Sep 25 2011

Autumn in New York

Published by Christine under Soups

Today, the September sun is turning everything to gold. It’s the kind of day that’s perfect for apple picking, or for lazing in the last of the warm days of the year. I was just outside, and I found some pretty things around my house:

Over the mountain and through the woods

Leaves

September light

We are getting together with a few friends this afternoon, in anticipation of a few birthdays (including yours truly’s) and anniversaries to be celebrated this week. The get-together is pot-luck, and I was lucky enough to get to chose which part of the meal I wanted to make. That’s always an easy answer for me: let there be soup.

Soup is, of course, the best food there is: you can have it cold in the summer, or hot when it’s chilly out. It can be as light as a simple broth, or almost stew-like. In the winter, I often make soups rich with beans and a multitude of vegetables, the kind of concoction that only needs some fresh bread, and maybe a salad, to call itself a meal. It takes nothing to cook, makes the house smell wonderful, tastes like heaven, and leaves you feeling like all is well in the world, at least for a little while. Soup for President, I say.

It’s autumn in New York, and I instinctively turn to making soups that look and feel seasonal, warmly orange and golden, with a touch of cinnamon and ginger. My favorite at this time of year?

Isn't it the most beautiful color?

The hardest part of making this soup is cutting the squash in half. It can be a little hard to cut it evenly, but if you place it on a dish cloth first to stabilize it, and use a sharp knife, you can manage it quite well. After that, it’s only a matter of roasting it in the oven, and adding it to some onions, carrots and celery that have been sautéed in a little bit of olive oil. Some spices and stock, a blender, and you’re done. Bliss.

I now leave you with Lady Day, and my favorite song of hers, which truly captures the essence of a time and place with nothing but magic:

 

 

Curried Butternut Squash Soup

 

1 medium to large butternut squash
3 carrots
2 celery stalks
2 small or 1 large yellow onion
2 Tbsp olive oil + some for drizzling
5 cups water or stock
1.5 tsp curry powder
1 tsp ginger powder
1/2 tsp cinammon
salt and pepper to taste
heavy cream (optional)

Halve squash. With a spoon, remove seeds. Place in a baking dish and drizzle with olive oil. Bake at 375 until soft (approx. 30 to 40 min). Scoop flesh out and set aside.

Still Life with Squash

Chop carrots, onions and celery.

Don't bother chopping the veggies too small; they'll all get puréed in the end.

Saute onions in olive oil until they begin to color, then add carrots and celery, and let cook until the mix is golden. Add spices and mix well. Let the spices become fragrant (about 30 seconds or so), then add water or stock, and squash. Cover and bring to a boil, then turn the heat down and let the soup simmer. In about 30 min., your soup will be done. Let it cool for a while before processing with an immersion blender (or in a standing blender, whichever you prefer). Add a little salt and pepper if needed.

Serve warm or hot in bowls or cups, with a little bit of heavy cream drizzled on top (optional). Sit back and enjoy.

It might look like it's Rorschach time, but it's happy soup time.

 

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Jul 16 2011

Halibut Is Not In Season

Published by Christine under Uncategorized

Originally published on March 11, 2011.

 

Sam had just solved his millionth case in a month, or so it seemed, and he was itching for some serious R&R. That last encounter with the local chief of police had left him unnerved, and he wished he could take back some of the things he’d said and done under pressure. On second thought, calling the old man Shirley Temple and offering him a lollipop for his nerves might not have been the most diplomatic way to express his disagreement, but he had not been in the mood to be sugar and spice, and the chief was just an old bugger. Sleeping Beauty would have been a better moniker anyway, since the old man was obviously living life on this side of narcolepsy. “So much for making friends and influencing people,” he thought.

He had been heading downtown in the early evening traffic when it occurred to him his stomach was crying for help and was threatening a total body shutdown unless it got food right away. As he pulled over and parked by the 1st Avenue Ketchups R Us, he reflected on the fact that he probably had to change his eating habits. He had spent the last three days in the sole company of his anorexic friends Jack Daniels and Joe Camel, and they seemed hell-bent on having him check out of his low-rent life early.

He walked into the diner and sat at the counter where the waitress, a chubby red-head in her late 40s, greeted him with a “Long time no see, Mr. Spade!” so high-pitched that the lights went out for a brief moment. He made a mental note of never coming back, as he had done at least thirty times before, but the lemon pie always won out in the end. He silently cursed his taste buds for their low standards and proceeded to order, when he noticed a pair of shapely legs on the other side of the room. His eyes followed the legs upwards to a well-shaped backside and killer-bee waistline. He was almost afraid to keep going up, and rightfully so. The dark hair and green eyes that completed the package said two things: hot and hotter. The owner of those legs was the kind of dame that could make a dead man talk, and she knew it. Sam placed his order, and sat next to the legs.

“Nice shoes,” he said.

“Nice hat,” she replied.

He probably would have felt better about himself if he’d actually worn a hat, but he wasn’t the kind of guy who would let himself be stopped that easily.

“How’s the grub today?” he asked.

“Same as yesterday,” she answered, this time a little more kindly. “Not too many ways to mess up fat and salt, are there?”

“Not when they end up in your mouth,” he croaked, knowing that kind of half-baked line would probably send him and his dignity back to the other side of the room in a jiffy. She gave him the kind of look she might have saved for a three-legged dog, a mix of pity and disgust, but she didn’t send him packing. They talked for a while, about the food in that joint (“I love me some grease”), about his exceptional ability to cook (a lie), about the general need for fewer squirrels (“bastard nut-eaters”), and about the superiority of Superman over Batman (“Ratman with wings, if you ask me”). He learned she loved kiwis, hot peppers and Rhode Island, and he told her of his penchant for rabbit in wine sauce, “without the rabbit,” and leggy women.

“And with all this, you haven’t told me yet what it is that you do for a living,” he continued.

“I’m an ichthyologist,” she told him.

“Well, I’ve got an itch you can scratch,” he replied.

She was not amused. Still, the evening ended with his extracting a promise from her that she would come to his place the following evening, enticed as she was by the promise of a gourmet meal.

When he got home, Sam poured himself another drink. His mind was reeling from the evening’s encounter, and as he drank he wondered two things: “How on earth am I supposed to get food on the table for this babe?” and “What the hell is an ichthyologist?” Within five minutes, he managed to satisfy his curiosity about the second question and felt significantly more cretinous than usual, until he poured himself another glass, after which he did not care. At the very least, he knew he would be cooking fish the next day, “for the fishologist,” as he called her in his bourbon-induced haze.

A quick phone call the next morning to his ex-partner Walter, now the proud owner of a fashionable downtown restaurant, helped him decide on just the right thing: dinner would be halibut (and nothing but) with a kiwi salsa, and dessert would involve hot legs and absolutely no squirrels. Life was good.

Later that day, as he dejectedly walked home from yet another failed trip to the store, knowing that the green-eyed brunette would now undoubtedly join the list of other killer dames he had not been able to hold on to, all he could think of were the words he’d heard all day from those lousy fishmongers, words he instantly knew had sounded the death knell of leggy desserts: “Halibut is not in season.”

 

My answer to the guy at the store who said that to me yesterday was: “I’ll have the cod then, please.”

 

Halibut (or not) with Kiwi Salsa

 

I hope that silly story made you at least smile. If not, I really need to find another hobby. In all seriousness, I hope you try this recipe. The tartness of the kiwis and the heat of the jalapeño complement the fish exceedingly well, and the whole dish is basically fat-free. Enjoy!

 

1.5 lb halibut or cod loin
2/3 cup white wine or dry vermouth
1 cup water
sea salt and pepper
3 ripe kiwis
1 small jalapeño pepper, seeded and finely diced
2 Tbsp chopped fresh cilantro
juice of 1 Meyer lemon (or 2 limes)

First, pour yourself a glass of wine. Mr. Spade would approve.

Poach the fish: place in an oven safe dish with the wine (or vermouth) and water. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Cover loosely with foil and bake in a 400° oven until done (it will flake easily), about 15 to 20 mn.

Peel and dice kiwis finely, and mix with cilantro, jalapeño and lemon juice.

 

Those were definitely in season. I only used half of that jalapeño.

 

Serve with roasted tomatoes or a green salad. Some red quinoa or whole grain couscous would be great too. Serves 4.

 

As pretty as it is delicious

 

Fish and fruit are just wonderful together.

 

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Jul 09 2011

A Taste of Summer

Published by Christine under Uncategorized

Originally published on March 23, 2011.

The winter is certainly dragging on, and I for one have had just about enough. Yet there’s hope in the air, and the temperatures are slowly but surely going up, and with them, the promise of better days ahead. If only it would hurry up already (thank you).

With our new kitchen all but finished, I was itching to get some real cooking done, and so we had our friends Mary and Sean over for dinner recently. Sitting at our new kitchen island, sipping bubbly while eating tiny madeleines made with blue cheese, pear and walnuts, life felt pretty darn good, even if it was raining outside. And to celebrate the new kitchen, and the warmer days to come, I had decided on the following menu:

Curried kale and potato soup (because it’s still chilly out)
Gratin of tomato, caramelized onions and squash (because warmer days are around the corner)
Fried chicken and corn bread (because I wanted to)

The soup was a real success, my own twist on a classic recipe – I will share it with you in another post. Today, I want to spend a little time talking about the gratin, which is sure to turn the most picky eaters out there into hard-core veggie lovers. The vegetables are first sliced and salted (to render water), which allows them to cook without boiling in their juices, thus revealing their sweetness and texture.

The preparation time for the gratin might seem a bit long, but really, much of it is spent waiting for the tomatoes and squash to get ready. It will take a couple of hours, but you’re free to leave them alone and go do something else while you wait (you have my permission). Caramelizing the onions is also a bit time consuming, but most of it does not require you to be glued to the stove, which I don’t recommend doing in any event. The whole thing is flavored with thyme and garlic, and topped with a mixture of panko and parmesan. As it cooks, it fills the house with sweet and savory smells, and gets you really hungry. It’s probably my favorite gratin, one that I look forward to making more and more often as summer approaches.

Cold weather, your days are numbered.

 

Gratin de tomates, courgettes et onions

 

5 large plum tomatoes
2 medium zucchinis or summer squash (or one of each)
4 medium onions
fresh thyme
2 cloves garlic
extra virgin olive oil
sea salt
freshly ground black pepper
1/2 cup panko (japanese-style bread crumbs)
1/4 cup grated parmesan

Slice tomatoes and lay them on several sheets of paper towels (on top of a baking sheet works pretty well). Sprinkle salt on them and let them render water for a couple of hours. Slice squash, place in a colander over a plate, lightly salt and let them render water as well.

Summer in a bowl

Peel and slice onions lengthwise. Saute them briefly in a bit of olive oil (with some salt, pepper,and a few sprigs of thyme) on medium heat until they start to color, then turn the heat down and let them caramelize for about 35 to 40 min. Set aside.

They make the house smell so good!

Chop 1 Tbsp fresh thyme leaves and 2 cloves garlic and mix with 4 Tbsp olive oil. Set aside.

Place squash slices on paper towels and pat them dry. Put them at the bottom of a 9 x 13 baking dish and drizzle half of the olive oil/thyme/garlic mixture on top. Spread the caramelized onions on top. Pat tomato slices dry and cover the onion layer with those, drizzling the second half of the olive oil mix on top.

Arrange the vegetables in layers.

Ready for a trip to 350 Fahrenheit.

Place the dish in a preheated 350 oven and bake about 40 min, until tomatoes are looking a bit dry and starting to brown.

Mix panko with parmesan and 1 or 2 Tbsp olive oil. Sprinkle over the tomatoes and return the dish to the oven for another 10 to 15 min. or until the topping is golden brown.

I'm ready for my close up, Mr. DeMille.

Hungry yet?

 

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