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

something new for midwinter: lemony mustard greens

Not mustard greens. The title of this picture is, "The summer I effortlessly lost 5 or more pounds because my CSA's flooded-out farmer could grow nothing but lettuce and greens."

A couple of weeks ago, I found a new way to cook greens, thank goodness. Somewhere along the line I learned to wilt anything semi-sturdy and green and sauté it in olive oil with garlic and red pepper flakes. It’s a delicious method, of course, but I think it’s safe to say that I have been in a rut with it since mid-2004.

Mustard greens, in my experience, don’t take as well to my standard treatment, inspiring me to unearth some alternative recipes for them over the years. Unfortunately, given my lack of discipline in keeping a kitchen notebook (or notebook of any kind), I have no idea what they were. (Seriously, this kills me. Do you at least scribble in your cookbooks? I always resolve to do it and then get lazy, with irritating consequences. For instance, recently I saw a recipe for white beans with gorgonzola in the Dean & Deluca Cookbook. The authors make big claims for it, and I know that at some point in the last few years it was on my list. But did I ever make it? Who knows? I either made it and was not impressed or got distracted and forgot all about it, since my “to-cook” list is also a pretty casual affair.) Earlier this month when I tried something new and wonderful with mustard greens, I promised myself not to fail to write it down. This is in keeping with my usual experience of the first three months of the year: January is for relaxing and nesting, February is for getting your act together and keeping resolutions, and March is for starting to exercise again, not so much because spring’s bare arms are approaching but because by March you need those endorphins.

Anyway: mustard greens with rice, adapted from the recipe for spinach with rice in Madhur Jaffrey’s World Vegetarian, the cookbook that (almost) never lets me down. I love the bright lemony flavor of this dish, especially with a spoonful of yogurt stirred in at the end: it’s quite different from my spicy-garlicky-oily greens. As the author points out, this is mostly greens; the rice is only there to thicken and bind the cooking liquid, so don’t expect a big bowl of greens and rice. This served 2 as a side dish.

If your bunch of mustard greens (about 3/4 pounds, at least at Whole Foods) is attached at the base, separate the leaves and wash well. Bring 6 cups water to a rolling boil and drop in the greens. Cook until just wilted, 2-5 minutes (check at 2 minutes). Drain and rinse with cold water; leave in a colander to drain as much as possible.

Put 2 cups water in a wide pot and bring to a boil. Add 6 scallions, cut crosswise into fine rings all the way up to the green section, 2 or 3 tablespoons olive oil, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and 3 tablespoons Arborio (or other medium-grain) rice. Cook over medium-high, stirring now and then, for 10-12 minutes, until the rice is just done and the liquid in the pot has become a thick little sauce. Add the drained greens and 1/4 teaspoon salt. Stir and cook 2-3 minutes. Stir in 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice and serve hot, adding more lemon juice as desired. I like almost anything better with a spoonful of plain yogurt stirred in, and this is no exception.

bittersweet chocolate truffles

I feel weird about Valentine’s Day. Most people seem to hate it when they’re single and love it when they’re in a relationship, but I’m the opposite. When I was a little girl, I really loved making Valentines, and my mother always gave us sweet presents in the morning before school. When I was a bigger girl and single, it seemed like a fine occasion to wear red or pink and drink margaritas with my friends. But when I’ve been in relationships (and now that I’m married) it just feels weirdly forced and inevitably disappointing. I don’t really want to celebrate it (and goodness knows Andrew doesn’t want to celebrate it), but I end up feeling cheated when we don’t. For some reason I can’t just pretend it isn’t going on. My most passive aggressive self emerges, and everyone has an unpleasant evening. I’m not proud of it, but there it is.

I decided to try to avoid the ordeal this year by making chocolate truffles. I’d get to make something I’d never made before, Andrew would get the chocolate dessert he claims I never make him, and it would feel celebratory in a low-key, at-home way. My reserves of bitterness prevented events from unfolding quite so smoothly (sorry, patient husband!), but—the truffles were very good, and I look forward to making them again. When I do, I will make them much smaller—I think I’d prefer them the size of two small bites—and might experiment with different flavors. They are much easier than pie and one of the nicest textures you could hope to sink your teeth into, a more voluptuous shot of pure chocolate than you get from a shattery bar.

Chocolate Truffles
Makes 20 truffles (or 36 small truffles, the size I would prefer)

This is Ina Garten’s recipe from Barefoot in Paris. I made a few adaptations: she uses half bittersweet chocolate and half semisweet, but I used all Valrhona 70% Guanaja. And she includes Grand Marnier and coffee, but I skipped them because I wanted very straightforward chocolate flavor (I increased the amount of cream, in case more liquid was necessary, which seemed to work out fine).

Chop finely and put in a bowl 7 ounces good bittersweet chocolate.

Heat 1/2 cup plus 3 tablespoons cream in a small saucepan until it boils. Immediately pour the hot cream through a fine strainer into the bowl of chocolate. Use a wire whisk to stir the cream and chocolate until the chocolate is completely melted. (If the chocolate doesn’t melt completely—mine did—put the bowl over a saucepan of simmering water and stir just until it melts.) Whisk in 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract. Cover and chill 45 minutes to an hour, until pliable but firm enough to scoop.

With 2 teaspoons or a 1 1/4 inch ice cream scoop, make dollops of the chocolate mixture on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. (When I do this again, I’d like to use a 3/4 inch ice cream scoop or melon baller.) Refrigerate for about 15 minutes, until firm enough to roll into rough spheres (I waited 30 minutes, which was a mistake—the dollops were too hard to roll; it wasn’t a disaster, but I would have preferred spheres to lumps). Roll the spheres in cocoa powder and chill.

Ina says truffles are best when they’re allowed to set overnight in the refrigerator, but they are also pretty good right away. If you like, roll in powdered sugar before serving. Serve chilled or at room temperature. I think they’re best about 15 minutes out of the refrigerator, still cool but a little softened.

whole-wheat oatmeal pancakes

I didn't realize today was Pancake Day until too late! And somehow I missed Popcorn Day last month. This sucks. What next, I miss Pound Cake Day and Chile con Queso Day?

I guess I still have time to tell you that a couple of weeks ago I tried the whole-wheat oatmeal pancakes in the February Gourmet, and I loved them. Usually novelty pancakes end up disappointing me (I'm a plain buttermilk pancake girl, no syrup, just butter), but I thought these were like the pancake version of an oatmeal cookie. I made one tiny change to the recipe--since I planned to eat them on a weekday morning, I mixed the batter the night before and refrigerated overnight. So I didn't bother to soak the oats in buttermilk (in fact, I use powdered buttermilk), and I used regular old old-fashioned rolled oats instead of quick-cooking. If I didn't already have a dinner planned, this is what we would be eating as we watch the primary returns roll in.

pork enchiladas

I’ve been so quiet here not because I intend to disappear from the internet for two years again but because I’ve started posting at Serious Eats, which is fun but is taking up the lion’s share of my blogging energy. I had, for instance, long been meaning to write here about The Lee Bros. Southern Cookbook and how much I love it, and more specifically about the Oven BBQed Pork Picnic Shoulder. But I ended up posting it on Serious Eats first, as a recipe for pork tacos, which are so very good. I hinted there that the pulled pork makes excellent enchiladas, too, and I made them again this weekend to remind myself.

The America’s Test Kitchen Family Cookbook has a recipe for easy chicken enchiladas that lends itself to endless modification. So far almost every variation I’ve tried has been really delicious, though most of them won’t win any prizes for authenticity. Here I’ve substituted pulled pork for cooked, shredded chicken and tomatillo salsa for enchilada sauce. Sometimes I only use two cups of meat, or one cup of meat and one of beans, or two cups of roasted vegetables and no meat at all. Frequently I use a lot less cheese, but since I made this for Saturday night dinner this week I decided to go for it. Boy—I had forgotten how good it is with all the meat and all the cheese. I could eat this for dinner three nights a week and not complain.

Pork Enchiladas
serves 4-6

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees and make sure a rack is in the middle position. In a bowl combine 3 cups shredded cooked pork, 2 cups of grated Monterey jack cheese, 1/2 cup tomatillo salsa (I use store-bought from Whole Foods unless tomatillos are in season), one 4-ounce can chopped green chiles, and 1/2 cup chopped cilantro. Season with salt and pepper and stir well to combine evenly.

Stack twelve 6-inch corn tortillas (again, I just use Whole Foods brand…nothing special) on a plate, cover with plastic wrap, and microwave until warm and soft, 40-60 seconds.

Lightly spray a 9x13 inch baking dish with vegetable oil. Fill each warm tortilla with 1/3 cup of the meat mixture; roll tightly and place in the baking dish, seam side down. When the dish is full of enchiladas, spray them lightly with the vegetable oil spray. Pour 1 cup tomatillo salsa all over them, making sure it is evenly spread. Sprinkle with 1 more cup Monterey jack. Cover with aluminum foil and bake until heated through, 20-25 minutes.

Remove the foil and bake about 5 minutes more, until the cheese browns.