Heal Thyself...

Sometimes you have to learn how to say, "No." I have been over-scheduled this month; between Justin's birthday, Dan's funeral, our anniversary, running all over the city for Open House Chicago, and the endless grind of searching for and applying for jobs, I needed a break. And since I decided to throw a Halloween party next weekend as part of my initiative to ward off depression through socializing and entertaining, that break was going to have to happen this weekend.

I had been planning on going on a girl's weekend with some of my former coworkers, but what had originally been touted as a low-key retreat seemed to be turning into a wild bacchanal the further planning progressed. I knew I just wasn't up for any more craziness in my life, so I bowed out at the last minute in favor of staying close to home and spending some quality time with Justin. It turned out to be just what we both needed.

Earlier today, Justin and I took a walk around our neighborhood and strolled along the lakefront, stopping for a while to watch the waves and reflect on the fact that we had done the exact same thing on one of our first dates, nearly two years ago to the day. Then tonight, we took some time to make dinner together, something that we don't seem to do much of these days. With me being home during the day now, I either finish dinner before Justin gets home, or he makes it himself after work in order to give me extra time to work on job applications. We don't have many opportunities for collaboration these days, and it was nice to get into the kitchen together.

I had chosen a recipe for pumpkin lasagne for us, not only because both spinach and pasta were on sale at the grocery store but because we had several expired cans of canned pumpkin puree in our cabinet that needed to be used. In a fit of passion for Katherine's pumpkin muffins, I had gotten a bit overzealous in stockpiling pumpkin a few years back, and I wanted to be rid of the expired cans even though their contents were still perfectly edible. Since I already knew that I liked pumpkin as a base for pasta sauce, I figured that it would work equally well in lasagne.

Taking a cue from my old pasta with pumpkin recipe, I decided to add some spicy sausage to this otherwise meatless dish. I know, I know, we've been trying to eat less meat lately, but we've had more than a few random links of Italian sausage floating around our freezer for God-knows-how-long now (somebody forgot to label it with a date), and for the moment, clearing out the freezer is a bigger priority for me than experimenting with vegetarianism.

Ultimately, though the sausage worked well with the other flavors in the dish, I think it would have been equally good without it. The combination of warm, fall spices, with creamy pumpkin and sharp, salty Parmesan was definitely a winner. Two whole pounds of spinach made the dish feel healthy, almost enough so to overlook all the heavy cream and cheese. This was truly a perfect dish for a brisk, October night, even if it made rather a lot of food for two people. For this kind of lazy weekend though, I'm going to count that as a bonus as well -- more leftovers means less cooking, which sounds pretty good to me right now...

Pumpkin Lasagne

adapted from Food and Wine

2 tablespoons olive oil

2 onions, chopped

2 lbs. fresh spinach, chopped

2 1/4 teaspoons salt

1 teaspoon pepper

1 teaspoon dried sage

1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg

28 oz. canned pumpkin puree

1 1/2 c. heavy cream

1 1/2 c. Parmesan cheese

1/2 c. milk

9 no-boil lasagne noodles (about 6 oz.)

1 tablespoon butter

1. In a large nonstick frying pan, heat the oil over moderately low heat. Add the onions and cook, stirring occasionally, until translucent, about 5 minutes. Increase the heat to moderately high and add the spinach , 1 teaspoon salt, 1/2 teaspoon pepper, 1/2 teaspoon sage, and 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg. Cook, stirring, until the spinach is wilted and no liquid remains in the pan, 5 to 10 minutes. 

2. Heat the oven to 400°. In a medium bowl, mix together 2 cups of the pumpkin, 3/4 cup cream, 1/2 cup Parmesan, and the remaining 1 1/4 teaspoons salt, 1/2 teaspoon pepper, 1/2 teaspoon sage, and 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg. 

3. Pour the milk into an 8-by-12-inch baking dish. Top the milk with one third of the noodles, then spread half the pumpkin mixture over the noodles. Layer half the spinach over the pumpkin and top with a second layer of noodles. Repeat with another layer of pumpkin, spinach, and noodles. Combine the remaining 1 cup of pumpkin and 3/4 cup of cream. Spread the mixture evenly over the top of the lasagne, sprinkle with the remaining 1 cup of Parmesan, and dot with the butter. Cover with aluminum foil and bake for 20 minutes. Uncover and bake until golden, about 15 minutes more.  

Opa...

Recently, at work, my friends and I were discussing whether we would elect to have a personal chef, if it meant that they made all decisions about your food for you. The group was divided; some people  thought they would be relieved to be rid of the burden of cooking and didn't mind the thought of surrendering their freedom, as long as the chef made food that adhered to their general tastes and food preferences. The other half of the group was horrified by the thought of losing their autonomy over meal selection. They wanted to be able to run out and buy the ingredients to make whatever dish would satiate the craving they were having in that specific moment. 

I can't say I really fell into either camp; I like cooking for myself, even if it does represent a huge investment of my time, but I couldn't relate to the idea of cooking on a whim, and responding to cravings. My meal choices are almost always predetermined. I sit down once a week with the sale circular for my local grocery store and my Pinterest inspiration board and try to pick out whatever recipes look good at the time, and feature ingredients that I can get on sale. After I run to the store, we have those meals in the order of whatever ingredients I think will go bad first. 

Though I try to honor his requests, Justin's situation is even worse. He is subjected to whatever I've picked out for the week, and generally doesn't get very much choice about whether to eat it. Thankfully, he seems to like my cooking.

Tonight, the complex calculus of selecting recipes based on bargains led us to eating spinach and feta stuffed chicken breasts -- there was a great sale on spinach, and chicken was reasonably priced as well. I still had to shell out for some rather pricey feta, but we had all the other ingredients on hand, so it seemed worth a try, especially since both Justin and I are fans of Greek food, and spanakopita in particular. The filling reminded me a great deal of my beloved spanakopita recipe, so I had been longingly eying the recipe for a while.

Sadly, what works so well when surrounded by crisp, buttery phyllo dough did not translate well into a stuffing for chicken. Though the filling featured lemon and a healthy dose of salt, both flavor enhancers, the dish was inexplicably bland. Also, the chicken took forever to cook with so much filling, and it was so tough and stringy that it was rather unpleasant to eat.

Clearly, the next time I'm craving Greek flavors, I should reach in my freezer and defrost some homemade spanakopita. I'll just have to be sure to factor it into my planning for the week...

A Veggie Tale...

Considering my anti-vegetable stance, it shouldn't be surprising that we don't eat a lot of vegetarian meals around here. I wouldn't say that we eat a primarily meat-based diet either, it's just rare for us to have a meal that doesn't involve some animal protein, whether it be chicken, pork, fish, or beef. Justin, however, feels that we need to eat less meat on a daily basis (perhaps he has been reading Michael Pollan behind my back?), and because I love him, and like to take his eating preferences into account when I'm doing our meal planning, I've been trying to seek out more meatless recipes to try to fit into our dining rotation.

The first block of recipes to capture my attention featured quinoa, another request that Justin has made to be integrated into our diets. While quinoa is a grain, and carbs have always had a welcome spot on my plate, I'd never really gotten into quinoa before. I know, I know, it's a complete protein, it's full of fiber and essential nutrients, yada, yada, yada. The truth is, I had a disastrous experience the first time I ever tried making quinoa, and it managed to scare me off of making it again for years. 

Not long after I graduated college and became more interested in learning how to cook at home, I became enamored with 101 Cookbooks, a natural cooking blog by author Heidi Swanson. Though the vast majority of the recipes didn't appeal to me (all those vegetables and weird, whole-grain flours!), I loved her photography and the way she wrote about food. One day, I finally spotted a dish on her site that tempted me, for a cinnamon breakfast porridge made with quinoa. I had never made the grain before, but I was deep into an oatmeal obsession at the time, and decided to give it a try.

Being generally inexperienced at cooking at the time, and unaccustomed to cooking on a gas stove, when the recipe said to cover the pan and simmer the porridge, I made a fatal error by not leaving the lid open just a crack. The next thing I knew, the hot, milky quinoa had exploded over every surface of my kitchen, and I found myself scrubbing everything down for hours, lest some trace of milk be missed and start to go rancid. After that failure, I never wanted to make quinoa again.

Love, however, can move mountains, even one as stubborn as I. So when I saw a recipe in Food and Wine for pan-fried quinoa cakes with spinach, I decided to put it in my recipe queue, and I'm glad I did. It took some advanced planning, because the recipe had many components and needed to be chilled several hours before cooking, so we ended up making these over the course of two days. They were so delicious, however, that they were completely worth the effort. In fact, in the future, I think it would be simple to make a double batch of the quinoa/semolina/spinach mixture, chill it, form it into patties, and freeze them to have on hand for a quick meal in the future. 

The patties had a very pleasing texture, soft from the semolina but punctuated with chewy bits of quinoa. The spinach and shallots provided a nice, savory counterpoint, and the crispy panko coating was perfection. Since the flavors reminded me of Greek food, I would like to experiment with adding some crumbled feta to the mix, just to gild the lily a little. These were a perfect, vegetarian meal with a nice side salad, and I am already looking forward to having them again in the future. If all my vegetarian experiments turn out this well, I could see doing this meatless thing on a  more regular basis...

Golden Semolina Quinoa Spinach Cakes
adapted from Food and Wine

1/2 c. quinoa
6 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon minced shallot
10 oz. baby spinach
1 c. low-fat milk
3/4 c. finely ground semolina
1/4 c. grated Parmesan cheese
1 large egg, lightly beaten
1 1/2 c. panko breadcrumbs
3 large egg whites

1. In a small saucepan, combine the quinoa with 1 cup of water and bring to a boil. Cover and cook over low heat until the water has been absorbed, about 15 minutes. Lightly fluff the quinoa with a fork and cover it again.
2. Meanwhile, in a large skillet, heat 1 tablespoon of the olive oil. Add the shallot and cook over moderate heat, stirring, until softened, about 1 minute. Add the spinach and cook until most of the liquid has evaporated, about 5 minutes. Season with salt and pepper. Transfer the spinach to a strainer and let cool slightly; press out any remaining liquid and finely chop the spinach.
3. In a large saucepan, combine the milk, 1 1/2 cups of water, 1 tablespoon of the olive oil and 2 teaspoons of salt and bring to a boil. Remove the pan from the heat and gradually whisk in the semolina until very smooth. Cook over moderate heat, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon, until the semolina is thick enough to hold soft peaks when the spoon is lifted, about 7 minutes. Remove the semolina from the heat and stir in the quinoa and Parmigiano. Season with salt and pepper and let cool for 15 minutes.
4. Stir the beaten whole egg and spinach into the quinoa mixture and spread in an ungreased 7-by-11-inch pan; it will be about 2 inches thick. Let cool at room temperature, then cover loosely with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 4 hours or overnight.
5. Preheat the oven to 250°. Cut the chilled semolina mixture into 12 squares. Put the panko in a shallow dish and season with 1 teaspoon of salt. In another shallow dish, whisk the egg whites with 1/2 teaspoon of salt and 1 tablespoon of water. Dip the cakes into the whites and turn to coat, letting the excess drip off. Coat the cakes in the panko and shake off excess crumbs. Transfer to a clean baking sheet.
6. In a large skillet, heat 2 tablespoons of the olive oil. Add half of the cakes and cook over moderately high heat until golden on both sides and on the edges, about 6 minutes; adjust the heat as necessary to prevent the cakes from burning. Drain the cakes on a paper towel–lined plate, then transfer to a baking sheet and keep warm in the oven. Wipe out the skillet and cook the remaining cakes in the remaining 2 tablespoons of olive oil. Serve hot.

Soup for the Soul...

As we enter the last month of the year, I’ve been thinking about my New Year’s resolutions, and how well I ended up fulfilling them. In January, which simultaneously seems like a lifetime ago, and just yesterday, I resolved to try more new recipes for food other than desserts, and to carry on with my local church architecture project. Although I didn’t accomplish either task to quite the extent that I had planned, I made better progress on the first resolution than the second. 

I only made it to three Chicago churches this year, and I only had time to write about the first one (the other two posts will come eventually, they’re just languishing in blog purgatory until I have more time.) I made up an itinerary to see the majority of the ones remaining on my list in one day, but Dad wanted to go with me, and between his summer golf schedule and dedication to watching his beloved Fighting Illini play terrible football all fall, we couldn’t find a day to go. Now that the weather’s turned miserable, it’ll have to wait for next year.

I made slightly better progress on the recipe experimentation front. I’d originally wanted to try at least one new recipe a month, and I only ended up trying ten new recipes instead of twelve, but I had about a 50% success rate in terms of finding things that I’d want to make again, which isn’t so bad. I must say, that signing up for Pinterest has helped my cause considerably. Being able to see a photo of each recipe in my queue instead of just a long list of links, or worse, a closed binder full of clippings, is much more inspiring. After all, they do say that you eat with your eyes first.

Tonight I made another one of the recipes saved to my “Things I Want to Cook” board – lasagna soup. I’ve been crazy for soup ever since it started getting cold, which included attempting a new potato/cheddar soup a couple weeks ago that ended up not being blog-worthy, and the idea of capturing the flavors of lasagna in soup was appealing. I ended up making a few changes to the original recipe, so some of the lasagna-like elements of the dish were eliminated, but the vaguely Italian soup I ended up with was still delicious, and certainly worth making again.

The original recipe called for a ricotta cheese garnish, which I substituted out for small pieces of fresh mozzarella cheese, since I absolutely abhor ricotta. In future iterations, I would puree the fire-roasted tomatoes before adding them to the soup, because the flavor was worth using them instead of plain crushed tomatoes (my usual choice for cooking) but I don’t like the texture of large tomato chunks. I would also consider adding some spinach, in order to up the nutritional content of the meal, since I find soup is often a good way to trick myself into eating vegetables that I wouldn’t otherwise find palatable.

This hearty soup is perfect for a cold winter’s day, and it’s hearty enough to fuel you for a day of playing in the snow (or shoveling, as the case may be.) I was glad I took a chance on this new recipe, and you will be too.

Lasagna Soup

adapted from A Farmgirl's Dabbles

1 1/2 lbs. hot Italian sausage

1 1/2 onions, chopped

4 garlic cloves, minced

2 tsp. dried oregano

2 tablespoons tomato paste

28 oz. fire-roasted tomatoes, pureed 

2 bay leaves

6 c. chicken stock

Parmesan cheese rind

1/2 package frozen spinach, thawed and drained

8 oz. short pasta (I used ditalini)

1/2 c. fresh basil, chiffonaded

1/2 c. Parmesan cheese

8 oz. fresh mozzarella cheese pearls

Heat olive oil in a large pot over medium heat. Add sausage, breaking up into bite sized pieces, and brown for about 5 minutes. Add onions and cook until softened, about 6 minutes. Add garlic and oregano. Cook for 1 minute. Add tomato paste and stir well to incorporate. Cook for 3 to 4 minutes, or until the tomato paste turns a rusty brown color.

Add pureed tomatoes, bay leaves, chicken stock, Parmesan rind, and spinach. Stir to combine. Bring to a boil and then reduce heat and simmer for 30 minutes. Stir in 1/2 c. Parmesan cheese until melted. Add uncooked pasta and cook until al dente. Do not over cook or let soup simmer for a long period of time at this point, as the pasta will get mushy. Stir in basil and season to taste with salt and freshly ground black pepper.

To serve, ladle into bowls and top with bits of mozzarella cheese. Add additional Parmesan cheese on top, if desired.

Olé...

Wanderlust is getting the best of me these days. I find myself trolling a variety of travel bargain websites on a daily basis, searching for deals, planning fantasy trips, and ultimately conceding that I can't afford to go anywhere. I love to travel, but I haven't made it more than 30 miles past the Illinois border in the past two years. Two years! That's unacceptable, really, but it appears there's nothing I can do about it at the present time.

Really, all I can do is pretend that I'm somewhere far more exotic than the Midwest, and in keeping with my New Year's resolution of trying more new recipes, I decided to accomplish this act of mental escapism through food. For inspiration, I looked to a cookbook that's been gracing my bookshelf since I was in college and found it on the bargain table at a bookstore -- The New Spanish Table by Anya von Bremzen. At the time that I got it, I poured through the pages, fresh off a trip to Spain and enamored with the food I'd eaten there, and dutifully dog-eared over a dozen recipes to try. However, I only made one of them (the variation on pastilla that I was considering making for Pi Day), before discovering that the techniques in the book were a bit beyond my skill set at the time, and that the ingredients called for in many of the recipes were more difficult to locate than I was willing to deal with.

Now that I'm older, wiser, more skilled, and more tenacious, I found myself ready to revisit The New Spanish Table. Going back and looking though the recipes I marked five years ago was an interesting exercise in how much my tastes have changed since then, and I found several more exciting dishes worth trying when I went through it with fresh eyes. However, the one I settled upon for this weekend was one that I had marked ages ago for a soup that I had never tried at the time, caldo gallego (soup in the style of Galicia, a region in the northwest corner of Spain), but which I thought had promise because it featured chorizo, and my love affair with encased meats goes way back. Recently, Justin and I tried caldo gallego for the first time when it was a special at one of my favorite local sandwich shops, Cafecito, and I thought it would be nice to recreate it at home.

The recipe was definitely more complicated than I usually bother with for soup -- it called for making homemade stock (I always use chicken stock from a box), and soaking dried beans overnight (I always use canned beans for the convenience factor, though every source I've ever read says they pale in comparison to dried beans). Still, I had a quiet weekend on the agenda and hadn't done any serious cooking in weeks aside from baking, so I decided to persevere.

I started the stock Thursday night, and ended up substituting ox tail for the veal shank called for in the recipe, since I couldn't find it at my grocery store but wanted a cut with lots of bones for their flavor and gelatin content. I'd never made stock before, but the aroma wafting from the pot of bones, ham hocks, bacon, and vegetables was so heavenly I felt compelled to mention it on Facebook. My chef friend, Darrell, saw my post, and intervened with some interesting tips that weren't included in the original recipe. Since I'd never tried stock-making without his advice, I have no way of knowing what impact it had on the finished project, but it mostly consisted of chilling the stock in an ice bath after it was done simmering to cool it as quickly as possible, and leaving the fat on top of the stock until I was ready to cook the finished soup. Both of these things are supposed to protect and enhance the flavor of the finished stock.

Thankfully, making the stock was the most labor-intensive part of the recipe. The next day, I dumped the beans I'd sorted the night before into a pot of water when I got home from seeing Grease, and today, I threw the rest of the ingredients in the pot at their appointed times and I was done.

Since Justin had been present when I first tried caldo gallego, it seemed only natural to share my first homemade batch with him. Even if it was a bit heavy for a finally-starting-to-get-warm spring day, we both really enjoyed this hearty soup with its rich broth, filling beans and potatoes, and spicy bits of smoky chorizo. Since it's a dish that's really better suited to the depths of winter, it will be a while before I make it again, but I'd definitely strongly consider it. I wouldn't say that it transported me out of the Midwest, but as a project, it did help distract me from my festering wanderlust.

Plus, it helped me overcome some of my trepidation surrounding homemade stock. There is something kind of magical (albeit kind of icky) about soup that is so full of delicious meat gelatin that it turns into a slice-able jello when it's cold. I'm not ready to eschew stock from a box just yet, since it's so convenient, but I'd certainly be willing to go the extra mile for special occasions.


Caldo Gallego
adapted from The New Spanish Table

1 lb. smoked ham hocks
1 lb. ox tails
6-7 oz. bacon (slab bacon if you can find it)
2 small onions
2 carrots, peeled
1 1/2 c. dried white beans, soaked overnight in cold water
8 oz. Spanish-style chorizo
3 medium Yukon Gold potatoes, cut into 1-inch cubes
3 c. shredded spinach

1. Place the ham hocks, oxtails, bacon, onions, and carrots in a large soup pot and add 3 quarts (12 cups) of water. Bring to a boil over high heat, skimming. Reduce heat to low and season with salt and pepper to taste. Cover the pot and simmer until the oxtails are tender, 2-3 hours.
2. Remove the onions and carrots from the broth and discard them. Remove the ham hocks, oxtails and bacon. Fill the sink with ice cubes and water, and place the pot of stock in the ice bath to cool, then put in the fridge overnight. When cool enough to handle, pull the meat off the bones of the ham hocks and oxtails, and tear into bite-size pieces. Chop the bacon and set it aside with the ham and beef. If you prefer not to use the bacon, simply discard it.
3. The next day, remove the solidified fat from the broth. Add the beans and bring to a boil, skimming. Cover the pot and simmer the soup until the beans are almost tender, about 1 1/4 hours.
4. Add the chorizo and potatoes and cook until the potatoes are almost tender, about 20 minutes. Add the spinach and simmer for 15 minutes more. Add the reserved ham, beef, and bacon, if using, and cook until just heated through. If you want the soup to be a little thicker, spoon out a ladleful of beans and potatoes, mash them, and return them to the pot. Using a slotted spoon, remove the chorizo from the soup, slice it, and return it to the pot. Taste for seasoning, adding more salt and pepper if necessary before serving.