Archive for the ‘Fall’ Category

A tian of rainbow chard, zucchini, tomatoes, mozarella

1 October 2014

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For a while I forgot about tian.

Despite childhood summers spent in the hills outside Aix-en-Provence, tians came into my life quite by happenstance in my early twenties, during a holiday with university friends. Someone made tian, and it was the best gratin I had ever tasted.

A tian is a shallow, ovenproof earthenware vessel from Provence, which has given its name to the gratin-style dishes cooked in them. That initial auspicious tian was probably not very traditional, with its dubious slices of very un-Provençal mozzarella. But in this case I am happy to forgo authenticity, because the mozzarella is what makes it so special.

It is the recipe I had been recreating since: vertically arranged slices of zucchini, eggplant, tomatoes, interlaced with mozzarella and Mediterranean herbs. Flavors meld into a heavenly mess akin to creamy gratinéed ratatouille.

For years I forgot about tians, but then the other day, finding these late-summer vegetables in my kitchen and, more crucially, a few balls of mozzarella, a tian propitiously came to mind. Dare I say that this adapted version is even better than the ‘original’?

Tian recipe
Regarding quantities: there should be a similar proportion of each vegetable and plenty of mazzarella, but the dish is unfussy and very adaptable. The important thing is that the vegetables squeeze snugly into the dish.

Rainbow chard

Zucchini

Tomatoes

Mozzarella (I prefer buffalo mozzarella which is extra creamy)

Garlic clove

Olive oil

Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Fresh basil and/or thyme

Parmigiano

Preheat the oven to 375ºF (190ºC).

Prepare the vegetables:

Wash the chard leaves, trim and discard only the end of the stems, then cut the leaves (with stems) into approximately 1/2 inch (1 cm) ribbons.

Wash, trim ends, (optionally partially peel), and slice the courgettes into disks approximately 1/4 inch (1/2 cm) thick.

Wash and slice the tomatoes, also into 1/4 inch (1/2 cm) disks.

Slice  or tear the mozzarella into pieces of a similar size.

Rub the ovenproof dish all over with the garlic clove to impart a subtle aroma. Drizzle a little olive oil all over the bottom of the dish.

Arrange the vegetables and mozzarella in a nice, regular, vertical pattern inside the dish. It’s a bit finicky with the chard but well worth it!

Wash and pick the herbs, chop the basil.

Season the tian with salt, pepper, and herbs, and sprinkle with plenty of freshly grated parmiggiano.

Pop into the oven for a good 35 to 45 minutes, until the dish is beautifully golden and bubbly. Mmmm.

The best (roasted) leeks

23 September 2014

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Leeks are in season again. After a long bountiful summer of tomatoes, zucchini, artichoke, beans and tomatoes, more tomatoes — fall vegetables are back at the markets and it’s the time to start roasting.

This is not only my favorite way to prepare leeks, it’s one of my favorite ways to prepare vegetables, period, and leeks are incredibly versatile and always a hit.

They are a stellar companion alongside simply grilled fish and lentils. Or together with braised carrots and a roast chicken. I make them with a good steak and very crispy roasted potatoes. The possibilities are endless.

Roasted leeks
This method is inspired by the wood-roasted vegetables from The River Cafe Cookbook Two (yellow). It is not exactly a recipe, and can be adapted to other vegetables and modified using different vinegars (apple cider, sherry) or perhaps lemon juice, and an array of herbs (rosemary, sage, marjoram, chillies…) depending on the mood. It is especially important to use very good quality ingredients.

Leeks

Balsamic vinegar

Red wine vinegar

Garlic cloves

Olive oil

Fresh thyme

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 375ºF (190ºC).

To clean the leeks, trim the roots at one end and darker leaves at the other, peel off the tough outer leaves, keeping only the tender green and white hearts, and thoroughly wash of any grit. Cut the stalks into 2-inch (5cm) pieces, then halve each of these lengthwise.

In a large bowl, create a dressing of sorts with the vinegars, crushed garlic, olive oil, and picked thyme leaves. As in a vinaigrette, the proportions should be approximately two thirds olive oil, one third vinegar(s). In this case I would do half balsamic/half red wine.

Toss the leeks in the dressing until well coated. Season generously with salt and pepper. Place the leeks in an oven-proof dish large enough to fit them in one layer. Slide the dish into the oven and roast for a good hour. Every 20 minutes approximately, gently toss the leeks. The leeks should be well caramelized and meltingly tender. Don’t hesitate to leave them in the oven a little longer than you think.

Wild food | Two recipes for a blackberry bounty

19 September 2014

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Purple smiles and ‘bloody’ hands.

One two three four — how many more? — gleeful children, laden arms outstretched, offering, loaded, big bowls of bouncing blackberries. The kitchen crowded with their relentless harvest.

It has been an exceptional summer for wild fruit. Not only in Brittany; British hedgerows are weighted with fruit.

And so we pick and pick. And now?

Blackberry pies, of course, and cakes brimming with blackberries.

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And these to capture summer’s flavor, puckery sweet, for more wintry days.

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Crème de mûre (Blackberry liqueur)
Makes about 3 bottles

1.2 kg just-picked blackberries

1 bottle pinot noir

800 g sugar

1 bottle eau de vie (fruit brandy)

Gently wash the blackberries over running water.

In a bowl, preferably high and deep, coarsely crush the berries with a pestle or masher. Pour the wine over the berries, cover tightly, and and let steep for 48 hours.

Pour the berries into a large saucepan. Add the sugar. Bring to a boil and cook over medium heat for a good 20 to 30 minutes.

Strain the juice through a fine mesh sieve.

Measure the volume and add the eau de vie at a ratio of 1/3 eau de vie to 2/3 blackberry juice.

Using a funnel, pour the liqueur into (clean) bottles, seal tightly, and store in a cool dark place. Let the liqueur sit for at least a month before using for the flavors to develop beautifully.

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Blackberry and lemon jam

1.6 kg just-picked blackberries plus 400 g

1.4 kg sugar

3 untreated lemons

Gently wash the blackberries under running water.

Using a small, sharp knife, cut a long ribbon of zest from one of the lemons.

In a large heavy saucepan, mix 1.6 kg of blackberries with the sugar, ribbon of zest and juice from one lemon. Let sit for a few hours or overnight, as convenient.

Later (or the next day), add the other two, very thinly sliced lemons. Bring the fruit/sugar mixture to a boil over medium heat and let the jam bubble away for about 20 to 30 minutes. The boiling bubbles will become less vivacious as the temperature rises to the point where the jam will set. As the boil becomes more leisurely, the jam ready to set, add the remaining 400 g of blackberries. Cook for another 10 minutes.

Sterilize the jars in boiling water for 5 minutes, transfer the hot jam into the jars, seal tightly, and store for a few weeks at least before opening!

Related posts

Plum jam with candied ginger

Rhubarb rosemary jam

Rhubarb rosemary syrup

Chive blossom vinegar

Brussels sprouts and pecorino salad

6 December 2013

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I nearly didn’t make this salad for Thanksgiving.

With Sam Sifton’s peremptory Thanksgiving book still ringing in my ears, I did, in fact, briefly debate the pros and cons of his strict no-salad rule. Might it diminish the lusciousness of the meal? Is it the last thing anyone wants to see on a festive table? On the other hand, this barely counts as salad. Surely by salad, Sifton means lettuce?

As it turned out, this deceptively simple dish of raw Brussels sprouts and fresh pecorino, both finely shaved and tossed with a simple dressing, was — again — undoubtedly one of the favorites of the table. On the contrary, what a welcome bounce on the palate between forkfuls of turkey and chestnut stuffing.

This dish wasn’t born as a Thanksgiving side, and shouldn’t die as one. It is a salad for any occasion. I first encountered something similar quite some years ago in the lunch bar up the block from our office in Soho. That version had walnuts, and though adding nuts would be overkill on Thanksgiving, they marry perfectly.

This is barely a recipe, just a few very good ingredients tossed together. It must be made a few hours ahead, so the dressing has time to soften the Brussels sprouts. There should be enough pecorino for a shaving or two in each mouthful.

Very fresh Brussels sprouts, preferably still on the stem because snapping them off is a fun occupation for children on Thanksgiving morning

Pecorino, not too aged

Freshly squeezed lemon juice

Sherry or good wine vinegar

Best olive oil

Sea salt

Freshly ground black pepper

Freshly hulled walnuts (optional)

Trim and remove one or two outer leaves of each Brussels sprout, then shave them finely with a mandolin or a sharp knife and lots of patience.

Cut the pecorino into paper thin shavings.

The salad is very thirsty and will soak up the dressing, so plan generously, but the proportions are roughly: 5 lemon juice plus 1 vinegar to 8 olive oil.

Season with salt and pepper. Taste the salad and adjust dressing/seasoning as necessary.

Quince fruit pastes (pâtes de fruit)

27 November 2013

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The truth of the matter is, rather than preparing for a blasphemously belated Thanksgiving on Saturday, for which most of my family is crossing the channel, I have been roasting quinces and simmering chutney.

Last week, friends unexpectedly brought me a big bag of quinces from their garden in the Cotswolds (I hear it is more of an orchard). I was quite excited and may possibly have briefly jumped up and down at the sight. It was a very busy week, and I was away this weekend — the quinces were becoming impatient. Quinces do hold out for a while but I wasn’t willing to tempt fate for too long, so last night I made chutney. As a first test improvised from a few recipes it is quite good, but I am not entirely happy enough to report the results here — yet. In any event, Thomas managed to save the last of the quinces from their chutney fate, begging that I make quince paste, too.

What he doesn’t know is that in the course of the morning, half of the membrillo has been transmogrified into my absolute favorite sweet: pâtes de fruit.

The preparation is the same up to the point of cutting the paste into dice or rectangles and coating them with sugar.

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Quince cheese recipe dapted from the River Café Cookbook (Blue)

Quinces

Sugar

Lemon

Preheat oven to 300ºF (150ºC).

Rub the fuzz from the quinces and wash well under cold water. Cut the quinces in half and place them face down in an ovenproof dish. Cover with aluminum foil and bake until the quinces feel quite soft when poked with a knife (probably 1 1/2 to 2 hours).

While the quinces are still warm, pass them through the fine mesh of a vegetable mill. (To insure a very pure paste, first remove the quinces’ core).

(The quince purée can at this point be refrigerated overnight.)

Weigh the purée, place in a saucepan, and add an equal amount of sugar and 2 tablespoons of lemon juice per 100g of quince.

Cook over very low heat, stirring constantly, until the paste has darkened and begins to fall off the sides. This will take a good long while, 1 1/2 to 2 hours, so take a book, newspaper, or magazine close to the stove but DO NOT leave. (I happen to know that left unattended, the paste will burn very quickly. In which case transfer quickly to another saucepan and continue cooking.)

Once the paste has reached a dark, heavy consistency, spread on a plate to cool. Once cool, cut into the desired shapes and roll in some sugar. The pastes should keep for a few weeks in an airtight container in the refrigerator.


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