Thanksgiving Side Dish Recipe: Roasted Brussels Sprouts and Pears

What exactly is the root of all this antipathy toward Brussels sprouts?

Is it the color? Sometimes it's not easy being green. Or yellowish-green.

Is it the smell? You know what I'm talking about. Boil Brussels sprouts on your stove top for 10 minutes and the neighbors will begin to wonder which farm animal you recently adopted.

Is it your mother's fault? If she served mushy, water-logged, brown Brussels sprouts when you were a kid, it's not your fault that you hate them.

Let me attempt to ingratiate Brussels sprouts with you, especially since many of you will likely be cooking and/or eating them next week on Thanksgiving.

Though Brussels sprouts have been around since ancient times, they are named after the city of Brussels in Belgium, where they have been cultivated (and appreciated) since Medieval times. Brussels sprouts are members of the brassica family, so they're related to broccoli, cabbage, cauliflower, and kolrabi, none of which are going to win any popularity contests. That's why Brussels sprouts taste like cabbage and are sometimes referred to as "mini cabbages."




5 Tips for Liking Brussels Sprouts:

1. Select brightly colored Brussels sprouts that are free of black spots or other blemishes, which indicate they are old.

2. Choose smaller Brussels sprouts, which tend to be nuttier in flavor and less "cabbagy" tasting.

3. DO NOT overcook them. Overcooked Brussels sprouts release more sulfur, which causes that smell. You know the one.

4. How you cook Brussels sprouts makes a big difference in how they taste. First par-boil Brussels sprouts and "shock" them. Partially boil the sprouts for 2-3 minutes, then plunge them into a bowl of ice water; this will stop the cooking process and maintain the sprouts' vibrant color. Then you can saute them on the stove top or roast them in the oven.

5. If you are invited to someone's house for Thanksgiving this year, offer to make the Brussels sprouts, so you don't have to suffer Aunt Maude's sadly boiled, mealy sprouts for another year. Everyone will be thankful for that.

And for you food bloggers out there, here's a secret for building traffic. Come up with a killer Brussels sprouts recipe. Believe it or not, of all the posts I have written, one that continually elicits reader emails is Brussels Sprouts with Toasted Breadcrumbs and Lemon. Many people have emailed me thank you notes, saying that this "sunny" version of Brussels sprouts has become their new favorite. I even had one woman say she subscribed to my feed because of that recipe.

So there you have it, a way to build blog traffic and reader subscribers with Brussels sprouts. I wonder if Problogger knows about this.



Roasted Brussels Sprouts and Pears
Makes 6 servings
Print recipe only here.

Sweet honey and pears act as a foil to the earthy Brussels sprouts. It's a simple yet elegant dish that is ideal for a holiday dinner.

2 pounds Brussels sprouts, trimmed and halved
2 large Bartlett or Bosc pears, unpeeled, and thinly sliced
2 teaspoons extra virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons honey
2 teaspoons lemon juice
zest of 1/2 lemon
2 teaspoons fresh minced ginger
4 sprigs fresh thyme, plus extra for garnish
salt and several cranks of freshly ground black pepper
1/4 cup lightly toasted walnuts, chopped

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. In a large saucepan boil Brussels sprouts for 2 minutes; drain.

In a large bowl, combine all ingredients (except walnuts) and toss until vegetables are well coated. Lay vegetables in a single layer on a tin-foil lined baking sheet (for easy clean-up). Roast for 20 minutes, turning once, or until vegetables have a few brown spots.

Place cooked vegetables in a serving dish. Drizzle with a little extra virgin olive oil. Sprinkle with toasted walnuts and some extra salt and thyme. Serve immediately.

Don't forget to check out the previous three traditional Thanksgiving side dishes with a twist:

Roasted Acorn Squash with Honey-Lime Glazed Pepitas





Olive Oil, Caramelized Onion, and Sage Sweet Potatoes





String Beans with Prosciutto, Pine Nuts, and Meyer Lemon

• Jeanne's Sauteed Brussels Sprouts
• Joey's Sauteed Brussels Sprouts with Sweet Wine
• Kalyn's Sauteed Brussels Sprouts with Balsamic, Parmesan, and Pine Nuts
• The Expatriate's Kitchen Crispy Brussels Sprouts

I'm sending this to Siri of Siri's Corner who is the hosting this week's Weekend Herb Blogging.

Farmers’ Market Veggie Medley with a Cumin-Chile Vinaigrette

I love vegetables. Yes, even Brussels sprouts and cauliflower. In fact, my adoration for carrots led me to claim them as my #2 Reason for living in California. Of course, now that butternut squash is in season, carrots might get bumped to #3.

Fall is a wonderful time to visit your local farmers' market. Here in Southern California, farmers' markets are busy year-round, but September is an especially popular month because of its dazzling array of produce. Right now, summer's blazing red tomatoes compete with autumn’s sweet, crispy jujubes (pronounced like the popular movie theater candy) for market-goers’ attention. For the record, the jujubes won, hands down.

September is also prime time for many Mexican vegetables, such as creamy Hass avocados, tart tomatillos, and fiery chiles. Seeing them inspired me to make this healthy vegetable medley; it is delicious served with some warm corn tortillas.

The variety of crunchy and creamy textures is satisfying, while the cumin-chile vinaigrette provides a sweat-inducing kick. Though parsley or cilantro works well, I would suggest using fresh rather than dried herbs for a bold, clean flavor.

If you haven't seen it, then check out the September Eat Local Challenge and their 10 Reasons to Eat Local Food.

Farmers’ Market Veggies with a Cumin-Chile Vinaigrette
Makes 4 side servings

Print recipe only here.

1 cup fresh corn (or canned, if unavailable)
1 c diced zucchini
1 cup red bell pepper
1 cup diced jicama
½ cup diced carrots
½ cup diced tomatillos
2-3 green onions, finely chopped
1 15-oz can black beans, rinsed
1 Hass avocado, diced, optional

Cumin-Chile Vinaigrette

1 Tbsp fruity olive oil
2 Tbsp white wine vinegar or white balsamic vinegar
2 Tbsp honey
Juice of 1 lime (about 2-3 Tbsp)
1/8 tsp cumin
1 small serrano chile (which is hotter) or jalapeno (with some seeds for extra heat)
2 Tbsp coarsely chopped parsley or cilantro
Salt, to taste

Place vegetables and black beans in a large bowl. Meanwhile, whisk vinaigrette ingredients until fully blended. Pour over vegetables and serve.

Note: Fresh sweet corn on the cob can be eaten raw, which is delicious and crunchy.

Here are some other farmers' market dishes you might like:
Mexican Citrus Salad with an Orange-Lime Vinaigrette
Roasted Acorn Squash with Medjool Dates and Toasted Almonds
Pasta with Lemony Broccoli, Toasted Walnuts, and Breadcrumbs


Here are more delicious corn and black bean recipes you might like:
Emily's Corn and Black Bean Tortilla Cakes
Laura Rebecca's Grilled Flank Steak with Corn, Black Bean, and Avocado Salad
What Do I Know's Black Bean and Rice Cakes with Chipotle Remoulade

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You Can Make a Lot of Salsa with a Case of Mangoes

If you’re familiar with my blog, then you know I love farmers’ markets. A week without a trip to the farmers' market is like a week without the sun: it makes me grumpy. I can’t remember the last time I bought produce in a regular grocery store. Sure, I go to the supermarket for eggs, milk, and cereal, but fruits and vegetables come from the farmers. So, what I did other day, shocked me. I tell myself it a was just a transgression.

I was at Costco stocking up on bottled water, protein powder, and toilet paper (why two people need 36 rolls of Northern toilet tissue, I’ll never know). On my way to the protein powder, I passed pineapples, tall, fragrant, ripe pineapples each topped with a crown fit for a king. They had no brown spots, no fuzzy fur on the bottoms—they were perfect. Better yet, they were only $2.99 each. I couldn’t believe it! I put two in my carriage and buried them under the toilet paper.

Not 20 feet later on my way to the water, I passed a mountain of mangoes, whose green and yellow skins were taut and unblemished. Having just paid $1.75 each for some (which weren’t even good), I stopped to check the price -- $8 for a whole case! I debated whether or not to buy them. What would we do with a whole case of mangoes? Would they be sweet? What if they all ripened at the same time? Then I heard my father’s voice in my head saying, “Buy them! They won’t go to waste." “But Dad, it’s only the two of us.” “Just buy them!” the voice echoed. After scanning left and right, I picked up a case and placed it in the carriage. What did I think? That the Farm Bureau was watching me on the surveillance camera? Feeling guilty, I wondered if the toilet paper could cover these too.

When Jeff came home from work that night, he saw the behemoth bowl of mangoes and pineapples on the counter and asked, "Costco?" "Costco," I replied.

That night we enjoyed a pineapple-mango salsa on swordfish for Jeff and tofu for me. Fruit salsas are a staple in our house because they're light, healthy, and versatile. This salsa is sweet, spicy, and tangy and tastes even better when allowed to rest at room temperature before serving. Also, the rich golden yellow of both fruits seemed just right to submit to Barbara's A Taste of Yellow event at the famed Winos and Foodies. In addition to raising awareness of cancer, Barbara's event has been approved by the Lance Armstrong Foundation as an official LIVESTRONG Day Event.

Swordfish with Pineapple-Mango Salsa
Print recipe only here.

1 cup fresh pineapple, diced
¾ cup mango, diced
1 small red or green chile, finely diced
3 Tbsp green onions, finely sliced
Juice of ½ lime
1 Tbsp fresh mint, finely chopped
1 Tbsp fresh cilantro, finely chopped
Salt, to taste

2 (4-oz) swordfish steaks or mahi-mahi
1 tsp olive oil
Salt and pepper

For the salsa, simply place all ingredients in a bowl; allow to rest for at least 45 min- 1 hr. so the flavors will mingle.

Preheat the broiler. Drizzle the olive oil on both sides of the swordfish, and season with salt and pepper. Broil for 4-5 minutes, flip over steaks, and broil another 4-5 minutes, or until opaque. Alternatively, you can grill the swordfish or pan fry on the stovetop. Makes 2 servings.

Serving suggestion: steamed sugar snap peas lightly seasoned with extra virgin olive oil, fresh mint, & salt and pepper are a lovely side vegetable.

If you're unfamiliar with selecting and cutting a mango, then check out Rachel’s tutorial at Coconut and Lime.

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Why I Live in California Reason #2: Carrots

Despite grueling traffic, exorbitant real estate prices, and perpetual smog, Jeff and I have decided to stay in Southern California when he completes his residency in June. We have discussed this ad nauseum: we have wonderful families back in RI, the reimbursement is higher and the cost of living is lower there, and not to mention, there's no good Italian bread here.

There is no single reason we have made this decision, but one factor stands out above others: the weather. It's probably why most of the 15 million people who call Southern California home choose to live here. For Jeff and me, the second factor is one my food blog friends can appreciate: the produce.

Recently at our farmers’ market Jeff and I chatted with Neil, a local farmer, who is originally from London. (We adore London, the site of our honeymoon.) Curious why an aesthete Brit would move to Southern California, I asked Neil why he stays here.

“The weather,” he said. “I simply can’t live without the sun, and it’s sunny here all the time.”

“But don't you miss London with its rich history and culture?" I asked.

“Look, London is great,” he said, “but it’s always grey and rainy. In fact, I believe summer fell on a Wednesday there last year.”

Neil has a brilliant personality; so does his produce. He is from Weiser Family Farms where they sell organic, charismatic produce: blithe blue potatoes, cheeky green and purple cauliflower, and cheerful colored carrots.


Every week market-goers animatedly question him about his unique produce, which lately has included Jerusalem artichokes, Romanesco cauliflower, and crosne (Chinese artichokes, pictured below).

Neil, like so many farmers, is always informative; he teaches you about the produce and offers cooking tips and recipes as well.

One of our favorite vegetables from Weiser Family Farms is carrots. Not prosaic orange carrots, but kaleidoscope carrots with appealing names: Yellowstone (ripe lemon yellow), Purple Haze (rich, royal maroon), Nantes (deep pumpkin orange), and Atomic Red (firecracker red).


Unlike the orange “baby”carrots you find in the supermarket, these “mini” or "rainbow" carrots are about 5-6 inches long and come in a variety of colors. Though delicious raw, I prefer to roast them, allowing their natural sugars to caramelize. They are enhanced with any variety of fresh herbs; for this recipe, I used savory fresh thyme and chives which contrast beautifully with the carrots’ sweetness.

Carrots are as healthy as they are delicious (as I learned from researching my Fit Fare post). They are powerhouses of beta carotene, an antioxidant that lowers your risk of cancer, as well as lutein, which promotes ocular health. If you're crazy about carrots, then check out the World Carrot Museum. Yup. There's a virtual museum for carrots with more than you'd ever care to know about the world's #2 vegetable (potato is #1).

I am submitting this post to the Meeta for this month's Monthly Mingle which features spring food.

I also wish to apologize to Tigerfish of the delicious Teczcape who tagged me a while back about a favorite food gem, to which I have not had the chance to reply. It's clear that Neil and Weiser Family Farms is a diamond among jewels and an easy choice for "favorite food gem."

Roasted Rainbow Carrots

Makes 4 servings.
Print recipe only here.

Carrots:
1 lb. mini carrots, peeled or unpeeled (any color/variety available to you)
1-2 tsp olive oil
2 tsp chopped fresh thyme
2 tsp chopped fresh chives
A generous sprinkling of salt and pepper

Glaze:
1 tsp olive oil
1 tsp fresh lemon juice
A couple of pinches of lemon zest
2 tsp honey
Salt and pepper, to taste
Additional chopped fresh thyme and chives for garnish

Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Wash and peel carrots, and pat dry. (I actually leave the skin on since it is so tender and full of nutrients). Lay carrots on a baking sheet, and drizzle with olive oil. Add chives, thyme, and salt & pepper. Toss well to coat. Roast for about 15-20 min., turning once. The skins should slightly brown and blister.

Meanwhile, in a small bowl, whisk together olive oil, lemon juice, lemon zest, and honey until well combined. Season with salt and pepper as needed.

Drizzle glaze over the cooked carrots, and garnish with a sprinkling of chopped fresh thyme and chives.



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“It's Fri—taaa—taa!”

Every Friday after school, my mom and I delivered groceries to my grandmother in her little apartment. (More about her here). We arrived at her front door, arms heavy with Stop n' Shop bags, and would ring the bell with a free elbow. Invariably, I would complain about how long it was taking her. (I swear, it took her 5 minutes to walk the 10 feet from her recliner to the front door). And invariably, we would hear her voice from within, “Aspette! Aspette!” (Wait! Wait!). With my arms completely numb by this point, she would finally let us in and exclaim: “Oooohh, I’m so glad you came! I just made a nice fri—taaa—taa. You’ll have some.” She said it every time as if she didn’t expect us.

Though we ate frittata often at home, I associate it most with Spring and with Nan; Fridays during Lent we would abstain from meat, so she always made a simple vegetable frittata, which was waiting for us when we arrived.

On a typical New England March day (rainy and raw), we couldn’t wait to get inside her toasty warm apartment where the thermostat was always set at 78 degrees. Her cramped apartment exuded comfort: as a girl, I loved the way every nook and cranny was filled with furniture and heirlooms and the way the smell of baked goods and coffee filled the rooms. It was so quiet that I would just sit crouched on her sofa in the few beams of light from the late afternoon sun and listen to the ticking of her grandfather clock. After filling ourselves on frittata, my grandmother (and oftentimes my mother and I!) would fall asleep.

Frittata is really nothing more than eggs with vegetables, cheeses, or meats cooked into it. Yet, made the right way, it is oh-so-satisfying. Of the countless delicious meals my grandmother made, my mother still says her frittatas were the best. They were always simple: potato and onion, sausage and pepper, or spinach and Parmesan. Invariably, we would ask her: “But Nan, what do you do? Nobody makes frittata like you.” To which she would shrug her shoulders, throw her hand in the air, and reply,“What? What do I do? It’s frittata,” then smile to herself. She loved the compliment, and we knew it.

Nan’s Potato, Pepper, and Onion Frittata
Print recipe only here.

1-2 tsp olive oil
1 small potato, diced
1 small onion or shallot
1/2 red bell pepper, thinly sliced
5 eggs (Egg Beaters or whites only are also fine)
A handful of fresh basil, thinly sliced
A handful of fresh parsley, chopped
½ cup grated Parmesan cheese
A few shakes of crushed red pepper
A few dashes of salt

Over medium-low heat, add olive oil to an 8-inch non-stick skillet; and potatoes and sauté until golden brown, about 5-7 min. Add onions; cook another 2-3 minutes. Add red bell pepper strips; cook another 2-3 minutes.

Meanwhile, beat the eggs in a small bowl; add fresh basil, parsley, cheese, salt, and red pepper. Pour the egg mixture into the skillet. With a fork, gently move the egg mixture from side to side as it begins to cook to ensure that it cooks evenly. Do this until the eggs start to solidify and a crust begins to form around the edges. This takes about 5-8 minutes. Give the pan handle a jiggle, and when the eggs appear set, remove the pan from the stovetop and place under the broiler. Broil for 3-4 minutes, until the top begins to puff up and turn a golden brown. Keep a close eye on it so it doesn’t burn. Once nicely browned, let cool for a couple of minutes before slicing. Serve hot or at room temperature. Makes 2 large or 4 small servings.

Leftovers? Try a Frittata Sandwich

Since no one left Nan's house without food (ever), we would often eat frittata for lunch the next day. Mom would put it on toasted Italian bread with a little bit of homemade tomato sauce ("gravy" for the RI readers) and melted mozzarella. It's one of Jeff's favorites.

I am submitting this post to the Ellie of Kitchen Wench who is hosting a lovely once-off event: Nostalgia Tastes Bittersweet. Also, for another springtime frittata recipe, check out Toni's asparagus frittata at Daily Bread Journal.

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It's a Bird. It's a Plane. It's a Super Grain.

We are a culture obsessed with rankings. From the 50 Most Beautiful People to the 10 Best Places to Live, we are bombarded with lists that tell us what is the "best" of everything. Food is no exception; I’ve lost count of the articles I’ve read about “superfoods.” You know them—they're the low-fat, high-protein, antioxidant-rich foods. While blueberries always seem to nab the top spot, quinoa is slowing gaining ground. And it’s easy to see why.

Quinoa is a high-protein grain that contains all 8 essential amino acids (a rarity in vegetarian foods) and is indispensible when you're trying to tone your arms. It's high in fiber, magnesium, and iron; plus it's gluten-free. And suprisingly, quinoa is as delicious as it is nutritious.

The first time I went to the market looking for quinoa, I asked the Birkenstock-wearing girl working in the bulk section, "Do you have kwi-NO-ah?"

"Do we have what?” she asked, perplexed.

“Kwi-NO-ah” I said again, “it’s a grain."

“How do you spell it?” she asked.

“Q-U-I-N-O-A,” I replied.

“Oh!” she giggled, “You mean keen-WAH.”

“Sorry?” I asked.

“It’s pronounced keen-WAH," she said. Then she proceeded to give me a lesson about Spanish pronunciation, the exploitation of the native peoples of Central America, and the hegemony of the West, ending up with something about Dick Cheney and Halliburton.

Thankfully, I had a bin of steel cut oats to lean on during her talk. When she finished, I asked her, "So which aisle is the quinoa in again?"

Leaning over to pick some steel cut oats off of my fleece jacket, she said, "Oh, we don’t carry quinoa here.”

Fortunately, my old standby, Trader Joe’s, does.

Although it is sometimes substituted for couscous, quinoa is fluffier, nuttier, and crunchier. Like couscous, it is versatile — I use it in everything from salads to soups to stuffings. When I saw this Inca Quinoa Salad from Nirmala Narine’s cookbook In Nirmala’s Kitchen: Everyday World Cuisine, I knew I had to make it.

Why Inca Quinoa Salad? Because the Incas were the first to cultivate quinoa and considered it sacred, even calling it “chisaya mama” which means “mother of all grains." So, it looks like quinoa was on the list of superfoods 6,000 years ago.

So just how super is quinoa? Well, I’m not claiming that you’ll be able to leap over tall buildings after eating it, but it might help you add an inch to those biceps.


Inca Quinoa Salad

Makes 4 side or 2 main servings.
Print recipe only here.

¼ c extra virgin olive oil (I used a little less than 1/8 c)
1 tsp minced garlic
1 small shallot, chopped
1 jalapeno, seeded, chopped
4 sun-dried tomatoes, chopped
1 tsp curry powder
½ cup uncooked quinoa
1 cup water (maybe more if needed)
1 small cucumber, peeled, seeded, and diced
2 Tbsp finely chopped cilantro
1 Tbsp fresh lime juice
12 endive leaves
Sea salt

To prepare quinoa:
Pour the uncooked quinoa in a fine-mesh sieve; rinse and drain. (This helps remove some slight natural bitterness from the grains). In a small saucepan, add quinoa and 1 cup water; bring to a boil. Reduce heat, simmer, and cover until all of the water is absorbed, about 15-20 minutes. (If the water has evaporated before the quinoa is cooked, just add a bit more.) The quinoa will be done when the grains have turned partially white, and the spiral-like germ of the grain is visible. They should maintain a slight crunch when eaten. This will yield about 1 ½ cups cooked quinoa.

In a small skillet, sauté garlic and shallots in olive oil over medium heat, about 2 min. Add the jalapeno and curry powder; heat another 2 min. Remove from heat; let cool. Place in a bowl, and add cooked quinoa, tomatoes, cucumber, cilantro, lime juice, and salt. Toss to coat well. Serve in endive leaves or eat on its own.

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When the Moon Hits Your Eye, Like A Big Broccolini Pie, That's Amore

When Jeanne from Cook Sister! announced that pies would be the topic for this month’s Waiter, there’s something in my… food blog event, I knew exactly what I was going to make.

Where I grew up, every neighborhood was dotted with family-run bakeries and pizzerias. Just walking along the famed Federal Hill, the wafting aromas of freshly baked wood-fired pizzas and warm yeasty breads could make even the most carb-averse person swoon. And if the smell wasn't enough to entice you, then the sight was: crispy, steaming-hot breads, calzones, and pizzas proudly propped in the store windows beckoning you to come in and have one. And considering how many times I have been lured inside (especially at Buono’s and Crugnale’s Bakeries), I can assure you that they are impossible to resist.

Calzones are true comfort food. They quell your worst hunger and leave you feeling content. Their versatility of fillings ensures that there’s something for everyone to love. And best of all, for me, they do what comfort food should do: remind me of home.

My mom and I have made hundreds of calzones over the years; what’s funny is that we always called calzones filled with eggplant or sausage or meatballs "calzones," but calzones filled with spinach or broccoli were called "pies." Which got me thinking, what’s the difference? Nothing. Turns out a spinach or broccoli pie is just another name for a calzone.

The calzone, originated in Naples, Italy, is often referred to as a “turn-over” or "half-moon" and is made of pizza dough that is filled with cheeses, vegetables, and meats. Though mozzarella cheese is most commonly featured here in the US, many other types of cheese such as fresh ricotta, Provolone, and Parmesan are used as well. Calzones can be deep-fried, but I’ve always had baked. No matter the name, they all share one common trait: they are oh so satisfying.

I’m putting a little California twist on this recipe. Broccolini just debuted at the farmer’s market and is one of my favorite vegetables. As I learned last week, it is not merely young or baby broccoli; rather, it’s a hybrid of broccoli and Chinese kale. Broccolini are delicate, a svelte version of regular broccoli, and they have a beautiful grassy green color. Their flavor is reminiscent of broccoli but is distinctly sweeter, with a pleasing peppery aftertaste. In this recipe, its sweetness contrasts nicely with the rich sun-dried tomatoes, salty olives and cheese, and toasty pinenuts. Of course, you can substitute regular broccoli or the bolder broccoli rabe (rapini).


Broccolini and Sun-Dried Tomato Pie (or Calzone)

Print recipe only here.

2 tsp olive oil, plus 2 tsp for brushing on top of pies
1 pound pizza dough (brought to room temperature)
1/8 cup sun-dried tomatoes, thinly sliced (dry-packed or oil-soaked)
1/8 cup pine nuts, toasted
1 cup broccolini, chopped
¼ cup black olives, such as Cerignola and Kalamata
½ cup grated Parmesan Reggiano cheese
A few shakes of crushed red pepper
A few dashes of salt

Note: If you’re using dry-packed sun-dried tomatoes, then allow them to rest in warm water for 5 minutes before slicing.

To toast the pinenuts, place in a dry skillet over medium heat for about 1 minute or until golden brown. Shake the pan handle gently to ensure even toasting. Remove from heat.

In a large skillet, heat 2 tsp. olive oil; sauté broccolini for about 1-2 minutes until it turns bright green yet remains firm. Add remaining ingredients and gently mix. Heat for 1 minute more, then remove from heat. Taste the filling to adjust seasonings.

To form the pies:
Working on a lightly floured surface, divide the dough in half, and roll into two 8-10-inch ovals. For each piece of dough, put half of the broccolini mixture a bit above the center of the oval. Fold the dough to form a half-moon; seal the edges together by pressing down lightly. Then using your fingertips, fold the edge of the dough up, and pinch around the edge to create a seal. Brush them with the remaining 2 tsp of extra-virgin olive oil.

Baking pies on a baking sheet:
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Bake on a rack in the lower third of the oven for about 20 minutes or until the bottom is browned. Then bump up the heat to 425, and move the pan to the upper third of the oven; bake an additional 15 minutes or until the top of the pie is golden brown and crispy.

Baking pies on a pizza stone:
Preheat the oven to 475-500 degrees, and heat the stone for at least 30 minutes. Cook pies directly on the heated stone for about 15 minutes or until both the bottoms and tops are golden brown and crispy.

1 pound of dough will make 2 large pies.

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Stir Your Risotto Less, Work Your Glutes More

When we first moved to Southern California, we thought we were in pretty good shape; turns out that “pretty good shape” is a relative phrase. Even the guy bagging our groceries knows his body fat percentage. In fact, the popular gym chain, 24 Hour Fitness (yes, they are open 24 hours a day), originated here. That pretty much says it all.

After a killer leg workout at the gym this past Sunday, we wanted to treat ourselves to a mega-carb meal. Since I had a butternut squash saved and had just purchased some fresh rosemary, I decided to make butternut squash risotto.

I prefer fresh rosemary to dried because its soft needles are much more redolent and its flavor is brighter. In this butternut squash risotto, it heightens the flavor of the squash and balances the pungent blue cheese.

I know some people don’t make risotto because it takes too long and the continuous stirring is tedious. Well, I’ll let you in on a secret: I’ve been making risotto for years, and I don’t stir it continuously. Malto Mario would be disappointed, I’m sure. But it never seemed to make any significant difference to me. And now Jamie Oliver (in Jamie’s Italy) has vindicated us non-stirrers, saying he stirs only intermittently as well.

True, making risotto is not a 10-minute meal. But trust me, it’s worth the work (and a few extra reps on the leg press).

I have submitted this recipe to Anna of Anna's Cool Finds who is hosting this week's Weekend Herb Blogging.

Butternut Squash Risotto with Rosemary, Walnuts, and Blue Cheese
Print recipe only here.

1 teaspoon olive oil
1 teaspoon butter
1 shallot, diced
1 cup butternut squash, roasted
2 1/2 cups low-sodium vegetable broth (or as much as needed)
½ cup Arborio rice
¼ cup half n' half or milk
1 teaspoon fresh rosemary, chopped
1/8 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1-2 tablespoons crumbled blue cheese
1/8 cup toasted walnuts, chopped
Salt and pepper, to taste

Pre-heat oven to 300 degrees; place walnuts on a baking sheet in oven for about 10 minutes, until slightly toasted and fragrant.

Bump up the heat to 400 degrees. Slice squash in half, remove seeds, and rub with a little olive oil; roast face-side down for 40-45 minutes or until tender when pierced with a fork. Once the squash is cooked, scoop out the flesh, and mash it by hand. It will be added to the cooked risotto later.

Meanwhile, heat broth in a saucepan over medium heat, then lower to a simmer.

For the risotto: In a large metal skillet, saute the shallots in olive oil and butter. Add the Arborio rice; toast for about 1 minute. Cook the risotto at a slow simmer, adding heated broth ½ cupful at a time. Stir occasionally, making sure the risotto absorbs the liquid before adding more; just be careful not to let the bottom burn. As it continues to absorb the liquid, it will become tender and creamy. Also, season with some salt as you go along.

I use 2-3 cups of broth for this recipe, but use more or less as needed. It usually takes about 20 minutes for the risotto to become completely cooked; but taste it. It should be wonderfully creamy and thick; it’s best al dente, which means it should still retain some firmness when you chew it. At this point, add the cooked squash, half n'half or milk, ½ the rosemary, and some salt & pepper; stir well.

Remove from heat; stir in Parmesan cheese now, as it will melt more slowly. Add some salt and pepper as needed. Most cookbooks suggest adding 1-2 Tbsp. butter at this point, but it’s optional (and a lot fewer calories without it). Plate your risotto, topping it with crumbled blue cheese, toasted walnuts, and the rest of the chopped fresh rosemary. Eat right away to enjoy its velvety goodness.

Makes 4 portions. (or 2 if it’s after a leg workout)


Saw these pretty pink tulips near my apartment on Sunday and just wanted to share them with you. Spring is coming....

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Of Yankees and Yams

I always thought yams and sweet potatoes were different vegetables. A few years ago a farmer taught me differently. We had just moved to North Carolina from Rhode Island and went to the Raleigh Farmers' Market looking for yams. We saw a farmer with a 3-foot high pile of tubers on his table and a single cardboard sign labled "Sweet Potatoes." So I asked him, "Do you have any yams?" He answered, "They're right 'ere," picking up one of the potatoes from the table in front of us. "No, yams," I said. "Yeah, right 'ere," he repeated, handing me the sweet potato.

I looked over at Jeff thinking: Great, these Southerners don't know the difference between a sweet potato and a yam.

At the same time the farmer looked over at his wife behind the cash box thinking: Great, another Yankee who doesn't know the first thing about potatoes.

He then explained to me that a yam is really just an orange-fleshed sweet potato. Unlike their white-fleshed counterparts, however, these tubers are so sweet that even when eaten plain they taste like sugar has been added to them. In fact, that first week I used them to make a sweet potato pie (from a wonderful recipe from this same farmer). I brought him a piece the next weekend. Who would have known that the simple sweet potato (er, yam) could be the basis of a rapprochement of the North and South.

I tossed this recipe together recently with some fresh citrus and ginger to add a little sparkle. I've also used winter squash or carrots instead of yams.

Baked Yams with a Citrus Glaze and Toasted Pecans
Makes 2 servings.
Print recipe only here.

1 large yam
Some cooking spray or a little olive oil for coating the yam
1 tsp butter
¼ cup orange or tangerine juice
1 tsp of good honey
About 1 tsp of grated fresh ginger
About 1 tsp of orange zest
About 1 tsp of lemon zest
A pinch of ground cinnamon
A pinch of nutmeg
Some salt and pepper, to taste
Chopped, toasted pecans for garnish

To toast the pecans, pre-heat the oven to 325 degrees. Layer the pecans on a baking sheet, and bake for 10 minutes, or until slightly toasty and aromatic.

Bump up the oven temperature to 400 degrees. Line a baking sheet with tinfoil (for easy clean-up). Slice a yam in half, lengthwise, and coat the flesh with some cooking spray or a little olive oil; place face down on baking sheet. Bake at 400 degrees for about 30 minutes, or until a fork easily pierces it. Remove from oven, and let cool.

Meanwhile, in a small pan over medium-low heat, whisk the butter, orange juice, and honey until combined. Add the remaining ingredients, and heat for a couple of minutes, until it begins to slightly thicken and bubble up.

Once the yams are cooled, scoop out the cooked flesh, and place it in a bowl. Pour the citrus glaze on top, and mix well. Add toasted pecans.

Serving Suggestion: This pairs well with pan-seared tofu or pork.

Squash's Swan Song

Growing up in New England, I’ve always anticipated the arrival and lamented the passing of the seasons. Having lived in Southern California for a few years now, I’ve come to realize that there are no seasons here. Oh, sure, we pretend it’s winter by donning our wooly knitted scarves, but then undermine any attempt at credibility by pairing them with flip-flops and oversized Channel sunglasses.

Now, I realize it’s February, and squash and yams had their leading roles back during Thanksgiving dinner. But, I’m sure most of you still have some around and might like a new recipe or two. If you do, then check out a simply delicious squash soup at Cookiecrumb's hilarious site I'm Mad and I Eat (01.Feb.07 post). I've also got a couple of recipes up my sleeve that will enliven these former ingenues with some seasonal citrus.

This is my recipe for squash; on my next post, I’ll share one for yams. Since roasting vegetables causes their natural sugars to caramelize into a satisfyingly sweet delight, it remains my favorite method of preparation. With the sugary, chewy dates in this dish you could practically call it dessert. Okay, even I don’t believe that. Just eat this, then eat chocolate.

Roasted Acorn Squash with Medjool Dates and Toasted Almonds
Makes 4 servings.
Print recipe only here.

1 medium acorn squash or other winter squash (about two cups)
2 tsp butter
1 shallot, chopped
1 tsp brown sugar
The juice of ½ small lemon (about 1 tsp)
A little bit of lemon zest
A pinch of ground cinnamon
5-6 Medjool dates,* coarsely chopped
¼ cup toasted almonds, coarsely chopped
1-2 tsp fresh parsley, chopped
Some salt and pepper, to taste

To toast the almonds, pre-heat oven to 350 degrees. Spread almonds in a single layer on a baking sheet. Bake for 8-10 minutes, or until slightly golden and aromatic.

Bump up the heat in the oven to 375 degrees. Roast the squash face side down for 35-45 minutes or until tender when pierced with a fork. Remove from the oven, and let cool. Scoop out the cooked flesh, and set aside.

Meanwhile, in a large skillet over medium heat, sauté shallots in butter until slightly caramelized. Add brown sugar, lemon juice, lemon zest, and cinnamon. Add the cooked squash, and mix well by hand. (You can puree it at this point if you like, but I prefer a lumpy texture). Stir in the dates, and season well with salt and black pepper. Remove from heat. Stir in chopped almonds and fresh parsley. Garnish with more almonds and parsley before serving.


*TIP: Medjool dates are sweeter than most varieties, and have a soft, creamy texture and deep amber-brown color. I usually buy them at the farmers’ market, but Trader Joe’s and all major markets sell them. If you can’t find them, then just substitute a different variety.

Waffles, Coffee, and Lentil Soup

At 5' tall, my grandmother was a giant of a woman. She was a dominating figure in my life and my mother's life. We have loved her, and we have feared her. Throughout our lives, her cooking sustained us; and from her little kitchen with four pots, a couple of frying pans, and some wooden spoons, her food was always remarkably delicious.

Nan is 98 years old now and lives in the Alzheimer’s unit at Scalabrini nursing home in Rhode Island. She doesn’t remember much any more. She doesn’t remember me. She usually forgets my mother, who visits her every day. When I saw Nan last month for Christmas, I tried to prompt her. “Nan, remember me? Your granddaughter? Susan?” Nothing.

On the last day that Jeff and I lived in Rhode Island before moving to North Carolina, we slept over Nan's house, with a full U-haul truck parked in the driveway. When we awoke, it was raining as hard as I can ever remember. It was January 1997. My grandmother, a notorious late sleeper, got up at 4:00 am that bitter cold morning and made us breakfast. We woke to the warm, sweet smell of waffles from her vintage waffle iron and to the gurgling sound of her electric coffee percolator. They were the best tasting waffles I had ever had and have had since that day.

I provoked her again: “Remember me Nan? I’m your granddaughter, Susan. I’m married to Jeff" (she loves Jeff). Still nothing. “Remember when you made us waffles?” “Waffles?” she answered. “Yeah, that rainy morning.” Her eyes lit up. “Oooh, yeah,” she said. “I made you waffles.” Tears were welling up in my eyes. “Waffles and coffee, huh?” she added. “Yeah, Nan, waffles and coffee,” I repeated. “I was a good cook, huh?” she asked me. Tears were just flowing now. “Yeah Nan, you were a good cook.”

I made Nan's lentil soup last night because we were missing her, our families, and Rhode Island. Whenever we feel this way, we try to make some type of Italian comfort food that our mothers and grandmothers used to make for us. Somehow, it always transports us, albeit briefly, back home.

I don’t know if this recipe is exactly like Nan’s, but she probably wouldn’t either. That’s because she never used a recipe. Ever. I have inherited that from her; I often don’t measure, and I rarely follow a recipe exactly (which is why you never want to come over my house for souffle).

Nan's Italian Lentil Soup
Makes 4 servings.
Print recipe only here.

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 onion, diced
2 celery stalks, diced
2 carrots, diced
1/2 cup lentils, brown or black*
2 bay leaves
4-5 cups water (depending on your desired soupiness)
1 8-oz can tomato sauce or diced tomatoes with juice
A good shake of red pepper flakes
Salt, to taste
About 2 Tbsp of chopped fresh basil
About 2 Tbsp of chopped fresh parsley
Some good Reggiano-Parmigiano and quality extra virgin olive oil

Heat oil in a large saucepan over medium heat. Add onion; sauté until golden. Add celery and carrots; cook 3-5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add lentils, bay leaves, and water; bring to a slow rolling boil for 15-20 minutes or until lentils are tender. If the lentils are absorbing too much of the liquid, then simply add more water. Once they are just about done, lower the heat to a simmer, and stir in the tomato sauce, red pepper flakes, and salt.

Remove the pan from the heat. And remove the bay leaves before serving! Add the fresh herbs now so they will retain their bright green color and fresh flavor. Top with lots of good grated cheese, and drizzle some quality extra virgin olive oil on top.

*TIP: I love Trader Joe’s black lentils. They have an earthier flavor and don’t break down as easily as brown lentils. They also create a thicker soup perfect for clinging to a nice piece of crusty Italian bread. Mmm.

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Broccoli Marries Pasta

The final featured vegetable of the cruciferous make-over (see Brussels Sprouts on Botox and Cauliflower Gets New Clothes) is broccoli. Otherwise known as the vegetable that our mothers made us eat so we could have dessert. That is until you’ve tried broccoli made by Jeff’s mother. I had the good fortune of having three wonderful role models for cooking: my grandmother, my mother, and my mother-in-law. Jeff’s mom, Dorothy, (also Italian and from RI) is an outstanding cook -- as it has been said: the woman could make sawdust taste good.

I first ate her lemony broccoli pasta with breadcrumbs when Jeff and I were dating (Jeff says it helped to convince me to marry him). This is an adaptation of her recipe. She’s really excited about this blog. She actually told Jeff that I have become her second favorite, right after Giada from the Food Network. If you knew my mother-in-law, then you would understand that that is a HUGE compliment!

Although I think fresh pasta is always superior to dried, it’s not always practical; I am actually all out myself, unless Jeff at the delicious C for Cooking would like to mail me some (see his 26 Jan. 07 post). But I do think dried pasta is fine for this recipe; I like Barilla. Just be sure to keep both the pasta and the broccoli al dente.

My husband just added, “Tell them not to skimp on the Grana Padano!" So, there you have it.

DOROTHY’S PASTA with LEMONY BROCCOLI, WALNUTS, and TOASTED BREADCRUMBS

Print recipe only here.

2 Tbsp olive oil
1 large garlic clove, finely chopped
2 shallots, thinly sliced
4 cups broccoli florets
About 2 tsp fresh lemon juice
A little bit of lemon zest
8 oz pasta (I used cellentani; I also like penne or rigatoni, 'cause the breadcrumbs adhere well to them)
½ cup walnuts, toasted
½ cup breadcrumbs, toasted
A few shakes of crushed red pepper
A few shakes of salt
A non-skimpy portion of good grated Grana Padano
A handful of chopped fresh parsley for garnish
Some good olive oil to drizzle on top

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Layer walnuts on a baking sheet, and bake for 10 minutes, until slightly golden and aromatic.

To toast the breadcrumbs, place in a skillet on the stovetop; slightly shake until golden and evenly toasty, just a couple of minutes. Remove from pan, so that the heat won’t continue to toast them.

Cook pasta in salted water according to directions.

Add olive oil to a skillet. Over medium heat, sauté garlic and shallots until slightly caramelized. Add the broccoli, lemon juice and zest, red pepper flakes, and salt. Cook for 3-4 minutes or until the broccoli turns a brilliant green and remains firm to the touch. Add your cooked pasta to the skillet with the broccoli mixture, and toss in the toasted walnuts and breadcrumbs.

Plate the pasta; sprinkle with a healthy dose of grated Grana Padano cheese and some fresh parsley. Finish it off with a drizzle of good extra virgin olive oil.
Makes 4 servings.