Breakfast for the Unstoppable Woman

28 Thursday Mar 2013

Posted by julia chews the fat in Breakfast & Brunch, Cooking For Your Peeps, Lunch & Dinner, The Basics

Nonna turned 90 this month. Which means, amongst other things, that she has witnessed the world transform itself over a span of 9 decades. NINE! How do you celebrate the birthday of someone who has been around for the rise and fall of 42 Italian Prime-ministers, the inauguration of 8 popes, 1 World War and the birth of their first great-grandchild?

Well, it seems only right to give her exactly what she asks for. “Brakfaste. Con il pannecake.”

She uses the word thoughtfully and with intention. While there is a term for “breakfast” in Italian (prima colazione), the two are hardly interchangeable. Traditional colazione in Italy usually consists of nothing more than a dry biscuit and a caffè latte, if that. When I stayed with a second-cousin in Florence a few years ago, she took great care to stock the pantry with what she thought would cater to my North American sensibilities – sugary cereal, pre-packaged “croissants” and individually-wrapped crostate – each specimen coated with the faint aroma of factory plastic. At some point in our co-habitation, she came to understand that I’d much rather have the traditional “S” biscuit and coffee than ready-to-eat factory pastries. (There’s a handful of processed foods that have a special place in my heart – probably quite literally – but this stuff? No grazie.) I imagine that most contemporary Italian families have things like yogurt and toast in the morning. But for the older batch, breakfast still isn’t emphasized as a meal. Not even on weekends.

Here, however, we’ll get together on occasion for a familial Canadian-style breakfast, with scrambled eggs and pancakes and bacon and filtered coffee. And despite it not being something my grandmother grew up with, she has come to fully embrace its merits, amongst them, baked beans – ones made Québec-style, with brown sugar, a healthy dose of molasses and a few sizeable chunks of lardon. Sure, it’s not a skinny dish. But it’s not like you’re eating it everyday. It’s for special occasions, hearty gatherings…like 90th birthday parties.

—–

The recipe below has been swiped from my mom’s collection. It’s based on the traditional fèves au lard (a.k.a “bines“) that you can find on most breakfast menus in Québec. It may not be the most delicate-looking, but it is a thing of beauty, I assure you. Through the beans simmer quite a long time, they are still toothsome; the sauce is pleasantly sticky, sweet and tangy. Everything a good baked bean should be.

Mom’s Baked Beans (Fèves au lard)

Serves 8-10 as a side

*Note: give yourself several hours for these – they are not hard to make, but it takes time to make good ones (see details below)

1 pound dried navy beans, soaked overnight
5 cups cold water
1/2 pound salted pork belly cut into 1″ pieces
1 onion, chopped
2 tsp cider vinegar
1/2 cup ketchup
1/2 cup dark molasses
1/4 cup brown sugar
1 tsp dry mustard
1 tsp salt

Cover the beans in cold water and soak the beans overnight. The next morning, strain and rinse the beans. Add the beans to a pot with 5 cups of fresh cold water. Boil for 30 minutes. Do not add salt to the water as this hinders the cooking process. Transfer the beans and water to an ovenproof casserole. Stir in the remaining ingredients. Cover and bake in a 250ºF oven for 7-8 hours.

Greek jigsaw puzzle

21 Thursday Mar 2013

Posted by julia chews the fat in Lunch & Dinner, The Basics, Vegetarian

≈ 4 Comments

Sometimes the decision to make one meal over another comes down to what’s hanging out in the fridge. It’s not romantic. Or intellectual. It just, is.

But that’s ok, because I think a lot of us are predisposed to rifling through the fridge (and pantry), rounding up what’s there and assessing our options. If there’s something missing, I might excavate something from the freezer (pesto, rapini, cooked canelli beans…) or head to the store to fill in the blanks. It might not be the most exciting way to pull together a meal, but the act of selecting and matching disparate items from your kitchen and making something delicious can be pretty satisfying – like watching a jigsaw puzzle come together. And this nerd LOVES a good jigsaw puzzle. Like this one, for instance.

It’s a Tuesday night, and I have exactly six things in my fridge aside from condiments, some butter and a sad-looking yellow pepper: phyllo, eggs, spinach, green onion, feta, cream – a Greek sextet that cleanly spell out:

SPA-NA-KO-PITA

The missing piece here is the dill, for which I will have to make an excursion through the remnants of a 30cm snowfall. But the dill is crucial, so I suck it up and suit up.

—–

A little while later, laying eyes on the final product – a flaky confection of souffléed eggs speckled with bright green spinach and soft feta – I am consoled that it was worth every slushy step.

Spanakopita (makes about 4 servings for a meal)

(Note: This recipe is one that my mom was given by a friend via a Greek woman in the 70s – in other words, this recipe has total Greek cred. It was a staple at dinner parties, when mom would fold them into bite-size triangles and serve them around the room while guests drank cocktails – a notion that conjures up images of people in brightly-colored florals, walking around holding a spinach pastry in one hand and a Harvey Wallbanger in the other. Everyone smoking indoors. It’s probably not exactly how things went down, but that’s how I like to imagine it. Growing up in the 80s, I just remember them being an exciting feature at family gatherings…and also being the first thing to vanish off the buffet table.)

Ingredients:

1 lb. (1 package) fresh phyllo dough
1/2 cup melted butter
16 oz fresh spinach
4 green onions
large handful fresh dill (about 1/2 cup finely chopped)
1/4 cup finely chopped parsley
1 cup crumbled feta cheese
4 eggs well beaten
1/2 cup 35% cream
pinch of salt
pinch of pepper

Directions:

In a small amount of boiling water, cook the spinach leaves just until wilted. Transfer to a bowl of ice water until completely cooled. Drain the spinach, wring with your hands to remove the moisture and set aside. In a food processor, finely chop the green onions and set aside. Put the dill and parsley in the bowl of the food processor, finely chop and set aside. Pulse the cooked spinach a few times in the food processor.

Heat about 2 tablespoons of butter in a frying pan and cook the green onions on medium heat for 1 minute until translucent. Add the dill and parsley, season with the salt and pepper, and continue cooking an additional minute, until soft. Remove from the heat and combine with the spinach. In a separate bowl, beat the eggs and whisk in the cream. Add the spinach mixture and the crumbled feta cheese to the eggs. Set aside.

Preheat the oven to 375°F

Brush the bottom of an 8×8 inch baking pan with butter. Place one sheet of phyllo in the pan and brush with butter. Repeat until you have 6 layers. Place the spinach mixture on top of the phyllo and spread evenly.

Now, you have 2 options:

1) Take the edges of the phyllo that are spilling over the pan and fold them over the top and brush with butter.

2) Trim the edges and add another 6 layers of phyllo dough, each brushed with butter.

Place the pan in the oven and bake at 375°F for 25-30 minutes or until golden brown. Serve with a simple green salad.

Her Italian Clark Gable

14 Thursday Feb 2013

Posted by julia chews the fat in Cooking with Nonna, Lunch & Dinner, Vegetarian

≈ 11 Comments

A few days ago I spent an evening with my Nonna. It’s rare that we find ourselves sharing some time and space together without any other family members in the mix, but on this particular night, circumstances lined up in such a way that it was just her and I. Nonna and nipote.

We put together a simple dinner – pasta with Swiss chard and ricotta – teasing each other about the “right” way to make it, a sort of a ping-ponging of questions and answers wherein I attempt (quite unsuccessfully) to enforce my points in broken dialect. We discuss the merits of handmade ricotta versus store-bought; she chops some chard and I watch over the garlic frying on the stove. Side-by-side in her kitchen, we reminisce about little details, many about my grandfather – how he liked his pasta cooked into oblivion; how he used to always help himself to seconds; how much he loved having people over for dinner, with a carafe of his homemade wine stationed on the table. His wine was practically undrinkable and we always complained that the pasta was overcooked – but we were happy.

Nonno didn’t talk much during meals, often telling us we talked too much, but he still found moments to inject a zinger or two into the conversation – usually something he knew would get a rise out of my grandmother, who would respond with a small, but swift whack to the back of his head. Without fail, he would peel into laughter and Nonna would shake her head, playfully lamenting: “Oh Lord, give me patience.”

The way they interacted was, to me, completely unique. It was integral to who they were as a couple and as partners, and inseparable from my memory of them as grandma and grandpa. We often think that romance is the first thing to disappear in a marriage, especially one that is decades old. But even in their late age, I would sometimes find him bringing her coffee in bed or holding her hand. They were simple gestures, but ones that were nonetheless tangible reminders of their love for one another; small expressions that slipped inconspicuously into their day-to-day, even in their last ones together.

The soul of that relationship lives on every time I talk to my grandmother about Nonno. She speaks about him with such tenderness. My mom once joked that he was her Italian Clark Gable. He no doubt drove her crazy in moments too – but when you strip it all down, what remains is the affirmation of a true partnership, one rooted in whole-hearted devotion and capable of withstanding the worst of life’s adversities.

As I sit with Nonna at the dinner table, I recognize the love she had for him. I also recognize the love I have for her and how spending this time by her side fills my heart with a warmth that is pure and unspoken and unparalleled.

Happy Valentine’s, Nonna. Ti amo. x

—–

Pasta with Swiss Chard and Ricotta – serves 2

1/2 bunch Swiss chard
1 small onion, sliced
1 clove of garlic, finely chopped
about 1/4 tsp dried pepperoncini flakes
olive oil
1/3 lb dry fettucine (or linguini)
about 1 cup fresh ricotta

Put a large pot of water on to boil.

Wash chard and dry well (a salad-spinner works best). Remove large ribs (the white part at the base of each leaf) and chop the leaves. Set aside.

Once the pot of water has reached the boil, add a handful of sea salt. When the water has reached a rolling boil, add the pasta. Cook uncovered until al dente, being careful to stir every so often.

Put about about 2 Tbsp of olive oil in a large pan set on the stove on medium-high heat. Once the oil is hot (but not smoking), add the onion and fry until transluscent. Add the garlic and pepperoncini flakes and fry for about 1 minute, until the garlic is fragrant and lightly golden (but not browned). Then add the chopped chard and sauté for 3-4 minutes*.

(*you can add a bit of the pasta water to help steam the chard.)

Drain the pasta and add to the pan with the chard. Move the pasta around the pan (tongs work best) to coat with the chard mixture.

Serve in pasta bowls with a generous dollop of fresh ricotta and a drizzle of your best olive oil (and a few flecks of Maldon salt – but don’t tell Nonna).

Note: a nice alternative is to lightly broil the ricotta on the pasta before serving (see image below). Set the oven on broil at 500°F. Once you’ve mixed the pasta and chard, spoon it into a baking dish and add a layer of ricotta on top. Broil on center rack for about 2-3 minutes or until cheese is golden.

Winterism & amateur athleticism

14 Monday Jan 2013

Posted by julia chews the fat in Breakfast & Brunch, Lunch & Dinner, Vegetarian

≈ 2 Comments

Nothing, absolutely nothing, makes me feel frumpier than winter.

Sure, for the first appearances of snow, a handful of us are possessed (Exorcist-style) with the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed enthusiasm of children, enchanted by the soft flakes that tickle our noses and crunch delightfully under our feet. “Let it snow!”, we say, grinning like idiots as we make snow angels and throw snowballs at each other in the street.

Ultimately, though, the romance wears thin by January, when we realise that we aren’t kids anymore and have responsibilities, including, but not limited to: shoveling the walkway, commuting to work, running errands, getting to appointments and classes and other scheduled things (all to be done during the snowstorm of the century, no less). At this point, I’m just barely holding on to the whimsical notion that snow is lovely and magical, an effort unaided by the fact that I’ve been wearing the same shapeless coat, clunky boots and “aw, did-your-grandma-knit-that-for-you?” hat for weeks now, making me feel like an over-packed duffel bag forgotten on the airport conveyor belt.

Bleurk.

My goal for January? To cultivate feelings opposite from those oozing from this photo.

Anti-frump goal no.1: indoor swimming

Now, to the uninitiated (me), this activity does not come without mixed feelings. Deciding to squeeze into a bathing suit in the dead of winter and trek through snow to the pool defies all logic; it feels like you’re missing a beat on the evolutionary trajectory. You’re not supposed to be swimming when it’s minus 20 C, dummy. To make matters worse, I hadn’t been to an indoor pool since elementary school, for swimming classes that I remember being nothing more than a series of recurring ear infections and an exercise in chlorinated-water ingestion. From that point on, I was never really drawn to swimming as a serious activity, occupying myself instead with the feat of making vortexes by running around our backyard above-ground and knocking my brother over the head with big foam pool noodles. As an adult, pool activities never involved anything more rigorous than floating on inflatable lounge chairs and drinking cocktails. These were scenarios devoid of hair-tearing bathing caps and wax earplugs. No “competitive-cut” bathing suits here, thank you very much.

However, I recognize that getting older means that you’re body starts to get creaky and achy unless you do something about it. And since I have yet to find a gym that doesn’t feel like a purgatorial dungeon, swimming has become a reasonable alternative.

The beginnings were rough. After the first few laps, I felt like I was going to have a heart attack, all the while revisiting my childhood memories of ingesting the contents of the pool and getting water lodged in my ears. Why? Why would anyone do this? But soon after my first swim, I discovered the pay-off. Once you’re done flailing around in the water and you’re stepping out of the changing room and onto the street, you feel like the sexiest person alive. You feel like a full-on, miracle-performing superhero.

Another thing you feel is how hungry you are. All of that thrashing around to keep your head above water makes you very, very hungry – though interestingly, you’re not seduced by burgers or take-out Chinese food or any other highly caloric, heavy fare. In fact, all you want is salad. A big mother of a salad. But it’s cold outside, so you still want something soothing and comforting – which leads us to the simple compromise below. Veggie-centric, but also warm and creamy, this salad makes you feel rewarded for your athletic feat, conveniently distracting you from the leftover pool water swishing in your ear.

Carrot, Beet & Tahini Salad (serves 2) -adapted from Sprouted Kitchen

1/2 Tbsp. butter
2 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
2 large beets, roasted and peeled, cut into ¼” pieces
2-3 carrots, peeled into strips
sea salt + freshly cracked pepper
1 tsp. honey
3 Tbsp. white wine vinegar
2 Tbsp. tahini
1 Tbsp. lemon juice
1/2 tsp. ground cumin
12 cups mixed salad greens
2 Tbsp. toasted sesame seeds, white or black or mixed

***if you’ve got some chickpeas hanging around, toss those into the pan too.

Melt the butter in the olive oil in a pan over medium-high heat. Add the carrots and beets and season with salt and pepper. Cook over moderate heat, stirring once or twice, until the carrots are crisp-tender, about 5 minutes. Add the honey and 2 tablespoons of the vinegar and cook over moderate heat, stirring occasionally, until tender and lightly glazed, 2 minutes. Transfer the vegetables to a bowl to cool.

Whisk the remaining tablespoon of vinegar, tahini and lemon juice into the skillet along with the cumin.

Toss the baby lettuces with a light coating of the tahini dressing. Plate the greens and top with the carrots, beets and sprinkle the sesame seeds. Serve straight away.

Surviving Christmas dinner

29 Saturday Dec 2012

Posted by julia chews the fat in Beverage, Cooking For Your Peeps, Lunch & Dinner, Snacking, Vegetarian

≈ 2 Comments

Christmas dinner for 10, survived. But I’m not going to lie – the day after its execution, when I first sat down to write this, I had a knocker of a headache and pretty much just stared at the screen, mouth-breathing. I’m glad to have had these couple of days to step back and regroup.

So here we are, dear readers, on December 29th; I come to you with a sense of calm and sanity that I was unable to muster three days ago when the cooking parade was over and the kitchen looked like it had the worst hangover of its life. All I wanted to do was drink coffee and nap and watch bad movies until I felt functional again.

If nothing else, it was an interesting exercise in love and motivation – from the early-morning grocery shopping marathon, to the chopping, zesting, de-seeding, roasting, whipping, cocktail-shaking and family-wrangling – I have a new-found appreciation for the people who do this every holiday. People with kids, full-time jobs, partners…extra-curriculars. People who spend days, back-to-back, confined in their kitchen cube, but still manage to look like Doris Day when they set it all out on the table, maintaining polite conversation with their guests and smiling pleasantly throughout. You guys rule. Cha-peau!

That said, when you’re doing something out of love, the hard work is worth it. You might be a little worse for wear (box-grater wounds, oil burns, mental collapse) but you’ll recover. Plus, when your grandmother eats your food, puts her hand on your shoulder and very gently calls you “Brava”, all the bad melts away.

—–

Now since it’s almost New Year’s, I thought it’d be a good idea to lay out some (simple, sanity-friendly) recipes that you might find useful for your NYE entertaining. From the menu posted here, I’ve extracted a few delicious little things that would fit an end of year schmooze – whether you’re hosting for two, or a dozen (or even if you’re home sick and entertaining a party of one) – here are some tasty treats to say “Au revoir, 2012” and “Oh well, hello there, handsome 2013”.

Satsuma & Pomegranate Campari Cocktails – serves 6-8 (adapted from Baker’s Royale)

4 parts satsuma (about 12), freshly squeezed, sieved and chilled*
2 parts pomegranate juice**, freshly pressed, sieved and chilled
2 parts Campari
1 part white vermouth
fresh ice
strands of orange zest (optional)

*I know, I know…juicing fruit seems like a lot of work. But once you get into the swing of it, it ain’t that bad. And it makes the drinks so, so much better. Trust me on this one. Put on some music and karaoke your way through it if you want to. It’ll be worth it.

**Tips to de-seed and juice a pomegranate:

1) Remove any light-coloured clothing and put on an apron – things might get a little messy (à la slasher film).

2) Cut the pomegranate in half, hold it cut-side down with both hands over a large bowl and gently press the center, lifting the sides up slightly. This will help release the seeds from the pulp.

3) Holding the pomegranate over the bowl with one hand, cut-side down, firmly whack the skin-side (facing up, towards you) with the back of a wooden spoon until all of the seeds have fallen out into your hand and the bowl. Remove any little bits of pulp that may have found their way into the bowl (there shouldn’t be many).

4) Reserve about 1/4 of the seeds for serving. Pour the remaining seeds into a food processor and liquefy. Push the juice through a sieve to dispose of the tougher bits (the actual seeds within the juice-filled pod). Chill before use.

Serving the cocktail:

1) Divide the reserved pomegranate pods and orange zest strands evenly between 6-8 glasses (martini glasses or champagne coupes are pretty dapper).

2) Fill a cocktail shaker 1/4 full with ice.

3) Pour in the juices, the Campari and the vermouth. Shake until combined.

4) Serve in the prepared glasses. Bottoms up, baby.

Persimmon and pear and caprese toasts (makes approx. 20 canapés) – adapted from Joy the Baker

1 semi-firm persimmon, sliced + each slice cut into quarters
1 medium pear (Bartlett or Anjou), sliced
4-5 small bocconcini, sliced
1 baguette, sliced thinly
1/4 cup pesto (best way to revive frozen pesto from the summer)
basalmic vinegar (the best you can afford)
olive oil for brushing
fleur de sel and freshly cracked black pepper

Directions

1) Preheat the oven to 350° F. Lay baguette slices on a pizza tray or baking sheet; brush with olive oil and bake for about 8 minutes, or until golden brown. Set aside to cool (if you want to do these ahead, conserve them in a brown paper bag until use).

2) Put pesto in a small bowl and brush onto the toasts. Next, toss the bocconcini slices into the bowl and stir to coat the cheese with pesto.

3) Arrange toasts on a serving platter and layer with a slice of persimmon, pear and bocconcini. Sprinkle with fleur de sel and cracked pepper. Finish with a gentle drizzle of balsamic vinegar*

(*if you have the time, it’s worth reducing the vinegar by heating it in a pan until it becomes a bit syrupy.)

Smoky sweet potato hummus – adapted from Blissful Eats

Makes 4 cups

1 pound sweet potatoes (about 2 medium)
1 can chickpeas, drained and rinsed
1 tsp chopped chipotle chili, canned in adobo sauce
1 garlic clove, chopped
2 Tbsp fresh lime juice
2 Tbsp olive oil
2 Tbsp tahini
coarse sea salt and freshly ground pepper

Directions:

Pre-heat the oven to 350° F.

Pierce potatoes several times with a fork; place on a foil lined baking sheet. Bake until tender (about 45 mins). Cool slightly, then peel and add to the bowl of a food processor. Add chickpeas, lime juice, tahini, olive oil, chipotle and garlic. Purée until smooth, adding up to 2 tablespoons of water if necessary. Season with salt and pepper. Garnish with a drizzle of olive oil and smoked paprika before serving.

Pita chips (makes about 60 chips)

2 bags of pita bread (whole wheat and/or white)
herbes de Provence
olive oil
fleur de sel

Directions

1) Preheat the oven to 350° F.

3) Place pita slices on a pizza tray or baking sheet; brush with olive oil and sprinkle with herbes de Provence and fleur de sel. Bake for about 6 minutes, or until golden brown. Allow to cool and reserve in brown paper bags. Serve with smoky sweet potato hummus.

My little friend, quiche

17 Saturday Nov 2012

Posted by julia chews the fat in Breakfast & Brunch, Cooking For Your Peeps, Lunch & Dinner, Vegetarian

≈ 3 Comments

“The skies are charcoal grey,
It’s a dreary downtown day,
But at the end of my 30-foot leash,
Is my little friend Quiche” – B-52’s Quiche Lorraine

Fine. The B-52’s aren’t rhapsodising about food; this song is actually an ode to a poodle. But I like listening to it and pretending it’s about the real thing, for the simple reason that I prefer quiche to poodles (case in point: I just re-read that last word as noodles), not to mention that it’s fun to imagine Fred Schneider and Cindy Wilson singing emphatically about beaten eggs baked in a crust. Yes? Yes.

There’s something both versatile and comforting about quiche, in that it’s equally acceptable to have for breakfast as it is at a fancy dinner party or when you’re cooking for a first date. It’s just a matter of tinkering with the ingredients to match the mood. No matter the occasion, though, I fully endorse the all-butter crust – it’s light and flaky and unctuous all at the same time, the perfect vessel for a custard of egg and cheese.

The recipe here was made for a friend who had recently moved back to the city after several months away on the West Coast. Not having seen her in a long while, I’d invited her for Sunday lunch – that one time you can geek out on making delicate foodstuffs and set out your best cutlery and serving platters, without feeling like you’re overdoing it (even if it’s just the two of you). On the best of days, there’s even an attractive tablecloth in there too. The one you’ve been saving for such an occasion.

This quiche – with it’s ruffled crust and silky layers of egg, Gruyère and sautéed veg – had Sunday lady lunch written all over it. I hope this recipe inspires you to share good food with good people, surrounded by all the pretty little things you cherish most.

Sunday lady-lunch quiche (serves 6)

All-butter crust (makes 2) – from Marta Stewart

1 teaspoon salt
2/3 cup ice water
3 cups plus 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour, plus more for work surface
1 cup plus 5 tablespoons very cold unsalted butter, cut into 1-inch pieces

Directions

In a small bowl, mix together salt and water. Place bowl over an ice bath until ready to use.

Put flour and butter in the bowl of a food processor. Pulse briefly until mixture forms large crumbs. Add the salt water mixture and continue pulsing until a dough has just formed but is not smooth. Be careful not to over-mix.

On a lightly floured work surface, evenly divide dough into two pieces. Form each piece of dough into a disk about 1 inch thick. Wrap each disk with plastic wrap and chill at least 2 hours and up to overnight.

Leek and Swiss chard quiche filling

1 small leek, white part sliced (reserve the green part for another use)
1 small bunch (about 2 cups) Swiss chard, ribs removed and leaves chopped
3/4 cup – 1 cup of grated Gruyère
1/2 cup of crème fraîche or full-fat yoghurt
6 large eggs
about 1 Tbsp fresh thyme leaves
1 Tbsp olive oil
salt and pepper

Assembly

1. On a lightly floured work surface, roll dough into a 16-inch round; fit dough into a 9” tart pan/dish (mine was 1-inch thick), gently pressing it into the sides. Flute, crimp or cut the edges.* Cover with plastic wrap; chill tart shell until firm (about 20 minutes).

2. Preheat oven to 375°

3. Line the tart dough with a sheet of parchment paper and fill with pie weights or baking beans. Transfer to oven and bake until golden (about 20 minutes – be sure to check in every once and a while to make sure that the edges aren’t browning too much). Remove weights and parchment paper and continue baking until golden brown, about 5 minutes. Transfer to a wire rack; let cool.

Baking blind with pie weights and baking beans

4. While the pie crust is baking, you can get started on the filling – heat the olive oil in a deep pan; once hot, add the leeks and allow them to cook a couple of minutes until translucent. Add the thyme leaves and the chopped Swiss chard and cook for another 2-3 minutes, until chard is wilted, but not fully cooked. Remove from pan and allow to cool.

5. Whisk eggs in a medium-sized bowl. Add crème fraîche or yoghurt and mix until combined. Add salt and pepper to taste.

6. Once the chard mixture has fully cooled, spoon into the pie shell. Pour over egg mixture until the tart shell is full (depending on the size of your pie shell and your eggs, you may not need to use all of the egg mixture – if you have leftover dough, make mini-quiches!). Sprinkle the Gruyère over the top.

7. Bake 10 minutes; reduce temperature to 325 degrees, and continue baking until filling is slightly firm and crust is a deep golden brown, 20-25 minutes. Transfer quiche to a wire rack to cool until set, about 10 minutes. Serve warm or at room temperature with a salad of mixed greens.

Eggplant Stacks with Tomato Sauce

08 Monday Oct 2012

Posted by julia chews the fat in Lunch & Dinner, The Basics, Vegetarian

≈ 2 Comments

Normally around this time of year, I would be telling you about tomato canning. Normally, I would relish in describing the whole process, it’s laborious nature and the well-worth-it results. I would tell you that you MUST MUST MUST preserve tomatoes. Normally, I’d have photos to show you and anecdotes to tell. Normally.

But this year, due to a series of unforeseen circumstances, I missed out on our family’s tomato canning festivities. The weekends got consumed with other things, and eventually we were nearing the end of September and locally-grown tomatoes had become scarce at the markets. And then it got colder and suddenly it was October.

It makes me a bit sad to know that the annual ritual had slipped by me this year. To compensate, I spent much of September/early October fitting in as many tomato recipes as humanly possible. A ludicrous amount of tomatoes have found their way into my kitchen in the last several weeks – Roma from my little garden with Rob & James, San Marzano from Nonna’s backyard, Cherry from Sophie’s place and a lovely, yet-to-be-identified variety from the small vines that grow in my apartment’s shared courtyard. Yes – it’s been fortuitous times in the tomato department. Which means that my cookbooks are littered with sticky-notes on every page with the word tomato, pomodoro, tomate. I’ve definitely put my time in. Any day now I might morph into a giant red Beefsteak and dutifully rolled away by a gang of Oompa Loompas.

Toxic tomato love.

Below is a nifty little recipe that will help you get through that last batch of tomatoes. It’s a quicker and lighter take on eggplant parmigiana and is nice layered on top of a bed of spinach or a ladleful of polenta.

Breaded Eggplant Stacks with Tomato Sauce (serves 3-4)

Fast tomato sauce (enough for this recipe + leftovers)

6-8 medium tomatoes, chopped (or one jar of Nonna’s tomatoes)
2 cloves of garlic, minced
1 small onion or leek, chopped
1 Tbsp tomato paste
olive oil
knob of butter

Heat up a large saucepan on medium-high heat. Add a glug of olive oil and the knob of butter. Once the fats are hot, add the onion and reduce the heat to medium. Sweat the onion for about a minute or so, then add the minced garlic. Stir. Allow the onion and garlic to cook and turn golden, but do not allow to brown. Add the chopped tomatoes. Stir and reduce the heat to medium-low. Allow the sauce to simmer for at least 20 minutes*, stirring occasionally.

*Note: my nonno used to start his sauce in the morning and let it simmer for a few hours before serving it at lunch. The taste of a well-simmered sauce is unparalleled. If you have the time, I recommend simmering your sauce on low heat for a couple of hours.

Breaded eggplant

2 eggs, beaten
2-3 small eggplants
1/2 cup flour (flavoured with fresh or dried oregano, salt and pepper)
1/2 cup panko breadcrumbs
olive oil
1/2 cup parmesan, grated

Preheat oven to 375° F. Prepare your breading station: beaten eggs in a shallow bowl, breadcrumbs on a plate and panko on a plate. Dredge eggplant slices in the flour, then the egg, then the breadcrumbs.

Arrange them separately on an oiled baking sheet. Drizzle additional olive oil over them. Place them in the oven and cook for 15-20 minutes, turning once halfway through the cooking time.

On a plate (or on top of salad, spinach, polenta), layer baked eggplant slices, tomato sauce and grated parmesan until you reach a stack size that pleases you. Finish with a light grating of parmesan.

Hibernation and steak

11 Tuesday Sep 2012

Posted by julia chews the fat in Cooking For Your Peeps, Lunch & Dinner

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This past weekend was one nippy, blustery bugger. Gusts of wind blew in short, but phenomenal bursts, ruffling the curtains and knocking over small household objects. Stepping outside felt both thrilling and mildly threatening. If I were a small animal, I would have burrowed into a hovel deep in the ground, and not come out until the coast was clear.

I settled for the human equivalent, spending the day doing laundry and listening to Erik Satie on repeat. A bad day for being outside turned out to be a good day for doing a final triage of summer clothes and getting reacquainted with the warmer, woolier things that will slowly make their way into the wardrobe. I felt like a squirrel counting her acorns. Except my acorns included leg warmers, thermal socks and oversized sweaters. I can’t wait for the day I decide to wear all of those items together. Ladies, hide your boyfriends.

—-

Transitioning into hibernation mode involves embracing the slow layering of mental and physical adjustments that come with cooler days and earlier nights. It’s a time when our fat-storing faculties kick in and we start to crave deeper and richer things. I don’t want to, say, drink a quart of whipping cream, but by this time of year, I start to forgo salads and ceviche and begin to daydream about steak. With mashed potatoes. And mushrooms in wine sauce.

The line-up below is one of the best ways to take cover from a windy, rainy night – bar none. Pour yourself a glass of red and you’re set.

Pan-fried steak with garlic mashed potatoes and honey-roasted carrots

(serves 2)

Note: start with setting the oven to 400°F for the carrots and prepping and boiling the potatoes before doing anything else. Carrots and potatoes should be almost done when you’re ready to start cooking the mushrooms and, at the very end, the steak.

For the carrots:

10 small French carrots (carottes de Nantes)
1 Tbsp honey
olive oil
Maldon salt or fleur de sel
freshly ground black pepper

Directions:

Set the oven to 400°F. Place whole carrots in a roasting dish with the oil, honey, salt and pepper. Put in the oven and roast for about 10-15 minutes, depending on the size of your carrots. Toss the carrots once, halfway through the cooking time. (Note: Stick a half-head of garlic in the oven when you start roasted the carrots – you will use this for the potatoes.)

For the potatoes:

4 medium-sized potatoes, chopped into rough cubes
a knob of butter
1/4 cup milk (or cream)
2-3 cloves of garlic (roasted in the oven with the carrots – see above)
sea salt
potato ricer

Directions:

Put the chopped potatoes in a large saucepan or Dutch oven and fill with enough cold water to cover the potatoes. Place on high heat until the water comes to a boil; lower the heat and allow to boil until the potatoes are soft and easily fall apart (for this recipe, about 15 minutes).

Drain potatoes and spoon into potato ricer a bit at a time, squeezing the shreds into the saucepan. Squeeze the roasted garlic through the ricer as well and mix into the potatoes with a wooden spoon. Add the knob of butter and the milk. Season with salt and stir until smooth.

For the mushroom/onion fricasée:

1 1/2 cups sliced white mushrooms
1 large onion, sliced
handful of Italian parsley, chopped
1/4 cup sweet Vermouth or red wine
olive oil
sea salt and pepper

Directions:

Heat a swig olive oil in a pan on medium-heat heat. Once the oil begins to get hot, add the onions. Cook for a couple of minutes until they are translucent; add the mushrooms and cook until mushrooms and onions are browned, stirring occasionally. Season with salt and pepper. Add the vermouth to de-glaze the pan. Toss in the parsley and give it all a stir. Keep warm until ready to serve on top of the steak.

For the steak:

2 x 200 g (7 oz) pieces of entrecôte, a.k.a rib-eye steak (note: the 250 g piece I cooked was enough for 2 people)
2 tsp steak rub (I used Montréal steak spice, but I encourage you to get creative will your mortar and pestle)
olive oil
knob of butter

Directions:

Allow steak to come to room temperature. Heat a cast iron skillet or grill pan on medium-high heat. Toss in the knob of butter and a swig of olive oil to coat the pan. While the butter melts, prepare your steak by coating it in the spice rub.

When the fat starts to smoke, pull the pan off the heat, place the steak in the pan (there should be a sizzle), and return to the heat. Grill each side between 2-2½ minutes (for medium-rare for a one-inch steak). Wrap in aluminium foil and allow to rest 5-10 minutes before serving (you can pour any accumulated juices from the steak into the mushroom fricasée and heat gently before serving.

Summer grilled cheese

25 Wednesday Jul 2012

Posted by julia chews the fat in Cooking Solo, Lunch & Dinner, Vegetarian

≈ 4 Comments

The heat waves of the last couple of weeks have put me in a bit of a cooking coma. The last thing I’ve wanted to do in the 40°C heat of an apartment without air-conditioning is boil water or broil meat. So, my diet over the past while has consisted mostly of salads. It goes something like this: arugula, walnuts, goat’s cheese; mâche, pumpkin seeds, goat’s cheese; arugula, walnuts, cucumber, goat’s cheese. You get the picture. Snore.

It’s true that salads don’t need to be this monotonous. They really don’t. But being creative in the kitchen sometimes requires certain conditions. And humid heat is not amongst them. When you’re reclining on your couch in front of a rotating fan, in your bathing suit, in the dark, your mind is not usually dreaming up inspiring salad recipes. Rather, it ponders inanities such as, “How long will it take to fill the bathtub with ice cubes?” or “What are my chances of breaking into the city pool without getting arrested?”

As the weather seems to have dipped into cooler territory – at least for the next few days – I’ve gravitated toward things with a bit more substance. And nothing says “substance” like a good ol’ sloppy grilled cheese, particularly one that is bursting at the sides with not one, but two types of fromage. The following is my antidote to the light and breezy summertime salad. Because, let’s face it – salads are wonderful, but every once and a while it’s nice to cradle something hot and gooey in one’s hands.

And this, dear readers, is that something.

Summer Grilled Cheese

makes 1 sandwich

Ingredients

2 slices wholegrain or sourdough bread
2 tbsp Herb Pesto (see recipe below)
2 slices aged cheddar
2 tablespoons goat’s cheese, crumbled
1/2 avocado, sliced (or mashed)
a few leaves of baby spinach
olive oil
butter

Directions

Spread about 1 tablespoon of the Herb Pesto (see recipe below) onto each slice of bread. On one slice of bread, layer: 1 slice of cheddar, avocado, goat cheese, spinach, second slice of cheddar. Top with second slice of bread and press together gently.

Heat approx. 1 tsp. olive oil in a frying pan with a small knob of butter over medium heat. When butter is melted, place the sandwich in the pan and cook until golden brown. Press down on the sandwich lightly, then flip it over and cook the other side until it is golden brown.*

(*I can’t believe I just told you how to make a grilled cheese. You’ve probably been making them since you were old enough to man the stove.)

Herb Pesto

1 clove garlic, smashed
1-2 anchovy fillets (packed in oil) – omit for vegetarian option
handful of spinach
handful of fresh Italian parsley
handful of fresh basil
handful of chopped chives
juice of 1/2 a lemon
1/4 cup olive oil
salt and pepper to taste

Directions

Pulse garlic and anchovy in food processor until chopped. With the food processor running, add lemon juice, parsley, spinach and chives. Slowly drizzle in olive oil until it reaches the consistency of a pesto. Add more oil if you feel it needs it. Season with salt and pepper.

La lotte and the machine

15 Sunday Jul 2012

Posted by julia chews the fat in Lunch & Dinner

≈ 4 Comments

Last Christmas, I was gifted a food processor. In my pre-food processor days, it was a kitchen gadget I longed for, along with the bread mixer and electronic scale. I thought it would be cemented to my counter-top for years to come. It was easy to imagine cancelling Friday night plans to stay in and make hummus or pie dough or soup…

It is now July and I have used it all of three times, twice for the same recipe. This is due in part to the fact that it’s a beast – as large as a desktop computer screen from the early 90s and equipped with so many bits and pieces that the idea of assembling it, then disassembling it, then cleaning every nook and cranny with a dishcloth has convinced me that, for the most part, it’s better off left in the box. It also came with a hefty “congratulations on your purchase” brochure and an instructional DVD, just in case you put part “y” with part “x”, when part “y” should actually go inside part “z”. Ugh. I get tired just thinking about it.

This aversion has also been nurtured by the serious lack of counter space in my kitchen(ette). The food prep area is the size of a standard cutting board and often vies for territory with the dish rack. It’s a sad sight, but I’ve made sure that “large, sprawling countertop” has made it into my mental list of “things to work towards to be happier” (weirdly, “large sprawling countertop” also coincides with “reasons to marry rich”).

Hm, what were we talking about? Right. The food processor.

Despite my general ambivalence towards using it, there are moments when I decide to extract it from the box, specifically when the option of not using it is more distressing. The recipe below is the perfect example of how the food processor can be useful, and ultimately, more friend than foe.

The recipe itself is a variation of “Tasty Crusted Cod” from Jamie Oliver’s Meals in Minutes. It calls for home-made breadcrumbs, which I can’t say I often have on hand. What I do often have on hand, for some absurd reason, is a big hunk of baguette in the freezer. Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to make breadcrumbs from frozen bread by hand, but it ain’t pretty and commonly results box-grater wounds. Enter Food Processor Maximus – the device that allows you to pulse up some breadcrumbs both quickly and gracefully. If you’re using fresh bread, I suggest making a batch for the freezer so that you can return the food processor to its box for a long summer’s nap.

—

The recipe “variation” mentioned above is two-fold, in that the peripheral ingredients are slightly different, as well as the main feature – the fish. As the name suggests, this dish is to be made with cod. But when I arrived at the fish monger’s, he was fresh out. Undissuaded, I asked him to suggest a good alternative. “Nous avons des beaux morceaux de lotte, mademoiselle”, he said, emphasizing that it had the same toothsome texture, white flesh and mild flavour. I concluded that Jaime Oliver would approve and brought it home.

Now, having lived my whole life in Montreal, I consider myself bilingual. I went to school in French. I work in French. I have French-speaking friends. However, as can be expected, there is still some vocabulary that I haven’t yet had the pleasure of encountering. And apparently “lotte” is one of those words that has been a stranger all these years. So, naturally, I looked it up:

http://www.keraliou.com/images/produits/lotte/lotte3.jpg

Yeah.

After a few more minutes typing search words into my computer, I discovered that this was probably NOT the lotte found in the fresh waters of Québec. But regardless of which variety had ended up in my kitchen, one fact remains true: “lotte” is bottom-feeder, and thus slimy, limp and amphibian-like. This was not the visual that had inspired me to make “Tasty Crusted Cod”. Also, the fact that a) I have a pretty vivid imagination and b) I’d just watched Alien the night before may not have aided the situation.

After coming across a few more unfortunate photos, I shut off the computer, walked to the kitchen and decided that it was silly to discriminate between a “pretty” fish and an “ugly” fish and began prepping it for the oven. I likened it to kissing the frog before he turns into a prince – it would be weird at first, but worth it in the end. And, as luck would have it, my lotte-fish prince turned out to be quite a hunky specimen, cloaked in herbs and toasted breadcrumbs.

Lesson learned? Kiss the frog. You may just live happily ever after.

Monkfish with Toasted Breadcrumbs and Herbs (serves 2-4), adapted from Jamie Oliver’s Meals in Minutes

2 monkfish fillets (about 1 lb each), skinned
1/2 baguette (preferably day-old or frozen and thawed)
3 cloves garlic
4 anchovies (in oil)
4-5 sun-dried tomatoes
small, 1-ounce chunk of Parmesan
1/2 lemon
a swig of balsamic vinegar
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
herbs: a small handful of basil; a few springs of thyme

*****

Find an oven-proof dish large enough to accommodate the fish and drizzle some olive oil over the bottom. Sprinkle the salt and pepper into the dish and then add the fish fillets, tossing them in the oil mixture. Place the dish on the middle rack of the oven and turn it on to broil. Allow to cook for about 5 minutes.

Break the bread into rough chunks and place in a food processor. Crush one clove of garlic and toss them in the machine; as it’s processing, add a drizzle of olive oil through the feed tube. Blend until you have breadcrumbs then empty them into a bowl.

Place the anchovy fillets into the food processor with the sun-dried tomatoes and a little of their oil. Add the other two cloves of garlic, chunk of Parmesan and the basil. Grate in the zest from half a lemon and squeeze in the juice. Add a splash of balsamic vinegar and blend to make a paste.

Remove the fish from the oven and spread a layer of the tomato-mixture over the top of the fillets; add a layer of breadcrumbs. Top with the thyme sprigs then place back under the broiler until the breadcrumbs have turned golden brown (8-10 minutes).

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