h o m e * e c o n o m i c s

IMBB 19: i can't believe i ate vegan!

This will sound completely improbable, but I actually tricked myself into eating vegan.  Last Sunday I was standing at the stove, doing some idle stirring and gently scolding myself for not having gotten it together for the latest round of IMBB, which I had read about but not put into my calendar. I looked at the steaming pots before me and realized that I just happened to be cooking a vegan Sunday night dinner: two Madhur Jaffrey recipes, naturally, Anatolian Red Lentil Stew with Wheat Berries and Chickpeas, and New Potatoes Cooked in Their Jackets. (Lest you think this is normal in my house, I assure you, it is not--my table is frequently meatless, but seldom cheeseless eggless creamless, and almost never butterless). Next I assumed I was too late to send my felicitous feast over to Becks & Posh, but for once, I happened to be ahead of the game.

In the last photo, I'm afraid you can see some yogurt, which was an optional garnish for the stew. The stew was, however, just as good without a spoonful of dairy--rich and satisfying. I have never been a big fan of eggplant, but this summer, one of Andrew's friends made a moussaka that has had me rethinking that position. This is definitely the kind of dish that makes you say, yes, I could do without meat for a good long while. The potatoes were spicy and satisfying--though I'm not sure my cooking technique was exactly what it ought to have been, since they were a bit mealy. For dessert we shared an orange...and a few hours later, I made a decidedly un-vegan pound cake, but that's another story.

First I made vegetable stock for the stew.

We had bought all these gorgeous vegetables at the Greenmarket--prettiest carrots you've ever seen--and Andrew was sorry to see them sacrificed to stock. But it was a rich, delicious, even, I thought, buttery vegetable broth, so they did not go in vain. For once, I think it made a significant difference in the final dish.

Cut into one-inch chunks 1 large onion, 2 large carrots, 2 celery ribs (with some leaves), and one fat leek. Peel and smash 8 garlic cloves, and wash 8 branches of parsley (I added a small handful of carrot greens as well, since I had them). Heat 1 tablespoon olive oil in your soup pot. When it is hot, put everything in, along with 2 bay leaves and a sprinkle of dried thyme. Brown the vegetables for 10 minutes, then cover them with 6 cups of water and add 2 tsp salt. Bring to boil; simmer, uncovered, for 30 minutes; and strain.

Then I started the stew. Alas, the first instruction was to soak 1/4 cup of wheatberries for 12 hours, and a key ingredient was dried mint, which I couldn't find at the store. So I substituted "as much time as was available" for "12 hours," and herbes de provence for the mint--going on the iffy reasoning that eggplants and chickpeas are Mediterranean ingredients that would take as well to one Mediterranean seasoning as another. Actually, I was so happy with the substantial fennel-y taste of what I made that I would worry now about trying it with mint instead.

-Soak 1/4 cup wheatberries in 4 cups of water for 12 (ahem!) hours.
-Drain wheatberries. Put in a pot with 2 1/4 cups water and bring to a boil. Cover, turn heat to very low, and cook for 1.5 hours, at which point most of the water should be absorbed (this did not happen for me, perhaps due to my drastically curtailed soaking time; but they were chewy and delicious, so we just drained and added them as if all was well).
-Heat 1/4 cup oil in a large, heavy pot over medium high heat. When it is hot, add 1 finely chopped, smallish-medium onion and fry for 4 minutes, stirring frequently. Add 1 or 2 cups of 1/4-inch diced, peeled eggplant (Madhur Jaffrey says 1 cup; this looked like absurdly not enough to us, so we did 2 heaping cups) and fry for 2 minutes.
-Turn the heat to medium low. Add 2.5 tbs tomato paste, stir and cook for 30 seconds. Add 1 cup of red lentils, stir and cook for 30 seconds.
-Add 4 cups of your vegetable stock (or water) and 2 tbs dried mint (or if you are me, a scant tbs of herbes de provence). Bring to a boil, then cover partially, lower heat, and simmer for 40 minutes, or until the lentils are tender.
-Once it has cooked, MJ says to blend it until smooth in a blender or food processor. Even with the immersion blender, though, this seemed to me like a silly dirtying of kitchenware, since the stew was already fairly un-chunky. So we just moved on to the next stage, which was...
-Stir in another cup of stock, if you want. Stir in wheatberries; stir in a drained can of chickpeas; simmer everything together for 15 minutes. Add lemon juice and salt to taste. Garnish with parsley.

While the stew was at the lentil-simmering stage, there was just enough time to get the potatoes together.

 

This is one of those recipes the recipe-writer introduces with a lyrical description of how perfect it is with the original ingredients, which you, unfortunately, will not be able to find in the United States. In this case, MJ treats us to her memories of itty-bitty potatoes in India, then sniffs that perhaps in a pinch this could be made with diced new potatoes. Luckily, we had bought some very special baby Yukon gold and baby purple potatoes at the Greenmarket.

-Wash and dice (but do not peel) enough potatoes to cover the bottom of your skillet. Soak them in cold water.
-Blend a roughly chopped 1.5 sq inch piece of ginger with 1/2 tsp turmeric and 3 tbs water to form a paste. (I just grated the ginger and stirred in the other ingredients, which worked, but not quite as well).
-Heat 4 tbs vegetable oil in a 12 inch skillet over medium heat. Toast 1/4 tsp whole cumin seeds until they take color, about 30 seconds. Add paste and cook for 1 minute.
-Drain potatoes and add them. THEY WILL SPIT. I should have been more careful about this Stir and fry for 5 minutes.
-Add one cup of chopped coriander. Lower heat and fry 5 more minutes, stirring and scraping bottom of pan frequently.
-Add 1 tsp salt, 1/4 tsp cayenne, 2 tbs lemon juice, and 3 tbs warm water. (You are also supposed to add 1 tsp garam masala and 1 tbs ground coriander, neither of which I had). Stir, scrape bottom, and cover. Turn heat to very low and cook for 25 minutes or until done (Mine were done in 15 minutes...perhaps I cut them too small).

Mmm, brown vegan food. It may not be the prettiest thing you've ever seen, but the spicy potatoes (just spicy enough to make my face glow) went well with the soothing stew.

nothing to see here, ma'am...no yogurt...move along.

Tagged with: IMBB # 19 + Vegan

feliz cumpleanos

THIS, as some of you will recall, is Gonzago, who recently helped me celebrate my boss's birthday with lunch at my house for a select few colleagues.  He stayed over for the weekend, and at his suggestion, we made gazpacho from the Dean & Deluca cookbook. Did you know that gazpacho traditionally has bread in it? I did not. It was not spectacular, but it was easy enough, and refreshing. Next time I'll try the gazpacho in Simple to Spectacular, which does not include the traditional bread and lost out to D&D for that reason only.

It turns out Gonzago's favorite snack is ants on a log. I had forgotten how much I like it, too.
Gonzago likes to travel. Unfortunately, he's also quite a tippler. You should see the scenes he makes.

i heart ina: chicken with croutons and coeur a la creme with strawberry sauce

The reason I just had to go home to see my family is that my parents finally moved into the house they have been building for about a year now. It was an exciting process, but also very stressful--my mother has an incredible eye for detail, which means that she has excellent taste (though she would never praise herself like this, it is true)...and that builders' mistakes do not slip by her. Consequently, they were daily battling these guys about things not done the right way (or not done at all; it did not always require an eye for detail to see what was going wrong). I am pleased to report that the result is really beautiful. Too, I am pleased to report that Becca and I convinced them to break in their kitchen while I was home.

Some people are not fans of Ina Garten, I suppose, but we are not those people. We fondly recall buying the first Barefoot Contessa cookbook because the picture on the front was so appealing. As I remember it (though I suspect I am conflating two memories), we went straight home and made that Nicoise salad on the jacket, which made us believers. My mom appreciates how straightforward and trusty her recipes are. So it was only natural that we would turn to Barefoot in Paris for our first new-house meal; we decided on Lemon Chicken with Croutons and a coeur a la creme.

You will think I am exaggerating, but this meal was rapturously yummy. The bed of onions on which the chicken roasts becomes almost a thick onion gravy, and since you pile everything on top of the croutons, it is a meal in which using bread to sop up juices is built right in. I urge you to try it! And lest you also think we break out the champers every time we cook: this lovely bottle of champagne was a housewarming gift from the builders. Given their fraught relationship with my parents, we worried that it might be poisoned, but so far, we're all still kicking.

the doctor at work

LEMON CHICKEN WITH CROUTONS

As so often happens with Ina Garten, this recipe is mysteriously perfect. I kept checking on the browning chicken, worried that the top would burn by the time the whole cooked. Instead, it cooked in exactly the amount of time she said it would. I don't remember that the meat itself was the juiciest, best I'd ever tasted, probably because the onions and croutons were so good that it was hard to notice anything else.

-Preheat oven to 425.
-Slice 1 large yellow onion; I did thick slices. Put it in the roasting pan and toss with a little olive oil.
-Take your four pound chicken; remove giblets, wash bird, dry thorougly.
-Place chicken on top of onions in roasting pan. Salt and pepper cavity and stuff with 2 quartered lemons. Brush outside of bird with 2 tbs. melted unsalted butter; sprinkle with more salt and pepper.
-She says to truss, but we did not. Roast for 1 hour and 15 minutes
-While the bird is roasting, prepare your croutons.

If you are at all like us, you will pull out a ruler to cut a small country boule into 3/4 inch cubes, thereby making six cups of bread cubes. My mom apologized for handing me the ruler when I began this task, but the truth is, I would have used a ruler even if she wasn't there.
-When your chicken gets out of the oven, let it rest while you make the croutons. Heat 2 tbs. olive oil in a large saute pan until very hot. Lower heat to medium-low and saute the croutons until they are browned--about ten minutes--adding more oil as needed. Sprinkle with 1/2 tsp. salt and 1/4 tsp. pepper.
-Put the croutons on a platter and top with sliced chicken, onions, and pan juices. Try to save room for dessert.

COEUR A LA CREME WITH STRAWBERRY SAUCE

This is a dessert my mother has wanted to make since she clipped a magazine recipe for it as a girl. She bought the mold years ago, but we didn't make it until just now. I have always been curious about it, too, since I of course cannot resist anything that requires special equipment; special equipment shaped like a heart--forget about it! I did not suspect that it would be so heavenly--it is like a crustless cheesecake, thick and sweet and beautifully vanilla-y. I want to pile it on gingersnaps to make mini-cheesecakes. Ina made raspberry sauce, but we made strawberry. You have to make it the day before you're going to eat it, because it sits in the refrigerator overnight; theoretically, it is draining, but ours released barely any liquid at all.

-Using the paddle attachment of your stand mixer, beat 12 oz. room temperature cream cheese with 1 1/4 cups powdered sugar for 2 minutes at high speed.
-Scrape down bowl and change to whisk attachment. On low spead, add 2 1/2 cups cold heavy cream, 2 tsp. vanilla, 1/4 tsp. grated lemon zest, and the seeds of 1 vanilla bean. Then beat on high spped "until the mixture is very thick, like whipped cream." Now, I don't think of whipped cream as "very thick." Ours definitely got thicker than whipped cream--peaks held themselves indefinitely--which may have been too thick, but the result was amazing.
-Line your heart-shaped mold (or a 7-inch sieve) with cheesecloth and pour in the mixture. Put it over something to drain (as you can see, ours came with a heart-shaped draining dish--fancy).
-Refrigerate overnight, unmold, and serve with...

STRAWBERRY SAUCE
-Put 1/2 pint of strawberries, sliced, into a small saucepan with 1/2 cup sugar and 1/4 cup water. Bring to a boil, then lower heat to simmer for four minutes.
-Pour the cooked fruit into a food processor or blender with 1 cup strawberry jam and mix until smooth.
-This makes more than you will need for your coeur. It is also quite sweet, which did not bother me one bit.

so I'm not a food stylist! trust me, it tastes great

tex-mex

I grew up in Houston, where we eat lots of Mexican food. Okay, so a Californian wouldn't call it Mexican food--and a Mexican wouldn't call it Mexican food--so I guess it's time for me to admit that, strictly speaking, what I'm talking about is Tex-Mex. This is something you just can't get in New York. You can get really authentic tacos in the back of little Mexican groceries, and you can pay $20 for cilantro halibut with pistachio mole, but where are the cheese enchiladas with beef chili sauce and orange cheese? (Good ones, I mean). Where are the perfectly greasy fajitas with lard-enhanced flour tortillas? I have never, and I mean not once, had an acceptable flour tortilla in this city. I am surprised when I come upon a passable tortilla chip. So when I go home, as I did a couple of weekends ago, I have to pack in as much Mexican Tex-Mex food as I can.

The first place I want to go is almost always Ninfa's, a chain that has had its ups and downs. They claim to have invented fajitas, and I choose to believe them. When I was very small, we ate at a Ninfa's near our old house, and children were given fans made out of coy-looking paper parrots. I was a great fan of the fan (and of the tiki men that perched on my Coke at Trader Vic's--does anyone remember that?), and I liked putting butter and sugar on my tortilla chips. When I was a little older, we went to the Ninfa's near our new house. There were video games in the waiting area, near the bathroom a cigarette vending machine that made me nervous, and a stand in the middle of the main dining room where a woman made flour tortillas. If you asked, she would give you a ball of raw dough to eat before dinner (N.B. not recommended for the adult diner). Ninfa's has fallen out of favor with my family--and everyone else's, judging by the empty dining room--since multiple changes in management have finally managed to ruin not just the atmosphere but also the food. So now we only go to the original Ninfa's ("Ninfa's on Navigation"), where everything is as it should be. Here you can see beef and chicken fajitas, refried beans and rice, and, lurking on the left, my mother's cheese enchiladas. The best part of this meal is rolling a flour tortilla filled with refried beans and chile con queso...nothing is softer, fattier, more voluptuously comforting. The second best part of this meal actually comes first, and that is loading up on chips and salsa and green sauce before the food comes. I said that I pack in the Mexican food when I am home; if memory serves me, the lifetime truth is that most of the meals I have eaten at Ninfa's I have attacked as if they were my last. As you can see, I get worked up about it after a margarita or two. In this picture, I believe I am denouncing the Yankee cheapskates who don't even give you free chips and salsa when you sit down.

Last month I was talking to my mother on the phone, and she casually mentioned the pecan waffles at Goode Company's brunch. It soon became clear that my family had been hiding from me the fact that a favorite greasy, hole-in-the-wall Tex-Mex & burger restaurant has an amazing weekend breakfast menu. At night, I like to order their hard-shell tacos, which are basically like something you would have eaten at camp, except good; for breakfast, I tried eggs scrambled with venison sausage. As all good breakfasts should, it came with refried beans, rice, a tortilla, and salsa. I know it looks like novelty plastic vomit, but you will have to trust me on this one: it was delicious. The combination of chocolate and cinnamon always makes me think of Goode Company because they make a chocolate-cinnamon milkshake that, while too thick for my taste, is very popular with everyone else.

Before I left the office for the airport, I couldn't help exclaiming to my boss how much I was looking forward to Mexican food. "Is it really that good?" he asked. "Well, YOU wouldn't like it," I said, "It's greasy and cheesy and inauthentic. But it's what I grew up with, and I love it." A good example of something cheesy and inauthentic that is hard to sell Yankees on is chile con queso, which, I am sorry to tell you, is Velveeta and chiles, and absolutely divine on chips. This is the queso at Taco Milagro, a newish place (i.e., opened after I left for college...for all I know, it has been open for 9 years now) where you can enjoy simple, delicious fish tacos, margaritas, and queso at noon or 5pm, with families or the after-work crowd, or at 11pm, with an eardrum-shattering band, a packed dance floor, and a bunch of women who have chosen their tops expressly to advertise the fact that their boyfriends bought them boobs for Christmas. Never mind that, though...the food is plain and yummy, especially the queso.

Queso is easy, you can enjoy it yourself, no matter where you're from! All you need is a brick of Velveeta and a small can of chiles & tomatoes (preferably Ro-tel). Melt the cheese (enough to fill a cereal bowl is a good amount for 2 or 3 people; melting is easiest on the stovetop, I think), stir in as many chiles as make it taste good to you (maybe 1/2 of the tiny can), and serve. If, like me, you live in a city with bad tortilla chips, you might as well bake your own in the oven; those bad chips aren't worth the fried calories. Cut any old corn tortillas into the shape you like, brush them with a small amount of vegetable oil, and bake them at 400 degrees until they are crispy (10 minutes? it's always different, so keep a close eye on them; as long as you catch them before they start burning, they will be tasty).

A final food memory, especially for the flour-tortilla-deprived: when my friend Heather was first married (and I had yet to graduate from college), I saw her make flour tortillas herself. I was amazed by how grown up and domestic she was, but even more by the fact that you could make really good flour tortillas at home. I haven't tried Molly's recipe from Orangette yet, but I will now that...my cooktop works!