or spice house owner.  I mixed my own, but there are pre-mixed versions available.  A good starter recipe is found here; feel free to experiment with the blend to fit your tastes.

2 tablespoons olive oil
3 chicken breasts halves, patted dry
2 medium onions, chopped
1 to 2 tablespoons ras el hanout, to taste
1 tablespoon sweet paprika
1 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1 bay leaf
2 tablespoons tomato paste
5 cloves garlic, chopped roughly
2 carrots, peeled and chopped
2 zucchini, chopped
5 new potatoes (about 1/2 pound), chopped
1 (16 ounce) can chickpeas, rinsed
2 to 3 quarts chicken or vegetable stock, or water
2 tablespoons dried mint
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
Salt and black pepper, as needed
Cooked couscous, to serve

1.  In a large stock pot, heat the olive oil over medium-high heat.  Sprinkle the chicken breasts on both sides with salt and black pepper.  Add the chicken (skin-side down, if applicable), and cook until lightly browned, about 5 minutes.  Turn the breasts over, and brown the other side, 4 to 5 minutes.  Remove to a plate, and let cool slightly.  When cool enough to handle, chop meat into 1 inch pieces (discarding skin and bone, if applicable).

2.  Add the onions to the pan, and stir to coat with the oil.  Let cook until the onions soften and turn translucent, about 10 minutes.  Add the ras el hanout, paprika, cayenne, black pepper, and bay leaf.  Cook, stirring, until fragrant, about 2 minutes.  Add the tomato paste and garlic, and stir to coat.  Season lightly with salt, about 1/2 teaspoon.

3.  Add the carrots, zucchini, potatoes, chickpeas, and chopped chicken.  Add enough stock or water to cover.  Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce heat to medium or medium-low to maintain a simmer.  Liquid level should never drop below the top of the solids; add additional liquid as needed.

4.  Simmer for 1 hour, or until vegetables are cooked to desired softness.  Taste, and correct seasoning with salt and pepper.  Remove from heat, and stir in dried mint and balsamic vinegar.  Serve in bowls over cooked couscous.

Stuffed Dates
Inspired by Food By Country
Makes 30

Feel free to experiment with the nut and spice mixtures in this recipe.  The filling is appropriately sweet, but the amount of brown sugar may be reduced if you prefer.  For a special treat, try wrapping these in proscuitto or bacon and baking until the meat crisps.  Serve those either warm or at room temperature.

3/4 cup almonds
1/2 cup walnuts (or pecans, macadamias, cashews, pistchios, or a mixture)
2 tablespoons brown sugar
2 to 4 tablespoons honey
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1/4 teaspoon ground allspice
1 three-fingered pinch salt
1 to 2 tablespoons rosewater (or orange flower water), as needed
30 dried Deglet Noor dates, pitted

1.  If using raw nuts, toast by spreading in a single layer on a rimmed baking sheet.  Bake at 350º F for 5 to 9 minutes, or until lightly golden and fragrant, stirring halfway through.  Let cool slightly.

2.  In a food processor, pulse the nuts until chopped finely.  Place in a medium bowl.  Add the sugar, 2 tablespoons honey, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, allspice, and salt.  Stir until well combined.  Add 1 tablespoon rosewater, and stir to blend.

3.  Squeeze a little of the mixture together.  If it does not hold together, add additional honey or rosewater as desired until it clumps.

4.  Stuff the pitted dates with teaspoons of the nut mixture.  Dates may be served immediately, or stuffed up to two days ahead and stored in an airtight container at room temperature.

To explain how I discovered the Best Sandwich Cookie Probably Ever, I must begin with soccer.

For those of you who aren’t big into soccer, allow me to explain: it’s World Cup time.  To put it in more familiarly American terms, imagine if the Super Bowl were held only once every four years.  And imagine the rest of the world were allowed to compete.  (And, um, I guess imagine the rest of the world cared about fútbol americano.)

The World Cup is kind of a big deal.

I’ll be honest; I’m not exactly what you’d call a sports fan.  But hey hey, any excuse for a party, am I right?  So when one of my dear friends solicited culinary assistance for his month-long World Cup extravaganza, I said “yes”.  After all, this is the screen he’s got set up in his living room.  That’s 220 ever-lovin’ inches of hi-definition soccer action, people.  How could I refuse?

As for the food, we decided to focus on the US games, offering food that would acknowledge the two nations battling it out on the pitch.  For the first US game this last Saturday, against England, I prepared Chicago-style hot dogs to represent America, matched against Britain’s national dish, Tikka Masala.

(Recipe for hot dog buns is here; recipe for tikka masala is here, more than halfway down.)

To round out the meal, and for a little something sweet, I pulled inspiration from one of the teams who played earlier in the day and made some Argentinian cookies.  (Or at least, that’s what I told people; the truth is, I’d been dying to make the cookies since I heard about them, and any feeble excuse would do.)

Known as alfajores (al-fuh-HOR-ehs), their exact nature was a bit tricky to pin down.  Made with a significant amount of cornstarch (or none at all), the dough is rolled out and cut into rounds (or just dropped onto a baking sheet).  The baked cookies are sandwiched together with dulce de leche (or jam, or chocolate), and coated with powdered sugar (or chocolate, or nothing at all).  Really, the only consistency between recipes is the act of sandwiching the cookies; other than that, it’s all up to the whim of the chef.

The beauty of cookies this variable and this obscure is manifold; if no one knows what they’re supposed to be like, then you can’t possibly mess them up.  Were they authentic?  Possibly.  Were they good?  Oh, my, yes.

Meltingly tender and crumbly in texture, the subtle and lightly buttery flavor of the cookies themselves was matched gorgeously by the relative robustness of the dulce de leche in between.  The high percentage of cornstarch in the cookie dough made for a silken feel on the palate, while the sticky dulce de leche lingered just long enough to remind you of a chewy caramel.

I made over 50 of these sandwich cookies, and the dozen or so party guests (including myself) finished them all off.  Every last one.  They were the only things to go; there were nearly enough tikka masala and Chicago dog leftovers to throw the same party all over again.  I believe one or two lamentations were gently wailed when it was discovered that the alfajores were gone.

Stay tuned for more World Cup recipes; the second US game happens today, but, over plenty of American and Slovenian food, we’ll be watching it on repeat later tonight.  Yes, all 220 glorious, hi-def inches of it.

Alfajores
Adapted from Chow
Makes about 50 sandwich cookies

The high percentage of cornstarch in this dough means that you don’t have to worry nearly so much about toughening from over-rolling.  I re-rolled scraps three times (!), and the cookies still turned out well.  Try to find an organic cornstarch for this (or at least as high quality as you can find), as butter will only go so far in covering up off flavors.  Be gentle when sandwiching the cookies together, as the crumbly, shortbready texture can lead to much breakage.  I used a can of prepared dulce de leche, but if you prefer to make your own, try David Lebovitz’s simple recipe.

8 ounces (2 cups) cornstarch
6 3/4 ounces (1 1/2 cups) unbleached all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature
5 ounces (2/3 cup packed) light brown sugar
4 egg yolks, at room temperature
2 tablespoons rum, or brandy
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
Dulce de leche, at room temperature
Powdered sugar, for dusting

1.  Whisk together the cornstarch, flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a medium bowl.  Set aside.

2.  In the bowl of a stand mixer, beat the room-temperature butter with the paddle attachment on medium speed until smooth, about 30 seconds.  Add the brown sugar and cream for 3 minutes on medium speed until fluffy and light, about 3 minutes.  Add the egg yolks one at a time, beating until each has incorporated, scraping the bowl as needed.  Add the rum and vanilla, and beat until mixed in.

3.  Add the cornstarch mixture, and mix at the lowest speed until just incorporated, 30 to 60 seconds.

4.  Turn the dough out onto a work surface sprinkled lightly with flour.  Knead gently two or three times, if needed, and divide into two even halves.  Shape each half into a disc, wrap tightly with plastic wrap, and refrigerate for at least 1 hour and up to 12 hours.

5.  Preheat the oven to 350º F.  Line two large baking sheets with parchment paper, or lightly flour.  Remove one piece of dough from the refrigerator, and let stand at room temperature for 10 minutes before rolling.

6.  Dust a work surface lightly with flour.  Roll dough to a thickness of 1/4 inch, dusting with additional flour as needed to prevent sticking.  Using a 1 1/2 inch to 2 inch round cutter, cut out rounds of dough as closely together as possible.  Place rounds on the prepared baking sheet, spacing at least 3/4 inch apart.  Gather scraps, knead together gently, wrap again in plastic wrap and refrigerate.

7.  Bake cookies at 350º F for 8 to 11 minutes, or until just beginning to color on the edges.  Let cool slightly on the pan before removing to a rack to cool completely.  Repeat rolling, cutting, and baking with remaining dough, saving all scraps to knead together and roll out at one time.

8.  To finish cookies, spread a slight amount of dulce de leche (1 to 2 teaspoons) on the underside of one cookie.  Very gently press a second cookie on top of the dulce de leche.  Repeat with remaining cookies.  Sift powdered sugar over the tops of the sandwiched cookies to finish.  Serve within 1 day.

(This is part three of a three-part collaboration with Cybelle Codish and Taryn Bickley.  For part one, click here.  For part two, click here.)

As soon as Spring breaks here in Chicago, something amazing happens.  Aside from the trees greening themselves overnight, and the frenzied blooming of flowers, there’s a sea change of a decidedly more human sort.  All at once, your social calendar just blows up.

People crawl out of their Winter hidey-holes, and oh my goodness we should do something!  Dinner plans form on weeknights, not just the obligatory Saturday night outing.  Emails flurry nearly every afternoon, in a back-and-forth of forming plans to go anywhere.  And suddenly, everyone is outside, in that primal need to enjoy the weather while it lasts.

My two collaborators, Taryn and Cybelle, and I are certainly not immune to this need.  Knowing how delightful a meal al fresco can be, we decided on hand pies for our final Savory and Sweet match-up.  Hand pies are perfect for an outdoor gathering: easily portable, and can be eaten with one hand while holding down the picnic blanket in a gust of wind.  Wrap one in parchment for each guest, toss in a bag with some fresh fruit, and you’ve got a party to go.

don't forget beverages

The savory offering here is a chicken and chorizo pie, which might more aptly be called an empanada.  There’s a touch of whole wheat flour in the all-butter crust, which lends a rusticity that befits the unfussy nature of the dish.  The filling is a loose mélange of dark chicken meat and vivacious Spanish chorizo, shot through with fruity green olives and the occasional sweetness of a golden raisin.  If you’re following along at home, the rhubarb chutney from earlier this week was simply fantastic with these, if a touch over the top.  It all depends on how gilded you prefer your lilies.

On the sweet side, we took advantage of the glut of berries in stores at the moment, and decided on mixed-berry pies for dessert.  Brushed with an egg wash for a golden gleam, and dusted with coarse sugar, I can just see these sparkling in the late-afternoon sun, in the park or on the back porch.  The cabernet-colored filling spilling out of the seams might have been avoided by cutting small vents in the tops of the pies, true; but I love the slightly-chewy gummi-fruit texture of those overcooked bits.  And besides, it makes them look positively exuberant.

exuberant, or defiant

For both crusts, I’ve written the recipes to use my favorite technique for cutting butter into flour by hand: mince the butter into as small pieces as possible, freeze, and simply toss with the flour.  Some people prefer to grate frozen butter into flour, which works well in theory, but I’ve always found that my hands melt the butter before I’m done grating.  Whatever method works best for you (including using a food processor, or any other way) is the method you should use.

I hope you’ve enjoyed these photos and recipes as much as I enjoyed putting it all together!  It was a true pleasure working with Taryn and Cybelle, two extremely talented and delightful ladies, who made the hours spent “working” on this feel like a very exclusive party.  I have an inkling that this won’t be the last time you’ll see the three of us partnering up!

our hosts: taryn and her husband brian

Chicken and Chorizo Hand Pies
Adapted from Gourmet Magazine
Makes 12 pies

I’m not the biggest raisin fan in the world, but I nevertheless urge you to include them, no matter what you normally think of them.  The pockets of light sweetness they add simply make the dish.  If, while forming the pies, the crust softens, chill the pies for at least 15 minutes before baking for the flakiest possible crust.

For the crust:
1/2 cup unsalted butter (1 stick), cold
9 ounces (2 cups) unbleached all-purpose flour
2 1/4 ounces (1/2 cup) whole wheat flour
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 egg, cold
1 tablespoon white vinegar
1/3 cup ice-cold water, plus extra as needed

For the filling:
2 whole chicken legs, bone-in, skin-on (about 1 pound)
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 medium white onions, diced
5 cloves garlic, minced
2 bay leaves
1 teaspoon whole cumin
2 teaspoons sweet paprika
4 ounces raw Spanish-style chorizo (about 1 link), removed from casing
1/2 cup light-flavored beer
1/2 cup chicken stock
1/4 cup green olives, chopped roughly
1/4 cup golden raisins

To finish pies:
Flour for dusting and rolling out dough
1 egg, beaten with 1 tablespoon water to make an egg wash

1.  To make the crust, cut the butter into as small pieces as possible.  Pile loosely on a plate, and place in freezer while preparing remaining ingredients, or for about 10 minutes.

2.  In a large bowl, whisk together the flour and salt.  When butter is thoroughly firm, add to flour.  Using fingertips or a pastry cutter, quickly toss and pinch until mixture resembles coarse meal.  Large pea-sized lumps are okay.

3.  Beat egg with vinegar until well blended, and add to flour mixture.  Drizzle 1/3 cup ice water over, and quickly and gently fold in.  Dough may look dry; try squeezing a bit together with fingertips.  If mixture crumbles, add additional ice water by tablespoons, and gently mix together.  If mixture holds together, turn out onto a work surface.  Knead quickly and gently until mixture forms a cohesive ball, just a few turns.  Shape dough into a flat disc, wrap tightly with plastic wrap, and refrigerate for at least 1 hour.

4.  While dough chills, prepare the filling.  Rub chicken legs with 1 tablespoon olive oil, and season with salt and pepper.  Heat a large skillet over medium-high heat.  Add legs, skin side down, and cook until just golden brown, about 3 minutes.  Flip legs over, and brown other side, about 3 minutes more.  Remove to a plate.

5.  Discard all but two tablespoons fat from pan.  Add onions, stir to coat, and cook until translucent and lightly browned, about 5 minutes.  Add garlic, bay leaves, cumin, and paprika, and cook for 1 to 2 minutes, or until fragrant.  Add chorizo, breaking up if necessary, and cook until browned, about 5 minutes.

6.  Add beer and scrape bottom of pan to deglaze and loosen any flavorful browned bits.  Add chicken stock, olives, and raisins; stir to combine.  Nestle chicken legs, skin side up, into the mixture, reduce heat to medium-low or low to maintain a simmer, and cover pan.

7.  Simmer, covered, for 25 to 30 minutes, or until chicken registers 160º F on an instant read thermometer inserted into the thickest part of the thigh.  Remove legs to a clean plate to cool.  If necessary, continue simmering sauce until thickened and no longer soupy; it should be the consistency of heavy cream.  Remove bay leaves, and let cool to room temperature.  Pull chicken meat from bone, discarding skin, and stir meat into sauce.  Filling may be made up to 2 days ahead and refrigerated; bring to room temperature before using.

8.  When ready to make pies, preheat oven to 400º F.  Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper.  Remove dough from refrigerator and let stand 5 to 10 minutes at room temperature.  (If kitchen is warm, divide dough in half, working with one piece at a time, and refrigerating other half to prevent butter melting.)

9.  Liberally dust a work surface with flour.  Divide dough into 12 even pieces, and form each into a roughly round shape.  Keep unused pieces covered loosely with plastic wrap.  Using a floured rolling pin, roll each piece to a disc about 5 inches in diameter (about 1/8 inch thick), lifting and turning dough and dusting with flour as needed to prevent sticking.  The shape need not be perfectly round.

10.  Place 2 generous tablespoons of filling in the center of each round.  Brush the edges of the dough lightly with egg wash, and fold the dough in half over the filling.  Crimp the edges to seal, either with a fork, or by making a series of very small overlapping folds with fingertips, pressing firmly.  Transfer each pie to the prepared baking sheet, lightly dusting off any excess flour.  Repeat with remaining crust and filling.

11.  Gently brush each pie with egg wash.  If dough has softened, refrigerate tray of pies for at least 15 minutes before baking.

12.  Bake at 400º F for about 25 minutes, or until golden brown.  Let cool briefly on trays before before serving, or remove to a wire rack to cool thoroughly before wrapping tightly and freezing.  Frozen, pies may be reheated on a baking sheet in a 350º F oven  for 15 to 20 minutes, or until warmed through.

Mixed Berry Hand Pies
Adapted from Gourmet Magazine
Makes 12 to 16 small pies

I’ve used blackberries and strawberries here, because that’s what was fresh at my market.  Any berry would work here, or even any cut-up fruit you prefer, such as peaches, plums, cherries, or pears.  The grated apple adds natural pectin, which thickens the filling just enough to shape the crust around.

For the crust:
3/4 cup unsalted butter (1 1/2 sticks), cold
1/4 cup non-hydrogenated vegetable shortening
11 1/4 ounces (2 1/2 cups) unbleached all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/3 cup ice-cold water, plus extra as needed

For the filling:
6 ounces (1 heaped cup) blackberries
6 ounces (1 heaped cup) strawberries
1 Golden Delicious apple
1/4 teaspoon ground allspice
1/4 teaspoon freshly-ground black pepper
6 tablespoons sugar

To finish pies:
Flour for rolling out crusts
1 egg, beaten with 1 tablespoon water to make an egg wash
Coarse sugar for dusting (such as demerara or turbinado)

1.  To make the crust, cut the butter and shortening into as small pieces as possible.  Pile loosely on a plate, and place in freezer while preparing remaining ingredients, or for about 10 minutes.

2.  In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, and salt.  When butter and shortening are thoroughly firm, add to flour.  Using fingertips or a pastry cutter, quickly toss and pinch until mixture resembles coarse meal.  Large pea-sized lumps are okay.

3.  Drizzle 1/3 cup ice water over the mixture, and quickly and gently fold in.  Dough may look dry; try squeezing a bit together with fingertips.  If mixture crumbles, add additional ice water by tablespoons, and gently mix together.  If mixture holds together, turn out onto a work surface.  Knead quickly and gently until mixture forms a cohesive ball, just a few turns, using heel of hand with a forward pressing motion to help flatten and incorporate lumps of fat.  Shape dough into a flat disc, wrap tightly with plastic wrap, and refrigerate for at least 1 hour.

4.  While dough chills, make filling.  Rinse berries.  Hull strawberries, and cut into halves, or quarters if large.  Place in a medium saucepan.  Peel apple, and grate directly into pan with berries.  Add allspice and sugar, and place over medium heat.  Bring to a simmer, reduce heat to medium-low, and continue cooking until thick, 5 to 10 minutes.  Stir occasionally to prevent scorching.  Remove from heat, and let cool completely.  Filling may be made 1 day ahead, and refrigerated.

5.  When ready to assemble pies, preheat oven to 375º F.  Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper.  Remove dough from refrigerator and let stand 10 minutes at room temperature.  (If kitchen is warm, divide dough in half, working with one piece at a time, and refrigerating other half to prevent butter melting.)

6.  Liberally dust a work surface with flour.  Using a floured rolling pin, roll dough to desired thickness (a scant 1/8 inch thick), lifting and turning dough and dusting with flour as needed to prevent sticking.  With a rolling cutter (such as a pizza cutter), cut squares of dough, about 4 inches on each side.  Place scrap trimmings to one side, to be re-kneaded and re-rolled only once.

7.  Place 1 generous tablespoon of filling in the center of each square.  Brush the edges of the dough lightly with egg wash, and fold the dough over the filling to make a triangle.  Using a fork, crimp the edges to seal.  Transfer each pie to the prepared baking sheet, lightly dusting off any excess flour.  Repeat with remaining crust and filling.

8.  Gently brush each pie with egg wash, and sprinkle liberally with coarse sugar.  If dough has softened, refrigerate tray of pies for at least 15 minutes before baking.

9.  Bake at 375º F for 25 to 35 minutes, or until golden brown.  Let cool briefly on trays before removing to a wire rack to cool thoroughly.

All photos by Cybelle Codish.  All styling by Taryn Bickley.

This is the second of a three-part collaboration with Cybelle Codish and Taryn Bickley.  For the first part, click here.  For the third part, click here.

Quinoa, for those of you not familiar with it, is an ancient grain (well, pseudocereal, to be exact) from South America.  Pronounced “KEEN-wa”, it’s a rare plant source of all the essential amino acids, making it a complete protein.  In other words, it’s ridiculously good for you.

But more importantly, this tiny seed takes hardly any time to cook (less than 15 minutes), and is surprisingly flavorful, with a nutty aroma.  I keep a stash in the pantry for those times when I’d really love some brown rice with dinner, but have no time to cook it.  Nutritious and fast?  Yes, please.

The first recipe below is for a savory quinoa salad, bursting with fresh asparagus and scallions sautéed in a blazingly hot skillet until just barely blackened.  Lightly roasted grape tomatoes bring sweetness, and pockets of feta add saltiness and a creamy texture.  A salad like this is a fantastic way to use any special finds from your local farmers’ market; just be sure to keep things cut fairly chunky.  That way, each bite is something entirely new, every forkful bound to the next with the rustic flavor of the quinoa.  This particular mixture of vegetables and herbs, however, is just amazing.  It tastes like late Spring.

Second, I’ve adapted a red quinoa pudding recipe from Heidi Swanson at 101 Cookbooks.  Similar to rice pudding, it’s just barely sweet, making it an unusual and hearty breakfast alternative for those of you who need that A.M. sugar rush.  Of course, if you prefer (as I do) to serve it for dessert instead, you can scarcely find a more virtuous option.  Like Heidi, I’ve used a red quinoa here, but it’s purely for aesthetic purposes; if you can only find the more common tan-colored sort, that will work just as well.  A cluster of blackberries and toasted nuts on top turns this humble dish into a cooly elegant plate.

The only caveat in cooking with quinoa is that you must rinse it before cooking.  Quinoa comes with a natural covering or coating that tastes bitter when cooked, but rinsing removes it.  To rinse, use a fine mesh sieve to hold the seeds, and run water over them until it runs clear, using your hand to agitate them as you rinse.  Let it drain slightly, and you’re good to go!

if it's too early for a cocktail, it's too early

Quinoa and Asparagus Salad with Roasted Grape Tomatoes
Makes 4 to 6 servings

The small grape tomatoes are roasted in a low oven to dry and shrivel them slightly, concentrating their flavor into a sort of hybrid between raw and sun-dried tomatoes.  If you have a grill, try grilling the asparagus and scallions instead of sautéing them, for a smoky depth.  And while the grill is hot, throw a few pieces of meat on there; this salad is ideal for an cook-out.

For roasted tomatoes:
1 pint grape (or cherry) tomatoes
1 tablespoon olive oil

For quinoa:
1 cup quinoa
1 tablespoon olive oil
1/3 cup white onion, diced
2 cups chicken stock
1/2 teaspoon salt

To finish salad:
1 pound asparagus
1 bunch scallions (about 6)
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 large bunch mint, leaves only, chopped (about 1/4 cup)
2 tablespoons chopped parsley, leaves only
8 ounces feta
1 to 2 tablespoons sherry vinegar
Salt and pepper, as needed

1.  Preheat oven to 250º F.  Halve tomatoes, and place on a rimmed baking sheet.  Drizzle with 1 tablespoon olive oil, and season lightly with salt and pepper.  Roast for 1 hour, or until slightly shriveled.  Set aside to cool.

2.  Meanwhile, rinse the quinoa in a fine mesh sieve until the water runs clear, swirling with hands to help agitate the grains.  This rinses off a natural coating that, when cooked, tastes bitter.  Let drain.

3.  In a medium saucepan, heat 1 tablespoon olive oil over medium-high heat.  Add the onion and cook until translucent, 3 to 5 minutes.  Add the quinoa.  Stirring constantly to prevent burning, toast the quinoa until fragrant and grains separate, about 3 minutes.  Slowly add the chicken stock (quinoa will bubble up and jump higher than you think) and the salt.  Return to a boil.  Reduce heat to medium-low, and simmer for 12 to 15 minutes, or until tender and all liquid is absorbed.  Let stand off heat at least 5 minutes before fluffing with a fork.

4.  Trim ends from asparagus, and cut into 2 inch lengths.  Set tips aside for the moment.  Cut white and light green parts of scallions into 1 inch lengths, reserving green tops.  Toss asparagus (except for tips) and chopped scallion parts with 1 tablespoon olive oil, and season with salt and pepper.

5.  Heat a large sauté pan over high heat until very hot.  Add asparagus and scallion mixture, and sauté, tossing or stirring, until deeply browned or charred in places and crisp-tender, 4 to 5 minutes.  Add asparagus tips, and cook 1 to 2 minutes more.  Remove from heat.

6.  In a large bowl, combine cooked quinoa with asparagus, scallions, and roasted tomatoes.  Chop green scallion tops, mint, and parsley; add to bowl.  Crumble feta in, and drizzle with sherry vinegar to taste.  Toss gently, and correct seasoning as needed.  Serve warm, cold, or at room temperature.

Red Quinoa Pudding
Adapted from 101 Cookbooks
Makes 4 servings

This dish can be served at breakfast just as easily as it can for dessert.  You can swap the sugar for honey if you like, and feel free to use regular quinoa if you can’t find the red type.  Both options will work equally well.

1 cup red quinoa
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
3 cups milk
3 tablespoons sugar
1 three-fingered pinch salt
1 cinnamon stick
3 pods cardamom, crushed, seeds only
For serving (optional): toasted pecans, fresh berries, honey, plain yogurt

1.  Rinse the quinoa in a fine mesh sieve until the water runs clear, swirling with hands to help agitate the grains.  This rinses off a natural coating that, when cooked, tastes bitter.  Let drain.

2.  In a medium saucepan, heat butter over medium-high heat.  Add quinoa.  Stirring constantly to prevent burning, toast the quinoa until fragrant and grains separate, about 3 minutes.  Slowly add the milk (quinoa will bubble up and jump higher than you think), sugar, salt, cinnamon stick, and cardamom seeds.

3.  Return to a boil, stirring until sugar is dissolved.  Reduce heat to medium-low, and simmer for 12 to 15 minutes, or until tender.  Not all liquid will be absorbed.  Let stand off heat at least 5 minutes.

4.  Remove cinnamon stick, and add additional milk to thin, if desired.  Serve pudding topped with toasted pecans, fresh berries, dried fruit, a drizzle of honey, or a dollop of plain yogurt.

more to come!

All photos by Cybelle Codish.  All styling by Taryn Bickley.

About a month ago, I was invited by my dear friend Taryn and her friend Cybelle to participate in a photo shoot at Taryn’s home here in Chicago.  Taryn, a stylist, and Cybelle, a photographer, were looking to round out their already-impressive portfolios with food-centered work, and they needed some food to style and shoot.  That’s where I came in.

The theme was “Savory and Sweet”, featuring one food prepared two ways (one savory, one sweet).  We agreed on three distinct foods, for a total of six dishes; and other than that, I had free rein to do as I pleased.

Excellent.

This will be a three-part series of posts, the first today, the second on Wednesday, and the third on Friday.  Taryn and Cybelle will also be featuring the photo shoot on their respective blogs, Sage And Style and Shoot Happens.  I’m so thrilled to be a part of this collaboration, and am quite honored to be invited to join such a talented and delightful couple of ladies.  I had an absolute blast spending the day with them, me in the kitchen, while Cybelle flitted around, snapping shot after shot from every angle, and Taryn made sure each errant crumb was ready for his close-up with her staggering library of props.

just a few

And so, I bring you Savory and Sweet: Rhubarb.  First up is an intoxicating Rhubarb Chutney, a savory condiment with layer after layer of flavor and heat; it’s a sophisticated, Indian-inspired match for any sort of grilled food you might be preparing on this Memorial Day, especially chicken or pork.  I’ve had to make another batch for my own personal stash.  For a special treat, serve guests a platter of thinly-sliced and peppery salami, a soft goat’s milk cheese, and this chutney, with crisp crackers alongside.  Heaven.

The sweet counterpart is a Rhubarb-Orange Jam, which comes together in a flash, but tastes like you slaved all day over a hot stove for it.  The woodsy and slightly minted hint of rosemary makes things interesting; on a thick slice of lavishly-buttered rustic bread, it was one of the best things I tried all day.

I’m going to let the pictures mostly speak for themselves, though you will find the recipes below.  I hope you enjoy it as much as I did, and be sure to catch parts two and three later this week!

Any day that starts with tomato sandwiches is a good day.

breakfast

chutney time

caramel, vinegar, onion, garlic, ginger, chili pepper

jam time

more to come!

Rhubarb Chutney
Makes about 2 cups

This spicy-sweet chutney is a perfect match for chicken or pork, though it would be just as good on a rare hamburger or with grilled sausages.  The layers of heat from the chili, the red pepper, and the black pepper are nothing short of seductive.

1 scant cup granulated sugar
1 tablespoon water
1/2 cup tarragon vinegar, plus additional as needed
1 small white onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons fresh ginger, minced or grated
1 small green chili pepper (such as finger or jalapeño), minced
1 1/2 pounds rhubarb, chopped into 1 inch pieces
Peel of 1 lemon, cut off in long strips, and roughly chopped
1 bay leaf
2 sprigs thyme
1 tablespoon mustard seed
3/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes, or to taste
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
1/8 teaspoon ground allspice
1 three-fingered pinch salt

1.  In a light-colored medium pan, heat the sugar and water together over medium-high heat, stirring only until all sugar is dissolved.  Do not stir after this, or the sugar may crystallize and turn into a mess of irreparable lumps.  Let caramelize until light amber in color, tilting the pan and gently swirling to help caramelize evenly if needed.  The caramel will burn in an instant, so don’t turn your back, but it should take around 3 to 5 minutes.

2.  Very slowly and carefully, add the tarragon vinegar, a little at a time.  The sugar will sputter furiously, so be careful.  The caramel will harden at first, but will soften and dissolve shortly.

3.  Add the onion, stir, and cook until softened and translucent, about 3 minutes.  Stir in the garlic, ginger, and chili pepper, and cook for 1 minute.

4.  Add the rhubarb and remaining ingredients.  Stir, and reduce heat to medium or medium low, or to a brisk simmer.  The chutney will begin to look dry, but will become more liquid as the rhubarb releases its moisture.  Cook until rhubarb falls apart, about 15 minutes.  Thin with additional tarragon vinegar if necessary; chutney should be quite thick, but not too sticky and jammy.  Remove bay leaf and thyme stems before serving.

Rhubarb-Orange Jam
Makes 2 to 3 cups

Don’t be scared of using the whole orange peel, pith and all, in this rustic jam.  It lends a welcome complexity to the bitter notes brought also by the rhubarb and the lemon juice.  This jam turns out quite rustic and chunky; if you prefer your jam more smooth, chop the ingredients more finely.

2 navel oranges
1 pound rhubarb, cut into 1 inch pieces
1/3 cup brandy
Juice from 1 lemon (2 to 3 tablespoons)
2 cups granulated sugar
1 heaped tablespoon fresh rosemary, chopped finely

1.  Quarter the oranges lengthwise.  Slice the quarters crossways into very thin slices, discarding any seeds that may appear.

2.  In a large pan, combine orange slices with all remaining ingredients.  Bring to a brisk simmer over medium-high heat, then reduce heat to medium-low.  Stirring often to prevent scorching, simmer until rhubarb breaks down and mixture thickens, 15 to 20 minutes.  Cool before serving.

All photos by Cybelle Codish.  All styling by Taryn Bickley.