To the Dwindling Season

            The view of the sunflowers in late summer, their heads starting to droop with the weight of themselves, fills my heart with a little bit of ache. The sudden appearance of delicata squashes at the farm stand  – foretelling of colder times – had a similar effect last week. Both ignite an urgency to use as many summer vegetables as I can get my hands on. This ratatouille is an homage to the dwindling season and a testament to what a little bit of non-fussed over time can do.

 

Late Summer Ratatouille

From Cook’s Illustrated

 

            The staggered addition of the ingredients substitutes the need for pre-salting, like many ratatouille recipes call for. Make sure to have some crusty bread, toasted and rubbed with a raw garlic clove and drizzled with olive oil and salt, to serve along side.

 

            * Summer tomatoes are best but skin needs to be removed – cut an X in the bottom of the tomato and submerge in boiling water until the skin begins to peel, usually about 45 seconds. Remove from heat, let cool and peel completely.  If it’s not summer, a 32oz can of San Marzano tomatoes is  a fine substitution.

 

Ingredients

 

½ c plus 1 T olive oil

2 large white onions, halved and diced

8 cloves garlic, smashed and minced

 

salt and pepper

 

½ t herbes de Provence

¼ t red pepper flakes

1 bay leaf

2 medium eggplants, cut into 1” pieces

 

4 large tomatoes (about 2 lb), skins and core removed, and roughly chopped *

 

2 medium zucchini or summer squash, cut into 1” pieces

1 red, orange or yellow pepper, seeded and cut into 1 “ pieces

 

2 T fresh basil, chopped

1 T sherry vinegar

 

Process

 

            Preheat oven to 400F.

 

            In a large Dutch oven or deep cast iron skillet, heat ½ c olive oil over medium high heat. Add onions, garlic, 1 t salt and a few grinds of black pepper. Sauté for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally.

 

            Add herbs de Provence, pepper flakes, bay leaf, eggplant and peeled, cored tomatoes. Sprinkle with ½ t salt and stir to combine before transferring the dish to the oven. Bake, uncovered, for 45 minutes.

 

            Remove pot from oven and mash the eggplant mixture with a potato masher or the back of a wooden spoon until the mixture has a sauce-like consistency. Stir in zucchini, bell pepper, ¼ t salt and a few more cranks from the pepper mill. Return the dish to the oven and bake, covered this time, for another 45 minutes, or until the zucchini is tender and translucent.

 

            Remove pot from oven and let stand for 15 minutes. Discard bay leaf. Stir in vinegar and 1 T olive oil. Garnish with chopped basil.

 

            Serve with grilled garlic rubbed bread and lentils or a poached egg (or both!).

 

Yields: a side dish for 8

Prep time: 20 minutes

Cook time: about an hour and a half, mostly unattended

To Seize In a Firm Embrace

      Five moves, four jobs, three states, a marriage and a pandemic since my last post. My writing is sure to be rusty, given the whirlwind and that the only words I type on a daily basis are to physicians with the objective of being as concise as possible. The healthcare setting is not a place where creativity thrives but it is a place, especially now, that has helped me savor my life in ways that have surprised me. There are the obvious things: my beautiful family, my resilient body, my memory foam pillow, my stubborn wellspring of joy. But who would have guessed, for instance, that I would find such peace in watching the snow fall? Or pleasure in eating meatballs? Or delight in re-watching a 1980s romantic comedy starring Cher with two best friends over the telephone? 

    " 'Moonstruck' is a film that never winks at its audience; it seizes them in a firm embrace, kisses them on both cheeks and forces them to sit down and eat something" C. Weaver writes in a recent homage to the movie and the actors that bring the film so lovingly to life -- very much like what Amy did for me on Christmas day, after a very long and poignant shift at the hospital, with a bona-fide Italian meal and a masterpiece of a meatball front and center.

Amy's Meatballs and Tomato Sauce

adapted from Chris Boswell

      This almost-equal ratio of stale bread to meat might seem heavy handed at first but it yields the fluffiest, loveliest meatball and bodes well for the frugal cook. Meatballs (or polpettes) are usually served on their own but feel free to serve alongside a small portion of pasta, focaccia or red wine braised lentils. We like them with a simple arugula salad with vinaigrette using the garlic oil (1 ½ T sherry or wine vinegar, 2 T garlic confit oil, 2 t honey, ½ t sea salt, and several cranks from the pepper mill).

Ingredients

For the sauce

1 T olive oil

1 yellow onion, diced

3 cloves garlic, minced

48oz San Marzano peeled whole tomatoes (one and a half large cans)

1 c fresh basil

2 T additional olive oil

1 ½ t chili flakes

1 ½ t sea salt (more to taste)

½ t black pepper (more to taste)

For the garlic confit

1 c olive oil

1 head garlic, skins removed

1 t chili flakes

bay leaf, optional

For the meatballs

10 oz several day old rustic country bread with hard crusts removed

2 c whole milk

1 lb ground beef

1 ½ t sea salt (more to taste)

¾ t freshly ground black pepper

1 t chili flakes

1 t dried oregano

6 garlic confit cloves, chopped (see following recipe)

¾ c Grana Padano

1 egg

Process

For the sauce

Add 1 T olive oil to heavy bottomed deep sauce pot. Caramelize diced onion over medium/low heat for about 30 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add minced garlic in final 3 minutes. Remove from heat.

In a blender, add the tomatoes, fresh basil, 2 T olive oil and caramelized onions/garlic mixture. Blend until smooth and pour back into sauce pot. Let simmer on low heat while you work on the other steps.

For the garlic confit

Add all ingredients in a small sauce pot so that the garlic is covered by the olive oil. Bring to a slow simmer over low heat – just enough so that the cloves are slightly bubbling. Maintain this level of activity for about 45 minutes or until cloves are golden brown.

Discard bay leaf and store in sealed container once cool. Oil is good for pastas and salad dressings. The garlic is good in everything.

For the meatballs

Soak the bread in a large bowl so that the bread is fully submerged. Let rest for 45 minutes.

In another large bowl, mix together meat, salt, pepper, chili flakes, oregano, garlic, Grana Padano and egg. Mix thoroughly with your hands. Set aside until bread is done soaking.

Squeeze as much of the milk out of the bread as possible and discard the liquid. Add the soaked bread by crumbling it into the meat mixture. Mix with your hands until bread is evenly distributed and knead a few times before forming into golf ball sized balls.

In a cast iron skillet over medium/high heat, brown the meatballs on all sides in a little bit of olive oil. Add to the very gently simmering sauce and simmer for 30 minutes to an hour before serving.

Yields: about 18 meatballs

Prep time: about an hour

Cook time: about an hour and a half, somewhat unattended

Writing by Adria | Photography by Amy

Satiating What We Long For

   

      People ask me: Why do you write about food, and eating and drinking? Why don't you write about the struggle for power, and about security and about love, the way others do?

      The easiest answer is to say that, like most other humans, I am hungry. But there is more than that. It seems to me that our three basic needs, for food and security and love, are so mixed and mingled and entwined that we cannot straightly think of one without the others. So it happens that when I write of hunger, I am really writing about love and the hunger for it, and warmth and the love of it and the hunger for it -- and then the warmth and richness and fine reality of hunger satisfied -- it is all one.

      I tell about myself...and it happens without my willing it that I am telling too about the people with me and their other deeper needs for love and happiness.

      There is a communion of more than our bodies when bread is broken and wine drunk. And that is my answer, when people ask me: Why do you write about hunger, and not wars or love?

                                                                                                                                          --  MFK Fisher

      Nearly a registered nurse, having been trained and educated in a city that faces the consequences of a long lost economy and the impossibly evil clutch of substance use, offering my faithfully-returned readers a recipe for muffins seems like a feeble act. What I've learned in the hospital rooms of Baltimore and from its people who defy injustice by their resilience should not surprise me, considering my faith: that after the vital signs have been taken, the medicine administered, the pain acknowledged, the surgery performed, the dressings changed  -- people love and can and will talk about food.

      Remarkably, for all of the mysteries of our minds and bodies that we may not understand, we do know what our palates yearn for. To bake a muffin that provides the anticipated sweet without being excessive, the surprising tart clench from buttermilk and the robust chew of whole grain is to have something honest and unpretentious to offer, satiating what we long for.

Millet Muffins with Buttermilk and Cinnamon

adapted from Cafe Fanny and Blue Wave Pastry

      You can certainly substitute ingredients to make these gluten free or vegan. Also, though it's not absolutely required, giving the millet a good rinse prior to grinding it will help reduce any of its natural bitterness.

Ingredients

2 eggs

1 and 1/3 c brown sugar

10 T melted unsalted butter

1 and 1/4 c whole millet (often found in the bulk section of grocery stores)

2 3/4 c all purpose flour

1 and 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/4 baking soda

1/2 tsp sea salt

1 tsp cinnamon

1 and 3/4 c buttermilk

Process

      Preheat your oven to 350F and grease a muffin tin tray.

      In a food processor or with a mortar and pestle, grind the millet until it's just slightly broken up from its whole-grain ball form, about ten seconds -- you still want plenty of crunch and texture.

   Beat together the eggs and sugar until pale and fluffy. Add the melted butter, half of the buttermilk and the millet.

      Stir in the dry ingredients and remaining buttermilk. Mix gently and not too much -- over-mixing makes muffins flat!

      Spoon the batter so it fills each muffin tin three-quarters of the way full. Bake for 20 minutes or until an inserted tooth pick comes out clean.

      Remove from oven, run a knife around the edges and let sit for 10 minutes before inverting the tray to remove the muffins. Let cool and enjoy with coffee or tea.

Yields: about 18 muffins

Prep time: 20 minutes, tops

Bake time: 20 minutes

Writing by Adria Lee | Photography by Amy Pennington

Ought to be Considered

   

      You can see what is beloved in my poetry or recipe books based on the pages that are tear or ingredient stained. Occasionally, you might find a page that has both -- which is a good sign; a poem read aloud while cooking or a recipe that causes an emotional surge is one that ought to be considered. Perhaps the icing on the cake is when a binding is so worn that once taken off the shelf, the book falls open to a certain page as if to either bask in accustomed attention or to offer a warm, homecoming embrace.

       All of these markers of appreciation can be found on pages 267 and 268 of Judy Rodger's tremendous compendium of recipes in The Zuni Cafe Cookbook, underneath the modest title "Lentils Braised in Red Wine". There isn't much which heralds more promise of warmth and protection than a pot of lentils simmering on the stove. The smell of their steady earthiness that fills the kitchen and seeps under doorways with a peppery lift nearly takes your coat and boots off for you. The steamy booziness from the wine dries any raindrops lingering on your shoulders and the flavours are so inherently pleasing that the cares of the day are replaced in a matter of mouthfuls.

Pinot Noir Braised Lentils with Bay

hardly adapted from Judy Rodgers

      French lentils (lentilles du Puy) maintain their structure as they cook and can be found most markets that sell dried beans and grains. If you have trouble finding them however, simply substitute green lentils -- the dish might get a bit mushy but will still be delicious. The lentils get more wonderful as time goes on -- add a splash of liquid to re-heat or enough liquid to turn the dish into a hearty stew with a few handfuls of already-salted roasted squash and quickly blanched kale. 

Ingredients

4 T plus a splash of olive oil

1 medium onion, finely diced

3 carrots, finely diced

2 celery stalks, finely diced

sea salt

2 cloves of garlic, minced

1 bay leaf

a few pinches of dried or a sprig of fresh thyme (optional)

1 and 1/4 c French lentils

1 c plus a splash of Pinot Noir (or other dry,  lighter red wine)

4 c hot water, vegetable or chicken stock

Process

      Bring the water or stock to a hot temperature on a back burner and have a ladle or mug nearby with which to scoop the liquid when needed. You may not need all of the warmed stock -- the ratio of liquid to lentil is ever-changing.

      In a medium sized Dutch oven, heat 4 T of olive oil over medium heat. Add the onion, carrots and celery and a few pinches of salt and saute for 5 minutes until the onions are becoming translucent. Add the garlic and saute for a minute more.

      Add the bay leaf, optional thyme and French lentils and stir to coat with the vegetables. Add the cup of wine and enough hot liquid to just cover the lentils. Bring to a gentle simmer and cook, uncovered and stirring occasionally, until most of the liquid has been absorbed before adding more stock, as you would if making risotto.

      Continue this process until the lentils are beginning to split and are soft to the bite. Season with 3/4 teaspoon of sea salt, a splash of wine (a quarter cup or so) and another swirl of olive oil (2 tablespoons). Let simmer for another few minutes before removing from the heat. Using discretion, add more salt if necessary -- sometimes the lentils can be thirsty for it.

      Serve alongside lemon roasted potatoes, underneath a poached egg with a dollop of dijon or atop garlic rubbed toast.

Yields: enough for 6 (meals or people)

Prep time: 10 minutes

Cook time: 30 - 45 minutes, mostly unattended

Writing and Styling by Adria Lee | Photography by Amy Pennington

The Batch [That] Verged on Sophistication

    

      Few things herald the taste buds of my Americana holiday season like a sugar cookie. Few things, in fact, have ever measured up to the bones of this cookie recipe -- the one that my family makes each year from a tattered, butter smeared Tasha Tudor cookbook. Historically decorated with sprinkles or bright blazing glazes, it wasn't until this year that the batch verged on sophistication with the poppy seed addition, a reminder of the surprises that can come from the things (and people) we may tuck away but continue to cherish.

Poppy Seed Sugar Cookies

from Tasha Tudor

      You can certainly leave out the poppy seeds and still have something remarkable! Feel free to substitute vegan alternatives for the butter, milk and eggs.

Ingredients

1lb unsalted butter, room temp

2 cups of sugar

2 eggs

2 t vanilla extract (or the scrapings of one vanilla bean)

5 cups of plain flour

1/2 t of salt

1 tsp of baking soda dissolved in 3 tbs of milk

3/4 c poppyseeds 

Process

      With a whisk, cream the butter and sugar. Beat in the eggs and vanilla. With a wooden spoon, mix in flour and salt, then the baking soda mix and poppy seeds.

       Form into a ball, wrap in saran wrap/something bag-like and chill for 30 minutes.

       Preheat oven to 325F.

      Do whatever you want with the cookies: roll them out and use cookie cutters, tear off bits to form a rustic cookie, or even a rounded tennis ball shape pressed in the center with a spoon.

      Bake for 10 to 15 minutes, depending on shape/size -- they should be slightly soft when you pull them from the oven. Let cool for a few moments prior to savoring with a cup of tea or glass of milk.

Yields: about 2 dozen cookies

Prep time: 10 minutes

Bake time: 10-15 minutes

Writing by Adria Lee | Photography and Styling by Amy Pennington

Newfound Glory

   

      I was listening to Mary Oliver read from one of her poems the other day and gulped, shifting uncomfortably in my chair, when I heard her say: Do you need a little darkness to get you going?/ Let me be urgent as a knife, then, / and remind you of Keats, / so single of purpose and thinking, / for a while, / he had a lifetime.

     Thus being forced to brush up on my Romantic poetry history by recalling Keats's early death at age 25, I continued to sit, staring out the window as the breeze blew through the still-green leaves and the cicadas raged on like summer would never end, thinking about this abandoned corner of my world. There have been no shortage of discoveries on my end and yet when I sit to write about them, only sparks come from my fingertips -- never enough to get anything coherent to take flame and I think, "Oh, never mind, I'll do it later". Why do we fall silent? Why do we let our tasks and obligations rise up around our throats and keep us from singing? 

       The eggplant might have the solution. Dark purple, of all colors, and provocatively shaped, eggplants take some convincing. Eaten raw, they're an offensive offering. They require patience; when salted with foresight, the eggplant become less thirsty for the olive oil it craves and roasts with integrity of structure. With care and precision, this spongy vegetable yields to heat and becomes velvet at the final moment, making a wondrous addition to a sandwich or curry. If you find yourself lost for words, as I have over the past few months, charring an eggplant over an open flame will reveal a whole new world and leave you scrambling to your rooftop to sing about this newfound glory.

Charred Eggplant Baba Ganoush

inspired by and adapted from Judy Rodgers and Yotam Ottolenghi

      Don't hover over the eggplant if you are faint of heart -- sometimes little cracks appear that sudden steam escapes through that could cause a fright. Let it char and get black! Your whole kitchen will fill with the smokey aroma -- that's when you know you're doing it right. If you don't have a gas stove, you could also do this under the broiler of your electric stove but please don't do it atop an electrical range.

Ingredients

1 medium eggplant

1 clove of garlic, crushed

1/2 c full-fat Greek yogurt or Vegenaise (a bit less if you're using traditional mayonnaise or aioli)

2 T olive oil

2 t pomegranate molasses (available in Middle Eastern markets or sections of grocery stores)

a squeeze of fresh lemon juice

1/2 t sea salt

a few cranks/pinches of freshly cracked black pepper

a handful of fresh parsley, chopped

Process

      Turn on one of your gas stove burners to a medium flame. Place the eggplant directly on the stove grate over the flame for about 10 to 15 minutes, rotating every few minutes with a pair of tongs. The eggplant should be blackened all over and slightly limp -- it's fine if it's releasing some liquid. Set aside to let cool.

      Meanwhile, place the remaining ingredients in a mixing bowl and stir to combine. 

      When the eggplant is cool enough to touch, scrape out the flesh and discard the charred skin and stem -- don't worry if some of the skin has stubbornly remained -- it's safe to eat. Chop the eggplant flesh until you have almost a paste and then add it to the mixing bowl. Mix well and taste -- add more salt or a drizzle of pomegranate molasses if it needs a lift. 

      Garnish with parsley and serve with toasted pita, roasted squash, or alongside a crudité platter.

Yields: baba ganoush for 6 or 8, depending

Prep time: 10 minutes

Cook (charring) time: 15 minutes

Writing and Styling by Adria Lee | Photography by Amy Pennington