Matzo Brei Wins Again

As we have previously established, I was not always a fan of matzo brei.  http://cookwithlaynie.blogspot.com/2009/04/just-little.html

Since becoming a fan I have usually made matzo brei during Passover. I kept meaning to make it this week, but as you know this has not been an ordinary Passover, just as it hasn’t been an ordinary time in a whole lot of other respects.  

Yesterday I thought, “If you don’t make matzo brei today or tomorrow, Pesach (Passover) will be over.” I decided to make it today. Found a few recipes online yesterday, and this was my favorite. https://norecipes.com/lemon-ricotta-matzo-brei-recipe/

I had some orange peel and so I made a half-lemon zest, half-orange zest mixture, and since I didn't have ricotta I used goat cheese. (This second substitution was actually a bonus, since half the time the goat cheese log goes bad before I can eat the whole thing.)

Maybe it was the pandemic. Maybe it happened because it was the last day of Passover. Whatever the cause, the fact is that I poured the egg mixture in the pan, turned the burner so it was medium-low, congratulated myself on getting the whole shebang organized—and then realized that I had forgotten to add the cheese. Yikes! What to do?

I thought, “Fine! I'll add the cheese now.” The bottom had started to brown, so there was no turning back. But what about turning the brei? After scattering the goat cheese over the top, I folded the brei like an omelet. I then let it cook for a few minutes, and flipped it. 

After a few minutes I had another look. It had browned on both sides. It was yummy. Someday soon I will make it and add the cheese at the suggested time. Maybe it will be ricotta. But I still have a lot of goat cheese. Stay tuned.

©2020 Laynie Tzena. All Rights Reserved.

Pescado De Casa, or The Case of the Missing Lemon

Well, after talking to someone at the fish counter the other night who asked what I was going to do with that rockfish, the plan was to (finally, some would say) write you about Joyce Goldstein’s wonderful “Rockfish in Indonesian Sauce.” But as luck would have it, I was out of a key ingredient: lemon.  

I did have a Murcott mandarin orange and some spring onions from the market—and a couple of artichokes.  I consulted the online oracles for rockfish and oranges and found a great website called “Galley Pirate.” Their recipes are for sailors and others who find themselves on the open seas. I may not be on the open seas (though I do love the water), but I know a great recipe when I see one. I adapted it to the ingredients on hand and presto!  Dinner.

Rockfish a l’Orange (adapted from Galley Pirates; Serves 2)

1 lb. rockfish (about three pieces)
½ tablespoon butter
1½ teaspoons olive oil
1 tablespoon minced spring onion
½ teaspoon dried tarragon
¼ teaspoon salt
Mixed peppercorns
1 mandarin orange (or navel orange)
¼ cup white wine or water (if using water, add dried orange peel or a spritz of orange oil)
Pinch dried orange peel(optional)
½ teaspoon flour
Tarragon for garnish

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Mince the shallots. Juice and zest the mandarin or orange.

In a large skillet, sauté shallots and orange zest in the butter and olive oil. Add the orange juice, water, dried orange peel, dried tarragon, salt and pepper to the pan and sauté for a minute or two longer.

Prepare a serving platter. Wipe a baking dish with oil, add rockfish. Pour the green onion-orange mixture over the fish and place the pan in the oven.

Cook about 20 minutes (test after fifteen minutes; when you can flake the fish easily with a fork, it’s done. Move the rockfish from the baking dish onto the serving platter. Pour the remaining sauce from the baking dish back into the skillet. Sprinkle the flour into the pan and stir until thickened. Add more water if it becomes too thick. Pour the sauce over the fish fillets on the serving platter, top with tarragon, and enjoy!

“What about the artichoke?”

I steamed it. It took 45 minutes, and I am henceforth forswearing large artichokes, outside of restaurants. But the sauce was heaven on those leaves.

©2019 Laynie Tzena.  All Rights Reserved.

What's For Breakfast, Mom?

When you’re a kid, it’s easy. Mom (or Dad) makes breakfast, for most people. But once you’re out of the house? Or say Mom and Dad, rushing to work or sleeping because they work at night, can’t make breakfast for you—what then? Or say you’re little Ruth Reichl and you know Mom’s concoctions could be dangerous? What do you do?

You might reach for your favorite bowl, a nearby box of cereal, and pour some milk over it. Or you might improvise. Once you’re grown, you can improvise in all kinds of ways. You can eat whatever you want and call it breakfast.

Heresy, you say? Actually, it’s tradition. There have been all kinds of breakfasts over the years. The word we use today didn’t even come into use until the 15^th century, says Wikipedia. And if you enjoy eggs at dinnertime you’ve got plenty of historical company, since that’s when the first meal of the day was eaten, for Brits, until the 13^th century. But ancient Egyptian working people ate in the morning—and what a meal!  Beer, bread, and onions.

You say you can’t eat anything in the morning? Call yourself an “Aquinian” (wait till your friends hear that one). Thomas Aquinas is said to have viewed eating early as a sin, suggestive of other “appetites”—like drinking. Better to have an empty stomach and pure thoughts.

Might have worked for him, but not me. If I don’t have breakfast I get crabby. And just like you, I’m busy and don’t have time for anything elaborate. I often have “Laynie’s Morning Miracle” http://cookwithlaynie.blogspot.com/2009/04/its-all-about-ed-and-mollie.html on hand to heat up; when I don’t, I reach for some muesli, soaking it while I get dressed. I’d found some in the store, but they were either too sweet (I lived for Sugar Frosted Flakes in my shorter days, but these days I’d rather have that sugar in pastry or gelato, thanks) or just not all that interesting. So one fine day I made this, and I’ve been creating variations on it ever since. I pull the latest version out of the fridge and while I’m getting dressed it is communing with some milk. 

Don’t tell Thomas.

“Mama’s Muesli” (About four 1/3 cup servings)

1 cup rolled oats (I use the thinner ones; if you want to use thick ones, soak the muesli overnight)

1/3 cup rye flakes

2 tablespoons sliced almonds, toasted

1 tablespoon toasted pistachios, chopped

1 tablespoon sunflower seeds

1 teaspoon sesame seeds, toasted (required; they give this an amazing flavor)

½ teaspoon ground hempseeds

¼ teaspoon flaxseeds

¼ teaspoon dark flaxseed meal (you can also just choose one, but I like the texture of the whole ones so I use both)
2 dates (I love Cire from Flying Disc Ranch [at the Ferry Plaza market on Saturdays and maybe at the Berkeley one at Shattuck and Vine on Thursdays], black dates, when Michael has them at the Crocker Galleria market, and also his dry dates like Kway and Thorry; you can also use Deglet or Medjool)

1 tablespoon raisins (I like Thompson)
1 heaping teaspoon cinnamon 

Pinch of salt

Combine everything in a bowl, and keep in a container in the fridge. When you're ready for breakfast, scoop 1/3 cup out of the container and put it in your favorite bowl, then pour milk over it (I like reduced fat milk—not as thin as skim—but almond might be great, too), do something for a few minutes while everybody gets acquainted, and enjoy!

“So many ingredients!  Who has time in the morning?”

Ah, but that’s the beauty of it. That’s not when you make this. You make it when you come home from work or from a show or you’ve got something on your mind and you’re not tired enough to go to sleep yet.* Consider it a gift you give yourself for the morning.

*If you don’t want to make everything in one night, make it a two-step process. Maybe tonight you chop the dates, toast the nuts and seeds, and put all of the above in a bag with the raisins. Tomorrow night you add the flaxseed meal, oats, and rye flakes, stir, put a scoop in a jar with milk of your choice to cover, and presto! When you wake up, breakfast is served.

P. S. This is so much simpler than those problems you’ve been solving all day long. Plus, nobody’s looking over your shoulder. Why not put on some music and make yourself something delicious? 

 ©2018 Laynie Tzena. All Rights Reserved.

What a Little Minneola Can Do: Grace Notes

Part Four:  In Which Zingerman's Makes Its Long-Awaited Appearance

Note:  Once upon a time, there was a post called "What a Little Minneola Can Do."  It was more than one or two sentences in length, and rumor had it* that some people don't like to read.  Thus became "What a Little Minneola Can Do:  A Hymn in Three Parts."  This worked out fine, except for the fact that the section with Zingerman's was left on the cutting-room floor (by accident; nobody ever leaves anything from Zingerman's on purpose).

To find the earlier parts, just look on the right side of the blog, and select, yes, "minneolas."  Enjoy!

We now bring you the rest of the story.

Years ago I was lucky enough to live in Ann Arbor, home of the beloved Fleetwood Diner and Zingerman's.

Don't get me started on Zingerman's. I will just say two things:

1. They used to have a policy where, if you tasted a cheese anywhere in the world, they would get it for you.

2. Ari, the genius who created the place, put on vinegar tastings. Vinegar tastings. So I learned about all kinds of vinegar, and I learned the two-to-one rule (two parts oil, one part acid) I still use [though now people say three parts oil because they are sissies], and a bit of good mustard to bind it. (Dijon is great, but so is stone-ground. Fallot makes a great basil mustard. Creole is wonderful.)

Wait. Did you say 'acid' just now?

Acid. That's the function of the other parent ingredient in a vinaigrette. Once you think of it that way, you realize how many possibilities there are: Lemon juice, lime juice, Meyer lemon juice, orange juice. Just remember if you use Meyer lemon or orange you'll have to find a way to amp up the tartness.

Back to vinegar: Don't cut corners here. Get really good ones--a good cabernet vinegar, like Kimberley, a real balsamic, a good apple cider vinegar, a sherry vinegar. They last a long time.

Ditto with oils. True, their shelf life is shorter than vinegars, but if you buy the ones you love you use them up before they turn. Walnut oil is heaven. So is sesame oil. Peanut oil is good for some things. There are many, many oils on the market. Here's what's in my kitchen: Olive oil, canola oil, safflower oil (when either the canola or safflower runs out, I won't replace it since I use them interchangeably), walnut oil, raw sesame oil, toasted sesame oil, and peanut oil.

What's that you say? You just need olive oil. And it's really good for you.

Yes, olive oil is wonderful. I use it all the time. But do you eat olives with everything? You do? Wow. Well, for those who don't, keep a canola or safflower oil on hand when you want something more unobtrusive.

Which is why those bottled dressings are so odd. What relation do they have to what's going into the salad? That's how you choose the dressing! So make your own. Save money, and really taste your food.

*Good news, writers and readers!  This rumor has since been disproven.  People actually love to read.  Always have and, God willing, always will.

©2017 Laynie Tzena.  All Rights Reserved.

Hidden Treasure

Remember that guy you met, who didn’t make your heart go pitter-patter until you spent some time together, and then suddenly you saw all kinds of qualities in him?

That same experience can happen when you’re cooking.  As we observed with a less-than-glamorous orange way back when (http://cookwithlaynie.blogspot.com/2010/05/what-little-minneola-can-do-hymn-in.html), all is not lost when our fruited friend isn’t what we were expecting. 

To wit:  What do you do when that pear that looked so pretty at the market proves to be a little mealy? 

Pop it in a ramekin (you can slice it first, if you want), pour a little orange flower water over it--

“Orange what?”

Orange flower water.   https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orange_flower_water

--then add some cinnamon, a bit of vanilla, cover the ramekin with foil and heat at 350 degrees for 15-20 minutes.

 Try it with end-of-season peaches, too.  Simply wonderful.  Just like some people we could mention.

©2016 Laynie Tzena.

 

A Few Dates Later

Dear Love at First Bite:

Well, Excuse Me, Ms. Oh-So-Nouveau at Passover Time, but I thought charoses was supposed to remind us of, you know, slavery, building pyramids with bricks (that's what the apples are for--and yes, I know some people use dates.  [Sigh.]) and mortar (that would be the walnuts) and the blood, sweat, and tears that went into doing that work (that's what the wine is for), but what do I know?  I guess out on the West Coast anything goes--but strawberries and blueberry jam?  Really?  Sounds like fruit compote or pie filling to me.

Fan of Tradition

Dear FOT:

Thank you for sharing.  The great thing about charoset, which is how it's often spelled these days, is that you can put in pretty much whatever you want, especially in my kitchen. You do need something to symbolize the bricks (that's what the strawberries were doing) and mortar (that's why the banana was involved) and something to bind them together (that's where the blueberry jam came in), preferably with a little juice to symbolize the blood, sweat and tears you mentioned.  (Saw them years ago at the Fillmore East.  Awesome.)

Should I tell you about the amazing charoset at Rosa Mexicano the other night with coconut?  (Also starring almonds, dates, tangerines, pomegranate seeds, and rose apples.)   Maybe not.

Anyhoo, below is another newbie you might appreciate. 

Citrus, Walnut, and Oh, Those Dates! Charoset:

A couple of soft dates (like Medjool), pits removed
A few firmer dates (like Deglet Noor and dried Yellowtail Medjool), pits removed
3 organic kumquats (sweet rind, tart center)
1 large and three small organic sweet kumquats
A healthy handful of walnuts, chopped
1/4 organic lemon
Ground ginger
Cinnamon

Chop dates and, if you can, mash the Medjool.  Slice the kumquats, rind and all, and remove the seeds, chop into small pieces, reserving the liquid.  Combine everything (yes, that includes the kumquat juice) in a bowl and squeeze the lemon over the mixture.  Grate the lemon zest into the bowl.  Toast the walnuts and add them, then sprinkle the ground ginger and cinnamon over all and mix.  

Enjoy!

Oh, and FOT:  Just between you, me, and the NSA:  Anytime you combine fruit with nuts and some kind of liquid, you are dancing in the neighborhood of fruit compote.  And would this be yummy inside the right pie?  Sure.  But not this week.  So here's a piece of matzo.  Try it.
©2014, 2015 Laynie Tzena. 

Old and New Friends

Make new friends, but keep the old.

One is silver, and the other, gold.

--Author unknown

The lure of the distant and difficult

is deceptive.  The great opportunity

is where you are.

--John Burroughs

Hello, brown bowl.  Brown, shimmery bowl.  You might as well wear a tag saying, "Stoneware."  You've been sitting patiently under the beige bowl with the blue rim and above the blue-and-white one that rarely sees the light of day, even though it, too, is very pretty.

It's true.  I reach for the Pyrex most of the time.  Like to see what I'm doing.  But today, making a brand-new charoset with strawberries in it, I reached for you.

* * *

Isn't it always the way?  We reach for the familiar or try to get that person we think is swell to see, finally see that we are alive.

"Hi!" we say.  "It's me!", all but jumping up and down like puppies.

But one day, for some unknown reason, we wake up and say, "Hey!  What about the brown bowl?  Let's try that."

And it's perfect, and claims its place in our life.

We do, nonetheless, keep our friends.  We just expand the circle a bit.  It's a big world, you know.

Have some charoset.  Put it in a bowl you wouldn't ordinarily use.  It's Passover, after all.  Escape from the narrow places.  Try some new things.

Strawberry-Blueberry-Banana-Pecan Charoset:

Half a dozen organic strawberries
Half a banana, or more, to taste
Handful of organic pecans*
1-2 teaspoons of that Reddington Ridge Farm wild blueberry jam 
your friend brought back from Maine** (Thanks, Helen!)
A couple shakes of cinnamon
Pinch of salt
Squeeze of lemon (optional)

Toast the pecans and chop them.  Slice the fruit or, if you want to make cleanup super-easy, use scissors.  Combine everything but the blueberry jam in that beautiful and so rarely used bowl, then add jam to taste.  Sprinkle with cinnamon.  If you want to make it it a bit less sweet (or just like how lemon brings flavors together), squeeze a quarter of a lemon over the charoset and stir it again.

Enjoy!

*If you use the little pieces of pecan lounging towards the bottom of the bag, you'll be right in line with today's program, as they're not as snazzy-looking as the whole ones.  Plus, you'll have a lot less chopping to do.

**"Do you have any extra jam?"

Yes.  How soon can you get here?

"Is the blueberry jam Kosher for Passover?"

No, it is not.  If you want to leave out the jam, just add some more banana, a couple of dates, or some honey.

©2014, 2015 Laynie Tzena.