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

beer soup for chilled bones

it feels like a very, very long time ago when i last posted, lamenting but also celebrating the finale of a really rad summer. when i wrote that (eep! over 2 months ago - sorry for the extended radio silence) autumn was just edging up against us, but now we're just full on in it: the late november cold rains and windy days. a mild day here and there helps to keep the spirits up, but soon we will have to accept the dawn of winter, which creeps a little closer with each day.

the only real respite from the hunched-shoulder, soggy boot trudge is a cheery yellow kitchen, with warm counter tops and sharp knives. dairy, dark beer, and vintage bowie are small but important accessories of comfort to usher in the premature evening without complaint. one recent particularly harsh weeknight, i decided to go all out and make a decadent recipe i'd been eying for awhile. this goldenrod soup - haughtier than pub grub but maintaining some working class charm - is a pretty quick dinner and you might already have all the ingredients nestled in your fridge. to our true vegan readers: i'm sorry, my more disciplined brethren, but this recipe is not for you.


a gently sauteed mirepoix creates a base for the vegetable broth, milk (heavy cream if you want to get real cray), and a medium bodied english beer. a literal heap of sharp cheddar cheese melts into something spectacular. the first bite of the finished product, silky and rich, is like a hug from the universe. hyperbole? make it yourself one night, as sharp rain pelts your window panes, and see if you don't agree.

Brawler Bisque extremely loosely adapted from a Gourmet recipe
~ takes about 40 minutes

ingredients:
1/4 stick of unsalted butter
1 medium white or yellow onion
2 carrots
2 stalks of celery
2 cloves of garlic, chopped
1 bay leaf
1/3 cup flour (all purpose, or any other kind to make it GF)
2 cups milk
2 cups vegetable stock (homemade is best)
1 12 oz bottle of english style ale (go local)
1 teaspoon mustard
4-8 ounces of shredded cheddar, totally depending on how cheese-ified you want the soup to be, plus the odds and ends of any forgotten cheeses in the drawer, also shredded
salt & pepper

- melt the butter in a soup pot over medium-low heat. dice up the onion, carrot, and celery and cook them in butter until tender and fragrant, about 5 minutes.

- add the bay leaf, garlic, salt and pepper. stir everything around in the butter for another minute or two. add the flour to the veg mix and try to coat everything in it. let it cook a bit more until the flour gets a bit golden. this is like making a little roux-on-the-fly.

- add the milk, veg stock, mustard and beer. simmer the pot, whisking from time to time. let the whole thing cook gently until the vegetables are softened and cooked all the way through. if you're using some carrots that have seen better days (like i did), they can be tough and might take a few extra minutes.

- turn off the heat and fish out the bay leaf. whizz up the beer-y soup with an immersion blender. if you need to use a regular blender, carefully transfer the soup in small batches, and may god have mercy on your soul.

- once the vegetables are well pulverized, turn the burner back on to a low flame. stirring all the while, add the shredded cheese one handful at a time. when all the cheese is melted, season with salt and pepper to taste.



pour yourself a glass of malty, strong beer to accompany your beer soup. i went with great lakes' edmund fitzgerald porter, a fine brew that fortifies the soul. the label on the bottle features a great ship battling a raging storm, not unlike us east coast kids battening down the hatches for the long winter ahead. i think if we can cook our way through it, we'll be just fine.

love,
emily

motto: friendship

lauren, halimah and i recently got back from a westerly sojourn to visit our dearest friend mary in houston,tx where she is studying architecture at rice university. besides little overnight trips here and there, this was my first real experience with a ladies only vacation. and let me tell you - it was amazing! we bonded deeply over serious confessions, embarrassing stories, nonsense jokes and sex talk. we stayed up late, whispered once the lights were out, slept in daily, traded accessories, shooed off male suitors in bars, and drove around listening to oldies.

but, perhaps most importantly, we ate and drank our asses off. from the high brow to the low brow, we left no culinary stone unturned. during a week when most americans are cursing themselves for their holiday indulgences, and swearing to do better this time around, our appetites took houston by storm. we scarfed trashy tex mex at chuy's, gorgeous waffles at baby barnaby's, light-as-a-feather gourmet pizzas at dolce vita, and simply perfect avocado tacos from the truck adjacent to possibly the best dive bar that side of the mississippi, the west alabama ice house.

my favorite meals, though, were the ones we prepared for ourselves in mary's tiny, charming kitchen. except for sunday brunch, we made breakfast each morning, small, balanced little meals, much like the ones i make at home before work. toast, coffee, yogurt, fruit.

there were a few lovely home cooked dinners, as well, usually preceded by a hasty trip to the nearby h-e-b for ingredients and beer. buying a 12-pack of cheap craft beer in a grocery store is such a succinct pleasure for a pennsylvanian. back at home base, we'd share the prep work with jangly tunes from the college radio station as our soundtrack. the fragrance from the simmering pot filled the small apartment, and a voice from the couch would pipe up, "what smells so good?" while i whipped up the salad dressing, mary would spread out her prized vintage place mats, and uncork the wine. finally, we would all sit down together, a tender ritual that recalled the glory days when we all lived under one roof in west philadelphia.

my favorite dinner was on saturday night. at that point, we'd been in houston for a few days and had all fallen into an easy groove with one another. there were still a few days standing between us and our departure, and if i stretched my imagination a bit, i could pretend that we'd never have to say goodbye. earlier that day, we drove out to galveston to rest our eyes on the gulf of mexico and explore the meager town. standing with my bare toes in the sand in early january, the wind whipping through the beleaguered palm trees, felt cinematic and intense.

as we returned to houston, restless from the sluggish highway traffic, we pulled off for late afternoon milkshakes from a charming diner. an hour later, overloaded on sugar and a bit regretful for it, we were all craving something inoffensive and clean for our pummeled palates. mary, who somehow always knows what's right for every occasion, suggested a fennel-studded tomato soup recipe from a homemade life, the beautiful memoir and cookbook from one of our favorite bloggers, molly wizenberg. lauren gifted me this book for christmas and i'd devoured nearly all of it on the plane ride from philly to houston just days before, so it seemed extra fitting. single handedly and with the grace of a true cook, mary put together the most splendid meal i've had in ages.

alongside the tomato fennel soup was a salad of lightly dressed bitter greens with apples and shaved aged provolone, a hunk of 3-seeded bread, and roasted cauliflower with a pungent, citrusy sauce. it was flawless. after the plates were cleared and the dishes done, we played rounds and rounds of our favorite card game, which became increasingly rowdy with each beer we drank. at some hazier point in the night, we popped a bottle of prossecco, and toasted to our love, which is especially appropriate in texas, where the state motto is "friendship."

Tomato Soup with 2 Fennels

from "A Homemade Life," by Molly Wizenberg

~serves 4-6 (generous helpings)~

~takes about 40 minutes~

ingredients:

3 tablespoons olive oil

1 yellow onion, thinly sliced

2 medium fennel bulbs, trimmed and thinly sliced (save some of the fronds for garnish)

4-5 cloves of garlic, finely chopped

1 teaspoon fresh thyme or 1/2 tsp dried thyme

2 28 ounce cans whole or chopped tomatoes

water

3/4 teaspoon salt

sugar, to taste

pepper and vinegar, to taste

- in a dutch oven or soup pot, heat the olive oil over medium heat. add the chopped onions and fennel, and sautee for 5 minutes.

- add the garlic, thyme and fennel seeds. cook, stirring occasionally, for another 5-8 minutes.

- if using whole canned tomatoes, crush them in a food processor, with your hands, or however else you'd like. if using pre-crushed, no need to crush further. in any case, add the tomatoes and their juices to the pot and stir everything together.

- fill one of the now empty tomato cans with water and add to the mixture.

- turn the heat down, and let the soup gently simmer, uncovered, for 40-45 minutes.

- when the fennel is very tender, and the tomatoes have reduced to make the soup taste full-bodied, it's done! add salt and pepper to taste. if the soup is too acidic for you, a pinch of sugar will mellow it out. if you want a little more bite, add a small splash of red wine vinegar.

- ladle into soup bowls, and top with a pinch of fennel fronds, and a dollop of yogurt or sour cream (optional, of course!).

- serve, very hot, preferably to a table of your best friends.

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

the other booch...er, boch

i just love squash. besides eating them raw, what can't you do with them? boil 'em, mash 'em, put 'em in a stew. the famed butternut, widely loved for its mellow, inoffensive flavor has sat proudly at the top of my list for quite some time. acorn squash, spaghetti squash, summer squash, pattypan squash, pumpkin -- they're all great in their own right, especially when prepared well, with plenty of salt, fat, and a touch of sweetness (maple syrup always shines here).

the other day, lauren brought a few small kabocha squashes back from her farm stand. i've heard nothing but good things about kabocha (from very, very trustworthy sources, no less). in fact, i once heard a local farmer scoff at the mention of acorn squash, replying, "i only eat kabocha squash." i figure you can't really argue with a farmer when it comes to matters of produce. you grow - you know.

so i was really excited about these kabocha (kabochi?), cute as can be:


i wanted to make a soup, and decided to go commando in the kitchen: no recipe! i made up one of my own that turned out really quite well, and i'm happy to share it here.

The Mighty Boch - dairy, soy and wheat free - holla!!

the ingredients, in order of use:

2 small to medium kabocha squashes, peeled and cut into rough quarters or sixths
2 carrots, peeled or scrubbed well, and cut in half lengthwise
1 medium yellow onion, quartered
1/4 - 1/3 cup olive oil (not extra virgin -- something with some body)
1/2 tsp. paprika
1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp. brown sugar
big pinch of coarse sea salt
black pepper to taste
1/3 cup walnuts
2 cups water or diluted vegetable broth, plus more to thin soup if needed
black truffle oil (optional)

- preheat the oven to 425 F.

- bring some water to a boil, then pour on top of the walnuts. you want these to soak for as long as possible. if you're using a buillon cube to make veg broth, the boiling water can be used to get that started, too. set that all aside.

- pour the olive oil into a shallow dish. mix in the paprika, cinnamon, sugar, salt and pepper.

- brush the spicy olive oil mixture onto the squash, carrots and onion. place these all on a lightly oiled or silpat-ed baking sheet.

- roast the hell out of 'em! 30 - 45 minutes depending on how well you actually let the oven preheat. the veggies should be really, really tender, easily pierced with a fork, almost falling apart.

- drain the walnuts.

- once slightly cooled, add the roasted squash and veggies to a saucepan and add the water or broth and dump in the softened walnuts. bring everything to a boil, then bring it down to a simmer. let it simmer for 10 minutes.

- turn the heat off and let the mix cool down some.

- either working in batches in a food processor, or using your immersion blender, blast the whole mix into a silky golden soup. you may need to add some water to thin it out.

- really take your time with this step, to get the soup really smooth. the walnuts can add some grit, but you can work through this with patience, unrelenting blending. the walnuts also add a lovely richness and protein, so put in the extra elbow grease.

- finish with a tiny swirl of truffle oil, if you wish. believe the hype: this really takes it to the next level. also, salt and pepper to taste.

- voila! kabocha soup's on.


love,
emily

soup of the summer

food trends are funny. like, why every so often - and all at the same time - do a bunch of magazines and websites start yapping about red sea salt, dulce de leche, or some piece of the pig everyone forgot about? does a grand gourmand from on high decree, "this will be the spring of garlic scapes," or "the summer of chervil?" more and more, it's as if the modern gourmet culture mimics the fickle nature of the fashion industry. and even though i know the fashion industry is a heap of tripe, meant to keep wealthy people spending, i kind of love it. same goes, probably without saying, for the food industry.

so earlier this summer, as i thumbed through glossies, passing by countless "five things to do with fresh tomatoes" articles (crazy right? like: slice, salt, pepper, eat, done.) and food porn centerfolds of sticky, juicy, BBQ, i noticed a trend emerging. white gazpacho - a chilled soup made with soggy bread, almonds, green grapes and cucumbers - was everywhere, from the new york times to vegetarian times to even oprah, matron to the masses. word has it, when oprah announces a trend or endorses a product, it truly has blown up. so it seems for white gazpacho, a slightly unsettling dish at first thought. i mean, to many diners, cold soup is already a bit of a hard sell, and usually what does sell it is vibrant, beautiful color and velvety texture. white gazpacho flaunts neither of these qualities, and furthermore, must live up to the superstar name of Gazpacho that it bears. i kind of just rolled my eyes and decided to let it past.

however, imagine my surprise when i stumbled across yet another white gazpacho recipe on one of my favorite food blogs, hot knives. if you haven't perused its virtual pages yet, i strongly suggest you put an hour aside and immerse yourself in this blog. the LA authors, evan and alex, have an easy, witty writing style, vegetarian diets, super creative ideas, and beer & music pairings for all of their recipes (cheese & music pairings for the beers they sample and review). what's not to love?

so now more intrigued than ever, i decided to bite the bullet. lauren and i had just been given a big ass bag of almonds from our mom (almonds feature heavily in this gazpacho and man, are they expensive), i bought some green grapes which i'd ordinarily never do, fired up the food processor and gave the soup of the summer a whirl.

no need to copy the whole recipe here, and let's give credit where it's due:
Grape Chowder on Hot Knives

i may have skimped a bit on the cucumber, and certainly did not let it chill for as long as suggested, but overall the outcome was good. while slightly gritty in texture and confusing in taste, it was not unpleasant either. in fact, it was a rich-but-still-refreshing little number that made a sophisticated starter for the tacos that followed. you know, i may even make it again next summer, after all the hype has died down, and the fanatical foodies are on to the next thing.

white gazpacho - the food equivalent of gladiator sandals?

tacos! lately i cannot get enough mexican food

the tacos that followed were standard, but awesome. i'm glad the soup wasn't the only dish, as it was not hearty enough to count as dinner. the tacos filling was simply fried spicy tofu, black beans, homemade salsa, avocado and cilantro. two slightly fancy details were a splash of tequila in the salsa, and the addition of day old coffee to the black beans as they simmered. who knows, maybe "caffeinated beans," will be 2010's next hot thing.

love,
emily

a delicate swirl

tonight emily and i (ok, mostly emily) whipped up a most satisfying rainy night dinner. as we prepared to plate our dishes, em mentioned "sorry this isn't the most spring/summery dish" and i said "that's ok, this isn't the most spring/summery night". and there it was.

finding ourselves with an abundance of apples, em had multiple burners going as she prepared curried carrot-apple soup with golden tofu cubes from jack bishop's a year in a vegetarian kitchen. i manned the sink and cleaned every last dish and also helped with some basic soux chef preparations (open the can of coconut milk, wash the romaine, etc.). we make a damn good team...


it's amazing what just two extra minutes can do to elevate a bowl of soup to a BOWL OF F-ING SOUP! a delicate swirl of coconut milk, a sprig of cilantro and a few well placed golden tofu cubes makes sitting down to dinner on a sticky, wet, rainy thursday night feel like magic.

belgique tragique

as part of the 2009 philly beer week, the belgian cafe hosted a 4 course vegan dinner, paired with beers from high & mighty beer company. being healthy young people who love beer almost as much as we love vegan food, we called the belgian cafe last week to RSVP and were like "we're so there!" this event, which we'd been psyching ourselves up for for many days, was last night. team VR (including our esteemed friend and long time veeg queen halimah) arrived to the bustling cafe with parched throats and rumbling bellies, ready to be wowed.

not to be total ingrates, but wowed we were not. the beer was pretty solid across the board, though the high & mighty brew master will shelton, who introduced each of his beers throughout the meal, had a weird chip on his shoulder about how "big" (read: high alcohol content) american craft brews are. get this: part of his mission is to make beer with super low alcohol content. yaaaaaawn. i say, if you can sip slowly on only one or two beers and get a decent buzz going, right on! people in my position (low on cash), want awesome tasting beers to be extra boozy because we can only afford a few at a time! anyway, maybe it's just generation gap or something; it doesn't really matter, it just rubbed me the wrong way.

regardless, the beer was miles ahead of the food offerings, but let's take a look course by course:

first course
the drink: beer of the gods, a light, floral beer made with german yeast. it was a nice, drinkable beverage to start with.

the food: white bean and sage dip with pita. a safe standard, but touted robust flavors. the presentation, on the other hand, was on a 5th grade level. who wants to eat off dirty, wilted lettuce?


second course
the drink: novar red, a hoppy sour beer. the brewman said it was an "american twist on a flemish sour." the first whiff was reminiscent of cherries. the first hit of the sip had an almond extract feel, followed by a deep, malty, almost vinegar-y strangeness. i rather enjoyed it but i think my compatriots did not. a direct quote from halimah - "this is what the salad would taste like if it was juiced and turned into beer."

the food: spinach salad with roasted grapes (in my opinion, they were wrinkled but had no roast-y flavor), black olives, and balsamic shallots. this was a really boring salad. maybe i'm just spoiled, but there was nothing fun going on on the plate. presentation wise, it looked like someone had literally flung a handful on the plate and sent it out of the kitchen. it wasn't even worth photographing.

third course
the drink: st. hubbins abbey. this was my favorite beer of the night! it seemed pretty loyal to other dubbels i've had, but had these cool notes of cantelope. i could've drank many, many glasses of this.

the food: indian spiced tomato vegetable soup. this was also my favorite of the night! delicate spiced tomato broth with lots of chickpeas and vegetables, it reminded me of a soup-y version of chana masala. delicious!


fourth course
the drink: home for the holidays. this was a dark, syrupy ale. i wasn't crazy about it, but rich, ultra malty beers aren't usually my go-to.

the food: tempeh mushroom stew with roasted brussel sprouts over basmatic rice pilaf. this was the biggest disappointment of all. i'd really hoped that the entree would blow it out of the water, but instead, it just blew. i've had better food from lunch carts, and i'm not just being a brat. the tempeh was in tasteless cubes, there was no seasoning on the vegetables. i feel like i might cry a little just thinking about it. i've had some incredible food from the belgian cafe kitchen, but this, my friends, was a resounding C-...and not worth wasting the battery power of my digital camera to document.

dessert
a beer float! vegan vanilla ice in two headed beast beer. the beer was super dark chocolate-y and bitter, and a bit hard to stomach after all the other food and beer we'd ingested. but it was good.

and that was it. the plates were cleared, we each pitched in $45, and i think we all felt a little lost. on the one hand, we had a lovely three way friend date, and it was fun being exposed to some new beers. it's so awesome for a restaurant to have a vegan dinner as part of beer week, and i don't want to slam it too hard but on the other hand, the food was not special, or even really that good.

should we have just gotten a PBC mixed case and whipped up an infinitely better 4 course meal at home? i hate to say it, but maybe so.

love,
emily

kitchen alchemy: trash into gold

i love making soup, be it a spoonful of red miso dissolved in hot water with a handful of spinach thrown in, or a complicated multi-step, multiple hour long recipe with a foot long ingredient list. soup is rad because you can eat tons of it and not get too full, and because it warms up your body and makes you feel safe. soup is rad because you can make a monster batch of it and eat it all week long, and unlike most leftovers, it actually gets better as it sits idly in your fridge. it's magic! no, actually it's science, and this is the dime store explanation: as soup gets older (not too old, mind you -if it smells funny, it might be time to toss it) the starches in it break down into sugars, so the flavor deepens and the texture gets richer.

dude, it's a huge cop out to use bouillon cubes or packaged vegetable broth when making soup. you can't really say a soup is made from scratch when the broth is a processed, sodium bloated dry cube. even using the fancy vegan kinds just always made me feel like sort of a faker. and please understand, i am not judging anyone who uses bouillon as a shortcut - in fact, and i'll admit it now to the world, that's all i have ever used. i don't feel particularly proud of that, but i can really be a sucker for convenience. no more! the time has come to evolve as a cook, and mainly inspired by my friend/co-worker/jam master janina, i recently embarked on the journey known as making your own broth.

there are a lot of cooking projects out there that seem really intimidating until you actually just do them. perhaps this struggle extends into life outside the kitchen as well...it is so easy to build things up in your mind until they are bigger than you, bigger than your will, until they mock you with cartoon monster laughter. and as i've so often realized (and yet, so often seem to forget), once you turn to face these things with some steely resolve, they aren't such a big deal after all. for instance, i used to wish desperately that i could make homemade seitan, assuming for some reason that i wouldn't be able to do it. and then one day, i just went for it, and it was super fun and easy and i never bought seitan from the store ever again. i used to proclaim that i "sucked" at baking, and hated how precise you had to be to make it work. then i started reading recipes more carefully and taking some chances, and started stocking the kitchen with higher quality baking ingredients. voila! muffins, scones, pies, cookies - now i make them all with little anxiety or self doubt.

so, vegetable stock was one of those intimidating things for me until janina broke it down: put a bunch of vegetable scraps in a pot with some water, spices and salt, and simmer the hell out of it. cool, strain, and that's it. that is it! for a week or two, every time you cook, save all the carrot and potato peels, onions and garlic paper, leek tops, squash guts and all the other veggie odds and ends that you normally trash or compost. i put mine in a big plastic container in the freezer, but you can use a plastic bag too. then, when you know you'll be home for a few hours, alchemize that shit into pure gold. i started my batch off with half an onion chopped sauteed for a few minutes with olive oil, mixed peppercorns, some bay leaves and a few pinches of dried rosemary. then i literally dumped my cache of veg scraps in (you have to use kind of a big pot), poured enough water in to cover the mess, and topped it off with some sea salt. i then brought it to a boil, turned it down to a simmer and let it do its thing for about 2.5 hours. what happens is the liquid vastly reduces, and the vegetables cook down into mush, imparting all their flavor crystals and vitamin power into the remaining water. i let it cool for awhile and then strained it into a container. i didn't mess with cheesecloth or any of that, just used a normal colander and that was that. now i have tons of vegetable stock (for the long term, i froze some in an ice cube tray), that will lend the delicious taste of victory to all the soups and sauces i'm going to make in the coming month. yes! yessssssss.

janina writes for a cool blog calls isgreaterthan, and back in november, did a super straightforward post about homemade vegetable stock. it really demystifies the process, and makes you feel like "yeah, i can do this." read it here! making stuff yourself instead of buying it from the store is maybe one of the greatest feelings there is, and kids, i'm riding high.


love,
emily

lunch a trois

lunch today for 3 hungry kids (lauren, myself & burt, a rad friend visiting from the west coast) was, fittingly, three small sides. lunch makes most sense to me when it's an amalgamation of dishes cobbled together from the fridge - leftovers, frozen bread reborn as toast, salad, dips, fruits, etc. today, we feasted upon homemade seitan sausages (AKA "snausages") and stir fried shiitakes on greens with tangy lemon dressing, tempeh salad on kalamata olive toast, and pasta fagioli (courtesy of new housie tony - he scores again!).



i wish more restaurants and cafes would offer lunch this way. you know, like a menu of twenty sides with the option to pick three or four to make a nice rounded out plate. that's how the vegan luncheonette (i can't link to them b/c they don't have a website, so this will have to do) did it, why can't more places figure it out? until then, i'll be rocking the 1 p.m. lunch block with friends at the dining room table, sunlight streaming into the kitchen, the halo benders on the stereo...

love,
emily

dinner at momma's

last night, lauren and i drove to maryland (we still call it delaware) to have dinner with our mom and her husband kevin and with our grandparents who were visiting from yonkers. hardly 5 minutes through the door, i destroyed a snack of homemade hummus and pletzels (more on these later...like when we get the recipe from grandma). then we sat around and had cozy present exchange time. around 8 we cracked a bottle of champagne, toasted to 2009, and proceeded with a three course feast!

we started with a shiitake and scallion soup adapted from the candle cafe cookbook. i actually prepared this dish the previous evening and it was ridiculously simple. basically you just soak an ounce of dried shiitakes for half an hour (this makes the broth), then add some fresh shiitakes, a couple splashes of soy sauce and a bunch of scallions and simmer briskly for another 30 minutes. i also added some arame seaweed, and finally spiked the broth with rice wine vinegar, cayenne pepper, hot sauce and white pepper. it was mild and very, very mushroom-y.

the next course was one of my favorite dishes of all time. you see, my mom's husband kevin is a great cook, specializing in the szechuan style of chinese cuisine. the man can make a mean cold sesame noodle...creamy, spicy, and just perfect, i am infatuated with them. some time back when he and my mom first started dating, he made a big batch of these and instantly won me over. i hope and pray that one day he will share the secret technique with me so that i can make them literally every day. behold these golden sesame threads (two thirds devoured):

the entree was another kevin specialty: orange sesame glazed tofu and peppers. the smoke alarm went off four times as the wok sizzled loudly over a super hot flame. we peeked over his shoulder at the dancing fire, oil and tofu, as lauren sang a little mantra, a la Unk "now wok it out, wok it out..."

as far as i can tell, this is the way it goes: get the wok oil (peanut oil!) super hot, and rock those tofu triangles in batches until crisp friedness has been achieved. lay them on paper towels to let them rest and cool. the green peppers and scallions get a quick tour de wok, followed by sliced ginger, orange peels, and dried hot peppers (totally edible but not for the faint of heart). then everything gets thrown back in and doused with the OJ sesame glaze. once it's all coated and shiny, serve with a mountain of white rice and attack with chop sticks.

by the end of the meal, i was kind of too full to move but happy as i'll ever be. i'm tempted to vow to never go to a crappy chinese restaurant again, so unholy it is to compare greasy broccoli or salty bean curd to the light, perfectly seasoned dishes we savored at the table that night...