Get Your Greens

The holiday of green & Guinness is upon us. For those of you racking your brains trying to come up with a green-centric meal for St. Patrick's Day that doesn't turn stomachs or involve excesses of food coloring, here's a quick round up of some of my favorite green recipes:

• Zucchini & Asparagus Crudi
• Broccoli Pecan Soup
• Spaghetti with Sweet Pea Purée & Crispy Prosciutto
• Verde Enchiladas
• Sweet Pea, Spinach, & Basil Bisque
• Homemade Basil Garlic Pesto
• Risotto Primavera

Or you could always go the food coloring route. I won't tell.

Top image, Dooley's Hotel

Risotto Primavera

Rock polishers are the coolest. You know, the little tools with cranks that came in catalogues along with promises of sloughing off the rough edges? I always wanted one. I was the kid that picked up rocks. I looked for ones with patterns, shiny ones, or ones with interesting shapes. A rock polisher promised to bring out "that something special" whatever it was. The shape. The color. The shine. Stirring & stirring until "that something special" is gleaned is exactly what risotto is all about. (After about 15 minutes of repetitive slow stirring I came to this conclusion.) Arborio rice, just like those rocks, are little gems-in-the-rough. Alone it's nothing special but when coaxed and polished it - when the edges become smooth & soft - it really shines.

I love meals that take coaxing. Give me a slow simmer any night. Maybe it's the Southerner in me, but things that take hours of reducing & simmering just have more heart. Another beauty of this Italian staple, not unlike pasta, is its flexibility. I happened to have an excess of veggies at the week's end, so I tossed them in. If you have extra gouda cheese, some nice olives, or too much prosciutto on hand try that instead. As long as you have a cool bottle of wine & nice parmigiano reggiano on had, I'd say you're good to go!

Risotto Primavera

2 c. arborio rice

7 c. chicken stock (can substitute vegetable stock)

3/4 c. dry white wine or vermouth

1 yellow onion, chopped

3 - 4 cloves garlic, minced

1 small zucchini, chopped

1 small bundle asparagus, cut in 1" pieces

1 leek, lower half chopped

1/2 c. white mushrooms, sliced

1/4 c. frzn. peas

2 sprigs oregano, minced

2 sprigs thyme, minced

2 tbsp. olive oil

2 tbsp. butter

1/2 lemon, juice & zest

1/4 c. parmigiano reggiano

salt to taste

pepper to taste

Bring the stock up to a low simmer & keep warm. Meanwhile, in a large dutch oven or stock pot, sauté the onions & leeks until soft but not browned in 1 tbsp. olive oil & 1 tbsp. butter. Toss in the garlic & cook a moment longer. Add the mushrooms, zucchini, asparagus, 1 minced, stalk oregano, & 1 minced stalk thyme & sauté until the veggies have softened a bit - about 6 minutes. Salt & pepper to taste (a pinch or two should do). Reserve the vegetables for later in a large bowl.

Return the pot to heat & add the remaining 1 tbsp. butter & 1 tbsp. olive oil. Toss the rice in the oil & butter then brown slightly - about 3 minutes. Add the vermouth & cook until almost absorbed. Add a ladle-full of broth and stir until absorbed. Continue this process - making sure to keep stirring - until all the broth is absorbed & the rice becomes creamy. This process takes 20 minutes or so.

Finally, toss the vegetable mixture back in & fold to combine. Fold the peas in as well. The parmigiano reggiano, lemon zest, lemon juice, remaining minced oregano & thyme can be added at this time too. Garnish with a grating of parmegiano reggiano.

Curry Deviled Eggs

As a kid I turned my nose up at deviled eggs.  Something about them didn't sound right.  What do you mean deviled?  What's wrong with them? What is deviled anyway?  This sinister plate of mystery food was a regular at family gatherings & every time that strange dish with conveniently-hollowed-egg-slots graced the table the little devil on potted meat cans popped into my mind.  At that, I whipped the other way & bee-lined for the much safer plate of cookies or cheese.  It was only later that I learned that said little devil is actually where the term "deviled" comes from, so I wasn't too far off. 

Now I can't get enough of these Southern staples.  They're perfect with a plate of olives, cheese, & good bread for a simple snack night or whipping up for an impromptu dinner guest.  Curry deviled eggs are one of my favorite variations on the classic variety -- their flavor is a bit earthy & musky with a kick of heat from the curry, pimentón, & cumin. 

 

Curry Deviled Eggs

6 medium eggs, boiled

3 tbsp. mayonnaise*

1 tbsp. dijon mustard

1 small shallot, finely minced

1 tbsp. relish

1 1/2 tsp. curry powder

1/2 tsp. pimentón (smoked) paprika

1/2 tsp. cumin

Boil 6 eggs.  To hard boil, cover in cool water & bring to a rolling boil.  Once boiling, remove from heat, cover, & let stand for 10 minutes.  Rinse with cool water to stop the cooking.  Let cool for a few minutes then peel & rinse.

Slice the eggs in half length wise & empty the yolks into a bowl.  Combine with mayonnaise, dijon, shallot, relish, curry powder, pimentón, & cumin.  Whip with a fork to combing.

Spoon the yolk mixture into the egg halves. You can pipe the yolks in with a piping bag, but I like the "home-made" look of spooning it in. Dust with a bit of pimentón & serve.

*I prefer this version with mayonnaise.  My husband will fight me to the death on this, but I find the flavor to be a little richer & smoother than its counterpart, miracle whip. 

Double-Double Shame

I often start posts off something like this "Nothing is more important than ..... x, y, & z.."  but really there aren't many things that are more important to me than cooking at home.  I love it. Cooking makes me happy.  It makes Ray happy too.  But sometimes you fall off the horse.  And you cheat.  And well, I cheated.  Ray & I trotted in last night with a big box of In 'n' Out & were given shame-eyes by our German neighbor.  "Stupid Americans," she was thinking.  We shrugged off our guilt & tucked into our double-doubles anyway.  It was good.

Omnivore Foods

I've spent the majority of my life around food. I grew up on a small farm in East Texas where I caught catfish, picked berries, milked goats, collected eggs & harvested peaches. I spent summer nights around the dinner table with my family. I made cookies with my mom. I made guacamole & fresh cheese with my dad. Fudge with my grandma. Steaks with my grandpa. Mudpies with my brother. You get the idea.

I began writing Cloves & Cream to share that love with the rest of the world. Now, I've finally launched a personal cheffing service to share that love with my immediate community. Please visit my site, omnivorefoods.com, to learn a bit more about the venture. And if you know any hungry folks in the Southern California region, send 'em my way!

Melanzane alla Parmigiana with Zucchini & Asparagus Crudi

Meeting the parents is always stressful. You've been told not to worry, but no matter how many they're-super-sweets & I-know-they'll-love-yous, you're still a bit stressed. Luckily, Ray's first encounter with my parents' home entailed a heaping plate of warm eggplant parmigiano. From that meal on he was worry free. Now anytime I want to make someone feel at home I know what to make: creamy, cheesy, eggplant with tangy marinara.

Eaking out the last cool nights before spring hits full stride, eggplant parmigiano is ideal for cozying up with good company & a bottle (or two) of red wine. We did just that last night. I've said it before & I'll say it again, not many things are nicer than cooking for friends. To top it off, a pal even told me my eggplant parm beats the infamous Jersey parm she grew up with -- coming from a Jersey girl that's quite the compliment!

Melanzane alla Parmigiana, serves 6 - 8
(a.k.a. Classic Eggplant Parmesan)
2 large eggplant, sliced in 1/8" - 1/4" rounds
3/4 c. olive oil (this sounds like a lot, but you'll need it!)
16 oz. prepared marinara sauce
16 oz. Mozzarella cheese, grated
1 c. Parmigiano Reggiano
1 lb. cooked pasta (spaghetti or linguine)

Preheat the oven to 400F. Warm 3/4 tbsp. olive oil over medium high heat in a sauté pan. Cook the eggplant slices in the oil (about 4 slices at a time) until they are golden and soft (about 2 minutes per batch). Once cooked set aside on paper towels or a brown paper bag to drain the excess oil. Continue this process until the eggplant is cooked -- about 30 - 45 minutes.

In an oiled 9" x 13" baking dish drizzle a light layer of marinara sauce to prevent sticking. Top with a layer of eggplant rounds (about 8 slices or so per layer depending on size) , sprinkle with Parmigiano Reggiano (about 2 tbsp.), marinara sauce (about 1/2 c. per layer), finally a layer of grated mozzarella (about 1/4 c.). Repeat this process 4 times or until all of your ingredients are layered in the pan. Bake for 40 minutes or until the top turns golden brown.

While the eggplant bakes, bring a large pot of water to a rolling boil & cook the pasta (about 8 - 10 minutes) then drain. Serve the eggplant on a bed of linguine or spaghetti & garnish with grated Parmigiano Reggiano.

Zucchini & Asparagus Crudi, serves 4 - 6
recipe Everyday Italian, Giada de Laurentiis
1 bunch asparagus, trimmed
1 large zucchini, trimmed
1/4 c. extra-virgin olive oil
2 tbsp. lemon juice
1/2 tsp. salt1/4 tsp. freshly ground black pepper
1 oz. Pecorino Romano or Parmigiano Reggiano, shaved

Using a vegetable peeler, shave the zucchini into long thin strips. Thinly slice the asparagus on a diagonal. Toss the slices together and place the salad in a serving bowl.

In a small bowl, combine the olive oil, lemon juice, salt, and pepper. Stir to combine and drizzle over the vegetables. Toss to coat. Garnish with the pecorino shavings. Serve.

Kinder Malo or Too Many Kiddie Cooks Spoil the Broth

As of late there has been an influx of underage gastronomes. Back in January I cooed about Julian Kreusser who hosts his own cooking show on Portland public access television, Big Kitchen With Food. 4 year old Dexter Welles's has NYT column, Cooking with Dexter, (written by dear ol' dad, NYT Food Editor Pete Welles) dedicated to his parent-proclaimed "genius." David Fishmen, at a ripe age of 12, has spun out restaurant reviews for the NYT. Slate deconstructs the kiddie cook fad complaining that "it has got to go." This trend smacks of persistent epicurean parents in the kitchen rather than wunderkind chefs. The next "it" chefs & critics, these kids are not, but that doesn't mean they're not as cute as a pea in a pod!



Image, childrens gourmet cooking school, Atelier Petite Chef
Video, Big Kitchen With Food