When I met the amazing Venice at the farmers' market on Saturday, her proud papa was asking the Green Gulch folks about kale and chard she might like. I volunteered my old friend Dino kale, explaining to Bill that the leaves were like relief maps and to Venice that this particular item was not to be missed as it was both beautiful and scrumptious. I offered a recipe or two, Bill handed me his card and of course*, he works on Macs and PCs (and would later, when I called him, assure me that my other geek friends were right and the Facebook worm was in fact gone from my computer and no, it was not lurking in some random folder waiting for a second chance). We said our goodbyes, Venice came back to say she was now five, and we sang happy birthday.
Turns out Venice likes kale. Smart girl. When I asked that day what her favorite vegetables were, I learned that the green bean was a popular dinner companion at their house. So I offered a great kale and green bean recipe I'd found online, but as it happens Venice prefers to commune with one vegetable at a time.
Papa Bill eats lots of things, but lamb is not one of them. Meanwhile, Chris at the bank liked the idea of the black bean salad, except for the black beans. No reason you couldn't substitute strips of beef, I told him. Later I realized we could turn that around for le pere de Venice (that's Bill), and substitute beans for the lamb in the tagine we were just talking about (see "Identical Cousins," Part Two). I might have to try that myself, seeing as I have a half-can left of those mystery beans.
*Why "of course"? Because you can find everything at the farmers' market. But you already knew that.
©2010-2014 Laynie Tzena.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
International Relations
On the way to make black bean salad at my friend Pam's the other night, I asked if she had any chiles. Nope. And I had forgotten to bring some. So, since the black bean salad we'd had in mind was of the cilantro-jalapeno variety, the question became how to get the heat the chile would normally provide into the salad. I decided to use a healthy pinch of paprika (same family) and some extra black pepper (extended family). And we'd already decided to have soy chorizo with the salad, so that would add some firepower.
Tasting long beans at the Civic Center farmers' market last week, I thought their great, slightly chewy texture would make them a good substitute for corn in a black bean salad. So I brought those along to see. (Pam had corn in the house, so we used that, too.) Also in the bag: purslane, a lemon, a lime, an orange, a red bell pepper, a couple of scallions and a torpedo onion. Oh, and a can of Whole Foods' organic black beans.
Lucky me: Pam turned out to be the Herb and Spice Queen, with an impressive array of dried varieties on hand--a real break since neither of us had fresh cilantro.
She made a strawberry smoothie, which fueled us while she whipped up some yummy mashed potatoes and I got to work on the salad. Here's what greeted us at the finish line.
Long Black Bean Salad:
For the salad:
1/2 can black beans
1 ear of corn or equivalent amount cooked corn
1/2 bunch long beans
1/2 red bell pepper
3-4 stalks (with leaves) purslane
1 scallion, minced, including the greens
1 small clove garlic
For the dressing:
2 tablespoons plus one teaspoon olive oil
1 tablespoon plus one teaspoon lemon juice and lime juice, combined*
Zest of 1/2 lemon
Zest of 1/2 lime
Smidgen Dijon mustard
Healthy pinch dried cilantro
Healthy pinch crushed dried coriander
Healthy pinch paprika
Freshly-ground black pepper
Pinch of salt
Drain beans. (You could reserve the liquid for soup.) If you're starting with fresh corn, shuck, rinse, and cook, then shave kernels off the cob. Steam long beans, then chop into one-inch pieces. Chop purslane and dice red pepper. Mince onion and garlic. Whisk oil, lemon and lime juice, mustard, zests, herbs, and spices together. Add black beans and toss. Add remaining ingredients, toss again, and taste. (I added another squeeze of lime here.)
Pam had mentioned having spinach on hand. So we decided two salads were better than one.
Spinach Meets Orange:
For the salad:
1/2 package baby spinach
1 small head radicchio di Treviso
A few leaves of ancho cress
1/2 orange
1/2 torpedo onion or small amount other red onion
For the dressing:
2 tablespoons plus one teaspoon olive oil
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
1 teaspoon fresh orange juice
Healthy pinch orange zest
Smidgen Dijon mustard
Healthy pinch dried mint
Healthy pinch dried basil
Freshly-ground black pepper
Pinch of salt
Rinse, dry, and loosely tear greens. Slice half-orange; remove white pith and seeds; separate into segments. Whisk together oil, vinegar, orange juice, mustard, herbs, and spices. Add spinach and other greens with onion, toss; then add orange segments, toss again, and serve.
Remembering that long black bean salad later, I decided to recreate it. But this time I had a serrano chile along for the ride. I've been roasting them over a gas flame lately. So I did that. And the cilantro? Out of stock. And no dried cilantro flakes, either. So into the mortar and pestle went dried whole coriander, accompanied by some cumin seeds. I used stone-ground mustard this time around for an earthier feeling, and lemon since I was out of limes.
One more thing: Don't use Progresso black beans. Or, at least, not here: When I opened the can I found the wrong baby in the crib. Were they black beans? Some other variety, I suppose. Certainly not what I usually think of, which I suppose is Mexican black beans. But I made the salad anyway, and it tasted just fine. I had a corn tortilla and a bit of yogurt on the side--and a solution to Lamb Tagine au Pere de Venice. Stay tuned.
*Why lemon and lime juice combined? Because I just had one lime on hand.
©2010 Laynie Tzena.
Tasting long beans at the Civic Center farmers' market last week, I thought their great, slightly chewy texture would make them a good substitute for corn in a black bean salad. So I brought those along to see. (Pam had corn in the house, so we used that, too.) Also in the bag: purslane, a lemon, a lime, an orange, a red bell pepper, a couple of scallions and a torpedo onion. Oh, and a can of Whole Foods' organic black beans.
Lucky me: Pam turned out to be the Herb and Spice Queen, with an impressive array of dried varieties on hand--a real break since neither of us had fresh cilantro.
She made a strawberry smoothie, which fueled us while she whipped up some yummy mashed potatoes and I got to work on the salad. Here's what greeted us at the finish line.
Long Black Bean Salad:
For the salad:
1/2 can black beans
1 ear of corn or equivalent amount cooked corn
1/2 bunch long beans
1/2 red bell pepper
3-4 stalks (with leaves) purslane
1 scallion, minced, including the greens
1 small clove garlic
For the dressing:
2 tablespoons plus one teaspoon olive oil
1 tablespoon plus one teaspoon lemon juice and lime juice, combined*
Zest of 1/2 lemon
Zest of 1/2 lime
Smidgen Dijon mustard
Healthy pinch dried cilantro
Healthy pinch crushed dried coriander
Healthy pinch paprika
Freshly-ground black pepper
Pinch of salt
Drain beans. (You could reserve the liquid for soup.) If you're starting with fresh corn, shuck, rinse, and cook, then shave kernels off the cob. Steam long beans, then chop into one-inch pieces. Chop purslane and dice red pepper. Mince onion and garlic. Whisk oil, lemon and lime juice, mustard, zests, herbs, and spices together. Add black beans and toss. Add remaining ingredients, toss again, and taste. (I added another squeeze of lime here.)
Pam had mentioned having spinach on hand. So we decided two salads were better than one.
Spinach Meets Orange:
For the salad:
1/2 package baby spinach
1 small head radicchio di Treviso
A few leaves of ancho cress
1/2 orange
1/2 torpedo onion or small amount other red onion
For the dressing:
2 tablespoons plus one teaspoon olive oil
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
1 teaspoon fresh orange juice
Healthy pinch orange zest
Smidgen Dijon mustard
Healthy pinch dried mint
Healthy pinch dried basil
Freshly-ground black pepper
Pinch of salt
Rinse, dry, and loosely tear greens. Slice half-orange; remove white pith and seeds; separate into segments. Whisk together oil, vinegar, orange juice, mustard, herbs, and spices. Add spinach and other greens with onion, toss; then add orange segments, toss again, and serve.
Remembering that long black bean salad later, I decided to recreate it. But this time I had a serrano chile along for the ride. I've been roasting them over a gas flame lately. So I did that. And the cilantro? Out of stock. And no dried cilantro flakes, either. So into the mortar and pestle went dried whole coriander, accompanied by some cumin seeds. I used stone-ground mustard this time around for an earthier feeling, and lemon since I was out of limes.
One more thing: Don't use Progresso black beans. Or, at least, not here: When I opened the can I found the wrong baby in the crib. Were they black beans? Some other variety, I suppose. Certainly not what I usually think of, which I suppose is Mexican black beans. But I made the salad anyway, and it tasted just fine. I had a corn tortilla and a bit of yogurt on the side--and a solution to Lamb Tagine au Pere de Venice. Stay tuned.
*Why lemon and lime juice combined? Because I just had one lime on hand.
©2010 Laynie Tzena.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Identical Cousins, or That Reminds Me (Part Two)
Part Two: Don't I Know You From Somewhere?
When I tasted Vesta Flatbread's melt-in-your-mouth lamb sandwich the other night at Porchlight's "Kitchen Confidential" (where I also got to meet one of my heroes, Nikki Silva of the Kitchen Sisters), I immediately thought of my favorite lamb tagine.
Lamb Tagine with Fennel:
(from Hilaire Walden's North African Cooking)
2-1/2 lb. lean shoulder of lamb, cut into 1-1/2 inch cubes
1 onion, grated
2 garlic cloves, crushed
2 tablespoons chopped cilantro
Pinch crushed saffron threads
3/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon freshly-ground black pepper
1 cup water
3 fennel bulbs, thickly sliced
2 tablespoons lemon juice
Salt
1 preserved lemon in salt, quartered, rinsed*
1/2 cup kalamata olives
Mix the lamb, onion, garlic, cilantro, and spices together in a heavy, flameproof casserole. Pour the water over the lamb and herbs, bring to a simmer, then cover and cook gently for about 1-1/4 hours until the lamb is almost tender.
Add the fennel, lemon juice, and salt, cover and cook for another 20 minutes or so, until the lamb and fennel are tender. Transfer the lamb and fennel to a warm serving dish. Scatter the preserved lemon and olives over the lamb, cover and keep warm.
If necessary, boil the cooking juice to reduce and thicken it, then pour it over the lamb and fennel and serve.
And go straight to heaven. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200.
Well, it turns out the reason the sandwich put me in mind of the tagine was that it contained lamb, fennel, and kalamata olives.
And speaking of olives: When I saw Dirty Girl's gorgeous radicchio family the other day I realized the Hickory Dickory Chicory salad** had a cousin.
Hickory Dickory Chicory Goes Green:
For the salad:
1 head radicchio di Traviso (the long maroon and green one)
1/2 to 3/4 lb. Castelvetrano olives
For the dressing:
2 tablespoons Spanish or Portuguese olive oil
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
Healthy handful grated lemon zest
Small handful chopped lemon basil (optional)
Smidgen of Dijon mustard
Healthy pinch of freshly-ground black pepper
Even tinier pinch of salt than last time
Cut off the very bottom of the treviso, and pull the leaves off the base. Rinse and pat dry, then pile the leaves one on top of the other and slice into strips. Slice strips in half and set aside.
Slice the olives into half-moons.
Whisk the oil, lemon juice and zest, lemon basil, mustard, and pepper together, and taste the dressing. Now add the treviso and toss; add the olives, toss again, and taste, adding salt if necessary. Toss again and serve.
You could also top this with toasted sunflower seeds, for a slightly more distant relative of the "Hickory Dickory Chicory."
*Walden says to discard the preserved lemon flesh, if you want. I include it in the dish--the more preserved lemon, the better, if you ask me.
**See "Identical Cousins, or That Reminds Me, Part One: How Sweet It Is," http://cookwithlaynie.blogspot.com/2010/06/identical-cousins-or-that-reminds-me-in.html
©2010, 2013, 2014, 2015 Laynie Tzena.
When I tasted Vesta Flatbread's melt-in-your-mouth lamb sandwich the other night at Porchlight's "Kitchen Confidential" (where I also got to meet one of my heroes, Nikki Silva of the Kitchen Sisters), I immediately thought of my favorite lamb tagine.
Lamb Tagine with Fennel:
(from Hilaire Walden's North African Cooking)
2-1/2 lb. lean shoulder of lamb, cut into 1-1/2 inch cubes
1 onion, grated
2 garlic cloves, crushed
2 tablespoons chopped cilantro
Pinch crushed saffron threads
3/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon freshly-ground black pepper
1 cup water
3 fennel bulbs, thickly sliced
2 tablespoons lemon juice
Salt
1 preserved lemon in salt, quartered, rinsed*
1/2 cup kalamata olives
Mix the lamb, onion, garlic, cilantro, and spices together in a heavy, flameproof casserole. Pour the water over the lamb and herbs, bring to a simmer, then cover and cook gently for about 1-1/4 hours until the lamb is almost tender.
Add the fennel, lemon juice, and salt, cover and cook for another 20 minutes or so, until the lamb and fennel are tender. Transfer the lamb and fennel to a warm serving dish. Scatter the preserved lemon and olives over the lamb, cover and keep warm.
If necessary, boil the cooking juice to reduce and thicken it, then pour it over the lamb and fennel and serve.
And go straight to heaven. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200.
Well, it turns out the reason the sandwich put me in mind of the tagine was that it contained lamb, fennel, and kalamata olives.
And speaking of olives: When I saw Dirty Girl's gorgeous radicchio family the other day I realized the Hickory Dickory Chicory salad** had a cousin.
Hickory Dickory Chicory Goes Green:
For the salad:
1 head radicchio di Traviso (the long maroon and green one)
1/2 to 3/4 lb. Castelvetrano olives
For the dressing:
2 tablespoons Spanish or Portuguese olive oil
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
Healthy handful grated lemon zest
Small handful chopped lemon basil (optional)
Smidgen of Dijon mustard
Healthy pinch of freshly-ground black pepper
Even tinier pinch of salt than last time
Cut off the very bottom of the treviso, and pull the leaves off the base. Rinse and pat dry, then pile the leaves one on top of the other and slice into strips. Slice strips in half and set aside.
Slice the olives into half-moons.
Whisk the oil, lemon juice and zest, lemon basil, mustard, and pepper together, and taste the dressing. Now add the treviso and toss; add the olives, toss again, and taste, adding salt if necessary. Toss again and serve.
You could also top this with toasted sunflower seeds, for a slightly more distant relative of the "Hickory Dickory Chicory."
*Walden says to discard the preserved lemon flesh, if you want. I include it in the dish--the more preserved lemon, the better, if you ask me.
**See "Identical Cousins, or That Reminds Me, Part One: How Sweet It Is," http://cookwithlaynie.blogspot.com/2010/06/identical-cousins-or-that-reminds-me-in.html
©2010, 2013, 2014, 2015 Laynie Tzena.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Identical Cousins, or That Reminds Me
Part One: How Sweet It Is
Like most of the human race, I tend to think my noodle works pretty well. So how was it that I didn't bat an eye at Patty Duke's identical cousin? Was it just the power of that jingle?
Perhaps I accepted the notion of identical cousins so readily because I had a pretty magical childhood, in general. Far from perfect, but certainly magical. When I wasn't strolling on the roof or building houses in the eaves, I would climb down from the attic and right over there, inside that box, Jeannie would demonstrate how to travel by blinking, and Samantha worked wonders with her nose. Not to mention the Batman, Superman, the Green Hornet, Casper the Friendly Ghost, and My Favorite Martian. Identical cousins? Come on down!
Recently we had some hot days here in San Francisco, and one of them found me at the farmers' market. I asked if I could put my bag down for a minute so I could get my hair out of my face.
The fellow said fine. Then he said, "Do you want these cherries?"
"Sure," I said.
Soon I was home with two pounds of Bella Viva cherries, and two potlucks on the horizon. I started thinking about what a beautiful color those cherries were, and that got me thinking about other food in that color family, and next thing you know . . .
Hickory Dickory Chicory:
For the salad:
1 head radicchio di Chioggia (the roundish red one)
1/2 to 3/4 lb. bing or other fresh red cherries
For the dressing:
1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon extra virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon toasted walnut oil (my favorites are La Tourangelle and Glashoff)
1 tablespoon port vinegar (I love O vinegar for this; if you can't find that, sherry vinegar is fine)
Smidgen of Dijon mustard
Healthy pinch of freshly-ground black pepper
Tiny pinch of salt
Cut off the very bottom of the radicchio, and pull the leaves off the base. Rinse and pat dry, then pile the leaves one on top of the other and slice into strips. Slice strips in half and set aside.
Rinse the cherries. If you have a cherry-pitter, this would be a good time to use it. If not, you're in luck anyway, because as you slice the cherries into half-moons you have those wonderful bits of cherry that stick to the pit for a nosh. If you used the smaller amount of cherries, slice them in half again.
Whisk the oils, vinegar, mustard, and pepper together, and taste the dressing. Add salt as needed. Now add the radicchio and toss; add the cherries, toss again, and serve.
Next time: Going Green
©2010, 2011. 2015, 2016 Laynie Tzena.
Like most of the human race, I tend to think my noodle works pretty well. So how was it that I didn't bat an eye at Patty Duke's identical cousin? Was it just the power of that jingle?
Perhaps I accepted the notion of identical cousins so readily because I had a pretty magical childhood, in general. Far from perfect, but certainly magical. When I wasn't strolling on the roof or building houses in the eaves, I would climb down from the attic and right over there, inside that box, Jeannie would demonstrate how to travel by blinking, and Samantha worked wonders with her nose. Not to mention the Batman, Superman, the Green Hornet, Casper the Friendly Ghost, and My Favorite Martian. Identical cousins? Come on down!
Recently we had some hot days here in San Francisco, and one of them found me at the farmers' market. I asked if I could put my bag down for a minute so I could get my hair out of my face.
The fellow said fine. Then he said, "Do you want these cherries?"
"Sure," I said.
Soon I was home with two pounds of Bella Viva cherries, and two potlucks on the horizon. I started thinking about what a beautiful color those cherries were, and that got me thinking about other food in that color family, and next thing you know . . .
Hickory Dickory Chicory:
For the salad:
1 head radicchio di Chioggia (the roundish red one)
1/2 to 3/4 lb. bing or other fresh red cherries
For the dressing:
1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon extra virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon toasted walnut oil (my favorites are La Tourangelle and Glashoff)
1 tablespoon port vinegar (I love O vinegar for this; if you can't find that, sherry vinegar is fine)
Smidgen of Dijon mustard
Healthy pinch of freshly-ground black pepper
Tiny pinch of salt
Cut off the very bottom of the radicchio, and pull the leaves off the base. Rinse and pat dry, then pile the leaves one on top of the other and slice into strips. Slice strips in half and set aside.
Rinse the cherries. If you have a cherry-pitter, this would be a good time to use it. If not, you're in luck anyway, because as you slice the cherries into half-moons you have those wonderful bits of cherry that stick to the pit for a nosh. If you used the smaller amount of cherries, slice them in half again.
Whisk the oils, vinegar, mustard, and pepper together, and taste the dressing. Add salt as needed. Now add the radicchio and toss; add the cherries, toss again, and serve.
Next time: Going Green
©2010, 2011. 2015, 2016 Laynie Tzena.
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