Archive for the 'one dish' Category
Back in December when I was bedridden with a back that capsized on the day of our cookiepalooza, which resulted in Mike bringing up Oreo truffles and shortbread at hour intervals, I started to fantasize about big salads, and would have paid $100 to anyone who delivered a hefty dose of kale.
I started flipping through food sites and blogs, looking for pictures of green things. Guys, I had it bad. I bookmarked this kale and quinoa salad with cranberries and feta, and swore I’d make it the minute I could stand at the kitchen counter again. I didn’t of course, and then it was Christmas, and the new year, and now February. So today, amongst it all, I made it for lunch. No biggie.
The great thing about a quinoa salad – besides its obvious deliciousness and ability to transform hard core leafy greens like kale – is that you can keep it in the fridge and have something great to dip into at any time without any mental effort. For days when your brain is otherwise occupied.
Although you can cook quinoa like rice -in a rice cooker, even- I like to cook it like pasta, in a pot of water, and strain it and return it to the warm pot to steam. Adding a handful of dried cranberries helps plump the fruit while absorbing excess moisture, as does a tea towel draped over the pot to absorb the steam. This guarantees fluffy quinoa.
The recipe – inspired by Dorie Greenspan’s chard stuffing – called for pine nuts, which cost about as much as platinum these days. Although I have a half a small bag in the freezer left over from some recipe or other, I’ve been coming up with substitutes, not wanting to waste the precious bitty things. But it occurred to me it would be an even more colossal waste to have them linger into freezer burned oblivion, only to be tossed out 10 years down the road.
And so I carefully unwrapped and shook out some pine nuts to toast in the toaster oven. I may have counted them, just to be fair. I gingerly set it on “toast” and ran to quick check my email.
Walnuts it is!
This is simply dressed with olive oil, salt and pepper, and a squeeze of lemon – but it would be fab with a simple balsamic or red wine vinaigrette.
Kale and Quinoa Salad with Cranberries and Feta
Adapted from Beyond the Plate, where it was inspired by Dorie Greenspan’s Chard Stuffing. Quantities of each ingredient are up to you, of course – adjust each according to your taste.
1 cup quinoa, rinsed and drained
1/3 cup dried cranberries
olive oil, for cooking
1 medium shallot or a small chunk of purple onion, peeled and thinly sliced
1 small bunch of kale
salt and pepper
pinch dried chili flakes (optional)
1/2 cup crumbled feta
1/4 cup pine nuts or 1/2 cup chopped walnuts, toasted
a squeeze of lemon (optional)
In a medium pot of boiling salted water, cook the quinoa for 12-14 minutes, until just tender and the germ separates, making a little curly Q. Drain well in a fine sieve, then return to the pot (off the heat, but still warm), add the cranberries, cover with a tea towel and the lid, and set aside to cool.
In a medium skillet set over medium-high heat, heat a drizzle of oil and sauté the shallot or onion for a couple minutes, until soft. Remove the tough ribs from the kale, stack the leaves and thinly slice them. Add to the pan and cook for about 5 minutes until wilted. If you like, add a small splash of water to the pan to create steam, and cover for a few minutes. Season with salt and add a pinch of chili flakes, if you like. If you added water, remove the lid and cook until the moisture has cooked off.
Add the kale to the quinoa, along with the feta and pine nuts or walnuts. Drizzle with oil and season with salt and pepper. Add a squeeze of lemon, if you like. Toss again and serve immediately. Serves 4.
February 02 2012 | grains and one dish and salads and vegetarian | 15 Comments »
Wait – don’t go. Hear me out.
Last week I made a resolution to use the food I have in my kitchen, rather than go shop for more, deciding what’s for dinner depending on my mood or the (near-constant) desire to try something new. I go for milk and eggs and come home with bags full of whatever was inspiring or on sale at the time, and then can hardly cram it into my cupboards and freezer. I think this is pretty typical, considering the fact that walk-in pantries and chest freezers are standard issue in most houses.
I hear a lot of people refer fondly to their fridges as that place produce goes to die. And it’s true – in North America (Canada very much included) it’s estimated that we throw out 40-50% of the food we buy. Half! Can you imagine the spending on groceries that takes place across the country on a daily basis? And that half of those purchases are tossed out? (Or composted, but still.) Besides the actual food waste, consider how much time and energy went into growing or producing all that food, transporting it, stocking shelves, even driving to the store to buy it. And it winds up tossed. A study last year estimated the annual cost to be $27.7 billion. Billion! That pipeline project everyone is talking about costs a measly $7 billion in comparison.
Alright, I’ll get to the point. Didn’t mean to get all preachy.
So what do you do when someone brings over a hunk of caraway Gouda so big it’ll keep you in cheese and crackers for a month? And you can’t do grilled cheese because of your six year old’s reaction to little bits in his cheese? You turn to the all-knowing intra-net and search for something to make with caraway and cheese in it. You go to Epicurious and punch in “Gouda” and “caraway”. If you’re lucky, something will pop up that makes use of that enormous bag of coleslaw you bought with the best intentions.
To make this quiche you cook a few slices of chopped bacon with an onion, and when the bacon is crisp and its fat rendered, you throw in a few handfuls of cabbage and cook it down. (A great use of bagged coleslaw – especially the last of the bag, which tends to get wilty.) When I did this, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world – like a fantastic warm bacon slaw. But as it cooked down it became more dense, as cooked vegetables do, and it made a great filling. Especially with the odd thin shard of carrot and purple cabbage – colour is always a good thing.
So yes, a cabbage and caraway quiche is an entirely unlikely thing to ever come out of my oven – but at the same time, MacGyvering my way through dinner pushed me out of my comfort zone, and the results were totally delicious. So good, in fact, that I made one of these a week ago, and then another this morning for my sister’s birthday brunch. The reaction around the table? “What’s in this? It’s delicious!” It wasn’t as easily identifiable as your typical ham & cheese or spinach quiche.
But you know how everything you make just sort of tastes like everything else you make? That you have your spice roster and don’t often edge out beyond it? Caraway is not typically a part of my culinary palette. It’s a fine spice, I have nothing against it, I just don’t really use it. I don’t think I could even locate any among the vast number of small jars and baggies that make up my spread-out spice non-rack. But with the creamy cheese and smoky bacon, it totally worked.
I’m not a quiche maker. But frittata tends to be my fall-back leftovers-user, and they aren’t much different. I contemplated skipping the crust, but then recalled how much I love a good wedge of quiche in a restaurant, and I went for it. I do love a good pie crust, and that you can get away with a slightly softer, more velvety filling when you’re not relying on it to hold its own.
Gouda, Coleslaw & Caraway Quiche
I swapped caraway Gouda for the gruyere and caraway seed in the recipe – you could of course do either. Adapted from Bon Appétit, December 1990.
4 bacon slices, chopped
1 medium onion, chopped
2-3 cups coleslaw or shredded green cabbage
3 large eggs
1 cup half & half or milk
1 cup grated Gouda or Gruyère cheese (or more, if you like – just wing it)
1/2 tsp. caraway seeds (optional)
salt & pepper
1 9″ deep-dish pie crust
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line your pastry crust with foil and pie weights (if you have them) and bake for 15-20 minutes, until pale golden. Remove the foil and weights and turn the oven up to 375°F.
Meanwhile, cook the bacon in a large heavy skillet over medium heat, add onion and cook until the bacon is crisp and the onion is tender. Add the coleslaw and cook until it wilts and all excess moisture evaporates, 10-15 minutes
In a medium bowl whisk together the eggs, half & half, cheese, caraway seed (if you’re using it) salt and pepper. Spread the cabbage mixture into the crust and pour the egg mixture overtop. Bake until filling puffs and starts to brown, about 40 minutes. Serve warm or at room temperature.
Serves 8-10.
January 22 2012 | eggs and one dish | 16 Comments »
Aside from the idea that this is a fresh and spanking-clean new year (really, what’s different between this Tuesday and last, besides a new calendar on my wall?), mostly in January I want to eat more cleanly, with more of the veggies I’ve so woefully neglected for the past month or two. Since around Halloween, really, and then there were those almost two weeks spent in Jasper, where there was salad, but mostly morning pastries and buffets and martinis and chocolate and cheese. And then it was winter and Christmastime, and wait.. I’m not coming up with a valid excuse here, am I?
And today, back at my desk and forced to answer phone calls and emails, and open that stack of mail from the bank and Revenue Canada (which they always seem to send on Fridays or right before Christmas, or on the Friday right before Christmas), I feel like I should also be eating my broccoli.
And so I took it as an opportunity to try a recipe I’ve been meaning to give a go – and served it in shallow dishes I unearthed from the basement (in an attempt to declutter) that were a wedding gift in 1994 and I’ve maybe used once. I’m going to use them now. 1994!! The New Year is supposed to be all about newness and possibility, but every year it winds up being a bit like a mini midlife crisis.
In a good way, of course. I’m happy to be here, to be ringing in 2012 with those I love, even though technically I was in the bathroom at midnight. The collective lull of the holidays allows enough of a breather to take a look at life and which steps to take (or not) next. What I want to spend my time and money and energies on. To talk myself out of starting too many new things, or to be too fearful of same. And to be thankful that we get the luxury of choice.
Would it be too much to ask for a longer lull, so I can start the new year being able to see my desktop? And although I still wonder why eating broccoli should be so much more virtuous than eating shortbread, at least it makes life seem more tacklable when you feel less Jabba-the-Hutt-ish.
If you time it right, the rice will cook in exactly the same amount of time as the broccoli and shrimp take to roast. If you go ahead and toss the lemon wedges onto the pan too they’ll get all roasted and squishy, and you’ll be able to squeeze far more of the juice and soft pulp over your shrimp and broccoli, if you like that sort of thing. Be warned roasted lemon wedges have more give than a raw one; Mike doused the front of his AC/DC T-shirt in lemon guts.
Spicy Roasted Shrimp & Broccoli
Adapted from The New York Times and The Wednesday Chef by way of Everybody Likes Sandwiches – this recipe gets around.
2 large heads of broccoli
3-4 Tbsp. canola or olive oil
1/2 tsp. ground cumin
1/2 tsp. ground coriander
1/2 tsp. chili flakes
salt & freshly ground black pepper
10-20 large raw shrimp, shelled and deveined
1 lemon, zested and then cut into wedges
Preheat oven to 425F.
Toss the broccoli with about 2 tablespoons of oil, the cumin, coriander, 1/4 teaspoon of the chili flakes, and half the salt and pepper. In a small bowl, toss the shrimp with the remaining chili flakes, salt and pepper, olive oil and the lemon zest. Cut the lemon lengthwise into quarters.
Spread the broccoli out on a parchment-lined rimmed baking sheet, add the lemon wedges if you like, and roast for 10 minutes. Add the shrimp and cook for 8-10 minutes more – just until the shrimp are opaque. Serve over rice, with a squeeze of lemon. Serves 2.
January 03 2012 | one dish and seafood and vegetarian | 28 Comments »
I made dinner again. It was a chicken roasted in a pot. Again, something that seems simple and obvious and yet I was drawn in to the hominess of it – I fell for it like an afternoon advetorial, strapped into my WestJet seat and watching the Food Network on the back of the seat in front of me.
I admit I’m preoccupied with the thought of the crispy skin that comes on a roasted chicken. It’s kind of the best part. Then again, tossing a chicken into a pot (on top of a chopped salad of onions, carrots and celery) and baking it with the lid on ensures incredibly juicy meat – so if that’s what you’re after, this version is about as foolproof as it gets. You can peel off the rubbery, fleshy skin and feed it to the dog. I’d prefer to not share the “after” photo here; it’s not enticing.
So what Michael does is he returns the pot to the stove, sans chicken, and tosses in cherry tomatoes and spinach to wilt down in the juices along with the carrot and celery that have already cooked with the chicken. Good idea.
I admit Mike was a little more enamored with this part than I was – it seemed a little soupy to me, and so the next night I shredded the chicken and returned it to the pot and turned it into somewhat of a soupy chicken stew. It worked.
Which, reading the end of the recipe now, it turns out was the whole point to begin with.
Chicken Roasted in a Pot
adapted from Chef Michael Smith
a couple onions, peeled and chopped
a head of garlic, cloves separated and peeled
a couple celery stalks, chopped
a carrot, peeled and chopped
salt and freshly ground pepper
a few sprigs of fresh rosemary, tarragon, oregano or thyme – if you have them
a bay leaf or two
a whole chicken
a couple handfuls of spinach or chard, torn
a couple handfuls of cherry or grape tomatoes
Preheat the oven to 300°F.
Toss the onions, garlic, celery and carrot into the bottom of a heavy lidded pot and set the chicken on top. Sprinkle the lot with salt and pepper and toss in a few sprigs of rosemary or thyme or whatever fresh herbs you have, if you have them.
Cover with a tight-fitting lid and bake the chicken for 90 minutes or so, until the juices from the cavity run clear and the joints wiggle in their sockets. Remove the chicken and rest on a plate, covered with foil, for 15 minutes or so before slicing.
Meanwhile, set the pot over medium-high heat and bring the onion mixture to a simmer. Add the spinach and tomatoes and stir until the spinach has wilted and the tomatoes have heated through. Slice the chicken, removing all the meat. Toss the meat with the spinach and tomato mixture. Serve immediately.
November 23 2011 | chicken & turkey and one dish | 7 Comments »
Last week, someone tweeted me a link to Pam Anderson’s Cassoulet-Style Italian Sausages and White Beans from her new book Perfect One-Dish Dinners: All You Need for Easy Get-Togethers over at The Merry Gourmet. It was brilliant, really – and today, as it hovered around ten degrees with grey skies and a constant threat of drizzle, it seemed like the most perfect fall (sorry, it’s true) meal in a dish. It took approximately sixty seconds to assemble, and warmed the house as it roasted over about an hour. I love that – the smell of dinner cooking between school and dinnertime – especially when it’s something that goes really well with a glass of red. And extra-especially when it’s something good for us and exceptionally tasty – the juices all getting together to create a sticky mess of beans and soft tomatoes. This will become a staple around here this fall and winter.
A classic cassoulet is a big production in France, and isn’t typically the sort of thing you’d make for dinner on an average worknight. But this changes everything. All you do is tip a pint or two of cherry tomatoes into a roasting or casserole dish, toss in a few smashed, peeled cloves of garlic, lay as many sausages as you have people to feed (or a few more) over them, tuck in a few sprigs of thyme or rosemary, and drizzle some balsamic vinegar and olive oil over the lot. (The original calls for chopped onion too – go for it if you want.)
Pop it into a 425°F oven for a half hour to an hour – once the tomatoes start to split and release their juices and the sausages turn golden take it out and stir in a rinsed, drained can of white kidney beans (or 2 cups of beans you’ve simmered yourself).
My sister came in the door and proclaimed DOES IT EVER SMELL GOOD IN HERE! And it really did. And it tasted good. And it was fast (and yet slow – the best of both worlds, really), cheap, well-received by the masses. Looking forward to leftovers tomorrow.
Quick Cassoulet
Ingredients:
1-2 pints cherry or grape tomatoes
4-6 fresh sweet or hot Italian sausages
4 large garlic cloves, smashed
olive oil
balsamic vinegar
a few sprigs of fresh thyme or rosemary
1 19 oz (540 mL) can white kidney, navy or cannellini beans, rinsed and drained
Directions:
Adjust oven rack to lowest position and heat oven to 425°F.
Scatter the tomatoes over the bottom of a baking dish. Add the garlic, lay the sausages overtop, and drizzle it all with some balsamic vinegar and olive oil. Toss in a few sprigs of thyme and/or rosemary, and sprinkle with salt and pepper.
When the tomatoes have split and the sausages are golden, remove the dish from the oven and stir in the beans. Return to the oven for 20 minutes or so, until the beans are cooked through and the sausages are even more golden. Serve hot, with crusty bread and butter.
September 13 2011 | one dish | 26 Comments »
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