ribollita salad

real talk (does anyone say that anymore?): i love kale. i will refrain from going on and on with all the reasons i adore it so, and just state finally that it is my favorite green vegetable on this planet. everything you need to know about why kale is king veg are clearly illustrated here. its emerald frills are welcome in every savory dish i can imagine, but i think i like it best in a pure state: sauteed with garlic and lemon, or better yet - raw in a salad. yes, raw! when its inside-scrubbing powers are at their most potent.

to paraphrase my friend allison,
"even being in the same room as kale makes you healthier"

last thursday sister lauren and our pal annabell came over for dinner. before they arrived i started prepping a salad whose concept had occurred to me earlier while i was browsing this awesome food blog. one of the featured recipes on that site was for ribollita, a hearty and simple tuscan peasant soup. i ate ribollita constantly awhile back, when i worked for an italian cafe that makes consistently top notch stuff, including killer soups. you probably already know that white beans and kale are best friend ingredients, but they meld extra well together against the tomato broth-y backdrop in ribollita. i scanned the Food52 recipe and excitedly realized that all the necessary elements were already waiting in the fridge at home! but thursday was one of those spring preview days: warm and cheery and decidedly not a soup day. and then a little idea bubbled up from my cooking-brain, and there it was: ribollita salad!

the ingredients await their fate

note- when i make this salad again i will do one of a few things to improve it:
1. make the salad a full 24 hours in advance to let the marinating powers really take over.
and/or
2. seek out younger, more tender kale. 2 bunches of farmer's market lacinato kale in the summer will be just the ticket.
and/or
3. toss the kale with still-hot vegetable broth to wilt it ever so slightly (this is reflected in the recipe below).
as it was, the kale in this salad was still very raw by the time it was served, and kind of intense in texture. for true kale-o-philes such as ourselves it wasn't a big deal, but for the uninitiated, it might be a less pleasant chewing experience.

but otherwise, the end product was indeed a cold and crunchy version of the soup, just as i'd envisioned. this also made a monster batch, but was perfect for lunch for the next few days, as the dressing dutifully worked its magic on the tougher bits.

Ribollita Salad
~takes about 30 minutes, plus marinating time~
~serves 4-6, or lunch for days~

ingredients:
1 large bunch of kale, cut off the rib and torn or cut into bite sized pieces/ribbons
2 tomatoes
2 stalks of celery
2 carrots
2 shallots
2 cloves of garlic, minced
1 15 ounce can of white beans, drained and rinsed
4 tablespoons vegetable broth, warmed
1 tablespoon tomato paste, tomato juice, or the watery tomato stuff from canned tomatoes
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
the juice of 1/2 a lemon
salt, pepper, red pepper flakes and dried italian seasoning to taste
1/2 cup homemade breadcrumbs (do not use pre-made here! too sandy, blech)
parmesan reggiano (optional)

- put the prepped kale in a large salad bowl.

- heat up the veg broth, either in the microwave or on the stove top. while it's still hot, whisk in the garlic, tomato paste, vinegar, and lemon juice. add the olive oil in a slow, steady stream, whisking to emulsify best you can. season with salt, pepper, red pepper flakes and oregano/basil/marjoram. taste to adjust. if the dressing has cooled by this point, re-heat gently til medium warm.

- toss the kale with the dressing, making sure all the leaves are coated. cover with a lid or towel and set to the side. you want this to marinate for at least 30 minutes before eating. if you're making something else for lunch or dinner as well, now is a good time to start working on that.

- chop up the rest of the vegetables for the salad. if you want to get fancy and shred the carrots, or soak the shallots in cold water for a few minutes to tame their bite, go for it.

- prep the breadcrumbs. if you're making your own from a heel of stale baguette (bravo!), rub the bread with the cut edge of a garlic clove, then blast apart in the food processor. toast gently in the toaster oven or in a pan, til golden and fragrant.

- taste the marinated kale. add a splash more vinegar, or more s&p, or another secret weapon (caper juice? dry vermouth?) if you desire a bolder flavor. otherwise, toss in the rest of the vegetables and the beans. before serving, dump the breadcrumbs on top. for the dairy eaters, some shaved parm is called for here.


a craft beer in a frosty can is rarely out of order with dinner, and the citrusy crispness of the avery white rascal was a fine companion beverage to the kale salad, the roasted brussels with tempeh bacon (team Lauren), and red rice and root vegetables (team Annabell) that made up the vegan feast that we three sat down to. you know, if i'd been cooking and eating alone (as happens a bit more often now), i probably would have called the salad dinner and left it at that. but working in the kitchen alongside two other creative, confident, considerate cooks meant that while i was making my dish, other delicious things were simultaneously just happening. annabell even did the dishes! and for dessert, we watched pop videos on youtube...

love,
emily

evil twin

on a whim the other week, i brought a nice cache of fresh fennel back from the superfresh (goddamn, i miss the farmer's market). once breaking two lovely bulbs down, i realized it was just too much fennel for one dish. well, it would've been the perfect amount for tomato soup with two fennels, but we were in the midst of a spell of warm weather, and i was feeling kinda souped out.

so in the interest of diversification, i tried two very different approaches to preparing this licorice scented beaut. the first was a crunchy, tangy salad that plays the clean, citrusy flavors of grapefruit off the clean, sharp flavors of the fennel. a handful of thinly sliced red onion added a pungency which popped against a backdrop of tender lettuce leaves. i then dressed this pink and purple melange with a light shower of orange juice, mild honey, red wine vinegar and xvo. this salad brought a fierce brightness to the plate, which is just what a winter salad should do. it would be a great compliment to a rich entree of stew, pasta, or braised protein.


i reserved the other half of the fennel slivers for another night, which, in typical spring fashion, was as cold and rainy as the previous night had been warm and breezy. so, i decided to take a totally opposite direction, with an easy, fuss free recipe from the stellar The Essential NY Times Cookbook by amanda hesser. the fennel is steamed for just under ten minutes, and then sauced with a chile-infused olive oil, and a touch of salt and pepper. i lined the plate with a bed of arugula in a half assed attempt to squeeze some more greens into my diet.

i really love vegetables that are equally good cooked and raw, and fennel really wins in both cases. it's so hard to imagine when eating it in its sweet and crunchy raw state that it can also be transformed into a silky version of itself. these two wildly different treatments of fennel reminds me of that always enthralling narrative theme - the evil twin. like, the raw fennel salad is cheery, sweet and straightforward, while the spicy, steamed fennel is mysterious, rich, almost musky. ok, i'll stop personifying my food and just get on with recipe already.

Steamed Fennel with Spicy Olive Oil
adapted from The Essential New York Times Cookbook by Amanda Hesser
~takes about 15 minutes~

ingredients:
1-2 fresh fennel bulbs, trimmed and sliced thinly (i mean, really you can make this with as much or little fennel as you'd like - just adjust the amount of olive oil)
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
1-2 teaspoons crushed red pepper flakes, depending on how much spiciness you enjoy

- place the fennel in a steaming basket over a pot of gently boiling water. steam until tender, 5-7 minutes.

- in the meantime, put the olive oil in a small pot over a very, very low flame. after it is gently warmed, turn the heat off and swirl in the red pepper flakes. set this aside. if you are in the habit of making your own olive oil infusions, this would be a wonderful opportunity to skip this step entirely and use your ready-to-go flavored oil.

- when the fennel is done, plate it as artfully or messily as you care to. gently drizzle the infused olive oil over it, and sprinkle with a pinch of salt and pepper, to taste.

while you eat it, listen to this song and think about all the awesomely dangerous, selfish and lascivious things you would do if you had an evil twin.

love,
emily

brisk bisque

soft scarves, cute slickers, twirling umbrellas and humidity-inspired curls in your hair are great in theory, but sloshing through a torrential downpour at 8:30AM on the way to work is not. today was one of those mornings where it feels like the universe has conspired against you, and you'd give like ANYthing to just stay snuggled under the covers, hitting the snooze button until the numbers read double digits.

alas, when you are a grown up ("semi-grown up?" i never really know how to identify myself) with a full time job, this isn't really an option. you gotta face the rain, the crowds, the stuffy public transportation, and haul yourself to the office. when you get there, maybe you have the luxury of drying your socks off on the radiator:


there, that's a little better. i'll take a leap here and say that the food equivalent of putting toasty socks on cold, damp feet is a winter squash soup. there are many ways to prepare this classic autumn dish, and every last one of them feels nourishing. i always feel an extra sense of accomplishment when i use squash and root vegetables - they're kind of the misunderstood loser vegetables, but they're healthy, in season and unparalleled in the comfort department if prepared properly. and, usually priced at 99 cents per pound or below and complemented nicely by some garlic bread made from a forgotten heel of baguette in the back of the freezer, this is dinner on the cheap!

while these kinds of vegetables are often (wrongly, i say) associated with earthy aka dirt-y, less-than-desirable flavors or textures, the recipe below is smooth, rich and anything but spartan! this soup is like a pair of silk stockings, like an expensive perfume. even the word feels good in your mouth: "bisque." is it the "q" that makes it feel fancy?

Pumpkin/Winter Squash Bisque
~serves 6~
~takes 40 minutes~

ingredients:
1 tablespoon oil, butter, or margarine
2-3 pounds winter squash (cook's choice), peeled, seeded and chopped
1 yellow onion, diced
2 cloves of garlic, minced
2 carrots, peeled and diced
1 large potato, rutabega, or a few parsnips, peeled and chopped (optional)
2-4 cups of vegetable broth, depending on how thick or thin you want the soup to be
1 can of light coconut milk - make sure you shake it up to mix the cream and the water!
salt & pepper
mixed spices: this is kind of cool - you can steer this soup in any direction. some suggestions are sage + thyme + a bay leaf for a more traditional wintry profile, paprika + cinnamon + red pepper flakes for a spicier, more savory feel, or curry + cumin + garam masala for an indian flavor. start with a teaspoon or two and taste as you go. you can always add but you can't subtract!

- heat the oil in a soup pot over medium heat. add the onion and garlic, and cook for 3 minutes.

-then add carrots and root vegetables (if using) and saute until it starts to softens up, maybe 6 minutes. sprinkle these vegs with about 1/2 of your spice mixture.

- add the squash. stir it around with the satueed veg mixture and let it cook all together for a minute or two. getting the squash coated in some savory onion juices helps to deepen the flavor.

- add enough vegetable broth to the pot so that it almost covers the squash. raise the heat and bring it all to a boil.

- once it has achieved a boil, lower the heat to a brisk simmer, and cover. stir occasionally and after about 20 minutes, check the squash to see if it's soft. the more tender, the better.

- once the squash is almost falling apart, take the pot off the heat and let it cool down a bit.

- blast that sucker to hell with your immersion blender until smooth. or, puree it in batches in a food processor or blender, being very, very careful not to burn yourself or splatter soup all over your kitchen.

- stir in the can of coconut milk and watch the magic happen. what was just moments ago mere pureed vegetables is now a sexy pot of bisque.

- heat the soup back up. taste it for more spices, salt and pepper. a little hot sauce or lime juice stirred in can add some pop, too!

long neck pumpkin bisque (& a beautiful salad courtesy of Lydia M.)

stay cozy, ya'll.

love,
emily

truffle shuffle

always the stuff of epicurean lore, i've only ever seen fresh truffles from afar, sitting preciously under glass in a fancy market. the price tag made me gasp for air and i assumed the closest i would ever really get was the lovely bottle of truffle-infused oil that my friend larissa gave me for my last birthday. i will admit - a bit of the stuff drizzled upon some soup or to finish a risotto adds a wondrous, luxurious earthy flavor that's made a believer of me. ryan claims that truffles don't really have much flavor, and are just ghastly expensive hype restaurants use to wow their jaded customers. it is hard to tell with rare things sometimes if they truly are special and worth their exorbitant prices to attain. is it all just a matter of suspended belief on the part of consumers and the crafty marketing of retailers who pander to foodies? or is it real?

despite this philosophical quandary, it is true that a small container of real black truffles (1 oz, to be exact) lives in the bottom of our fridge as i write this. they are nesting in arborio rice, like three wrinkly turds. see?

this way, the rice absorbs some of the flavor for future use!

sis lauren brought some home from her new gig at one of philadelphia's finest food retailers, an extraordinary splurge, even with a 20% discount. so, like true kitchen royalty, for the past week we've been sprinkling and shaving truffles, like so many flakes of gold, on all kinds of unsuspecting and humble dishes: root vegetable soup, pizzas and pastas. and here goes nothing: the hype is real. these bizarre hunks of fungus make shit taste just amazing.

truffles work well, apparently, with simple clean flavors and only the smallest amount of truffle is needed to impart a whopping amount of its flavor. so we've truffed and truffed, and still have so much left. anyone have ideas about how to best use the remainder?

and, as a quick aside, i must attend to one important matter: it is widely known that the majority of wild truffles are sniffed out by trained dogs and pigs. to some very strict animal righters, this might not make them really vegan because of the animal labor involved. while i respect that take on things, it is not the one i subscribe to right now. i'm ok with the truffles labor industry, or at least, i can let it go. in fact, one of the articles i was reading earlier about truffles mentioned that many times, when the pigs find the truffles, they immediately eat them! oh, just imagine a disgruntled frenchmen throwing his cap to the ground and cursing "merde!" at the deliriously happy pig, chomping on its prize.

and finally, if you ever find yourself with your own little truffle cache, you simply must use some in this very seasonal soup, from my girl sally schneider's comfort repertoire.

Root Vegetable Crema
adapted from a new way to cook by sally schneider (adapted from a chef at chez panisse)

ingredients:

2 teaspoons fat (oil, margarine, butter)
1 medium potato, i just can't get enough yukon gold
1 small celery root, peeled and finely diced (3/4 cup)
1 medium leek, or one small onion, sliced (just the white part if using a leek)
2 small parsnips, finely sliced (1/2 - 2/3 cup)
2 - 4 garlic cloves
1 sprig fresh thyme, or a healthy pinch of dried thyme
a pinch salt (about 1/4 tsp)
a pinch sugar
2/3 cup water
3 cups broth, preferably homemade vegetable stock
freshly ground pepper, white pepper if you have it
tiny pinch of nutmeg
1/4 cup soy creamer, or real cream if you cook with dairy (optional)
part or all of a fresh black truffle, pounded into a paste with a mortar & pestle, or a drizzle of truffle oil

- heat the fat in a medium or large saucepan over medium heat. add all the ingredients down to water (not the broth) and bring to a simmer.

- cover and cook for 15 minutes, until most of the water has evaporated.

- add the stock, bring back to a simmer, re-cover and cover for another 15 minutes, until all the veggies are soft.

- puree with your immersion blender. don't stop until it's really, really smooth. or, if you are without, carefully puree the soup in batches in a food processor or blender. if you want to go the extra mile, you can strain the soup back into the pot for a more dramatically creamy texture.

- season to taste with salt, pepper and nutmeg. careful with the nutmeg - too much will really overpower the soup. add the soy creamer, and then the pounded truffle paste and stir until completely mixed into the soup.

- finito! a perfect winter soup in, like, 40 minutes.

love,
emily