Archive for the ‘Seasonal’ Category

Watermelon, mint, and feta salad

11 September 2012

When my friend Tamara introduced me to this salad some years ago I was surprised at first, intrigued, and immediately smitten. I’ve made it often since and it usually elicits a similar reaction — surprise at the sight of feta, curious interest in the addition of olive oil, and prompt addiction to each salty sweet cool crunchy bite. It’s as simple as its four ingredients and magically transcends the sum of its parts, as they say.

I see it more often now, but in case you hadn’t yet crossed paths with this awesome combination, you must give it a try. It’s best eaten without utensils, just by picking up each watermelon wedge capped with feta and mint. Beware the juice.

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Chilled watermelon

Good feta

Fresh mint

Best extra virgin olive oil

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Cut the watermelon into approximately 2 inch (5 cm) wedges, and each long wedge into approximately 3/4 inch (1 cm) pieces. Place the watermelon pieces on a plate or shallow dish.

Crumble lots of feta on top of the watermelon.

Wash, pick through, and thinly cut the mint leaves. Sprinkle over the feta.

Finally, drizzle a thin ribbon of olive oil and serve.

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Avocado, cherry tomato, cucumber salad with red pepper and parsley

Baked mackerel with mustard and thyme

26 July 2012

During the first couple of weeks the persistent Breton drizzle rarely abated, the rolling clouds swept from deep coal to lighter greys, with barely a glint of blue. We went on foggy walks through swampy fields, tore out weeds under the rain, wore thick sweaters, spent evenings by the fireplace. There wasn’t much outdoor cooking.

And when it is too wet to grill mackerel on an open fire, the next best thing is to slather the fish with mustard on both sides and bake it in the oven. This is how we always prepared mackerel in the family. Short of outdoor grilling, it is the best.

Fish is pretty easy going and doesn’t need much in terms of preparation; the tricky and single most important thing is the cooking time. It is very easy to overcook and that ruins everything. This is particularly acute with mackerel: well cooked it is succulent, overdone it becomes heartlessly dry.

I usually count one mackerel per person, but here we’ve found very small line-caught mackerel that were barely enough for one, and occasionally I’ve seen mackerel large enough to be shared. When I’m not sure I seek advice from the fishmonger.

One medium mackerel per person, whole but gutted
Sea salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Fresh thyme
Olive oil
Hot Dijon mustard

Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C).

Season the gutted belly cavity of the mackerel with a pinch of salt and freshly ground pepper; stuff with a sprig of thyme.

Drizzle a little olive oil onto a baking dish large enough to hold all the mackerel.

Slather a thin layer of mustard on both sides of each fish, place into the baking dish and slide into the oven.

Bake for 10 to 12 minutes; this depends on the size of the fish, naturally, and larger ones could take a few minutes longer. **As it is absolutely essential not to overcook fish, rather risk having to pop it back into the oven for a minute if it is still raw inside (the flesh would still be slightly translucent).**

Serve immediately, preferably with mashed potatoes.

Rhubarb raspberry crostata

21 July 2012

I wasn’t going to make this, I admit. I saw the crostata on Lottie + Doof when it was published a few weeks ago and somehow dismissed it, as I might have snubbed a recipe that combines rhubarb and strawberries. In my mind rhubarb is not enhanced by berries of any sort. (Rosemary as a gentle herbal boost, on the other hand, is a different story.)

But I arrived in Brittany in the midst of what everyone claimed to be the worst summer (summer?) in recent memory. I’d already enjoyed a generous dose of sun and heat in New York, so I didn’t mind much, and the terrible weather had brought with it a few perks: still plenty of rhubarb at the market and lots of raspberries in the garden, bravely defying the odds on overgrown bushes left to fend for themselves all year long. (Also elders still in bloom! But more on that later.)

I bought rhubarb, as I always do; eyed the raspberries calling out for prompt picking; and remembered that a friend had recently raved about this crostata. The decision seemed to make itself.

As it turned out, I loved everything about the recipe. The crust is great. The technique of bending it back over the pie so simple and clever. And, well, the combination of rhubarb and raspberry really is well inspired, after all. (I did add a sprig of rosemary to infuse the filling as it was cooking, it was irresistible. Otherwise everything remains pretty much the same.)

The great thing here is that the crust and rolling technique can be used with all kinds of fruit. I imagine peach slices tossed with a little sugar and a few sprigs of thyme simply placed on the crust (uncooked) before baking would be excellent, too.

Recipe by Karen DeMasco in Bon Appétit via Lottie + Doof

For the  crust

1 cup (125 g) white flour

1/2 cup (75 g) whole wheat flour

1 Tbsp sugar

1/2 tsp sea salt

3/4 (170g) cup butter

1 large egg

1 Tbsp whole milk

Keep the butter well chilled.

In a large bowl, combine the flours, sugar, and salt.

Cut the cold butter into cubes, add to the flour mixture, and combine until the dough has the texture of coarse oatmeal.

In a small bowl, whisk the egg and milk to combine well. Add the egg/milk to the flour/butter mixture, and work the dough just enough so that it can be gathered into a ball. If you need a little more moisture (I did), add some water, a few drops at a time, until the dough can be shaped.

Flatten the ball and place in the refrigerator, covered snugly with parchment paper, to rest for at least 1 1/2 hours and up to 2 days.

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For the filling

1/4 cup (30 g) cornstarch

4 cups (about 500 g) rhubarb

1 pint raspberries

2/3 cup (135 g) sugar

1 sprig rosemary

In a small bowl, dissolve the cornstarch in 3 Tbsps water and set aside.

Wash, peel as necessary, and cut the rhubarb into 1/2 inch (1 cm) pieces. Never wash raspberries but check through them to remove leaves or any damaged berries.

Combine the rhubarb, raspberries, rosemary, and sugar in a large heavy saucepan and cook over medium heat, stirring regularly, until the sugar dissolves and the juices are released, about 4 to 5 minutes. Stir in the diluted cornstarch and bring to a boil, then transfer to a bowl and chill until cool, about 30 minutes. **The rhubarb will not be soft, the slices still intact; it will cook through later as the crostata bakes in the oven.**

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The crostata

Flour for rolling the dough

1 egg and 1 tsp milk for the egg wash

A little brown sugar for sprinkling on the edges of the crostata

Remove dough from refrigerator and allow about 15 minutes for it to soften with the ambient heat and become easy to handle (but not too much or the dough becomes sticky and difficult to roll).

Preheat oven to 400°F (200°C).

Roll out the dough onto a large piece of floured parchment paper to about 12″ (30 cm), taking good care that it doesn’t stick and adding flour if necessary.

Beat one egg with a tsp milk and brush the crust with the egg wash (this helps seal the crust so the juices from the fruit don’t make it soggy).

Remove the sprig rosemary from the cooled filling and scoop the filling carefully onto the crust, spreading it evenly from the center outward leaving a 2″ (5 cm) border. Gently fold the edges of the dough back over the filling.

Brush the borders with the egg wash and sprinkle with sugar. Slide the parchment paper with the crostata onto a baking sheet, then into the oven and bake until the crust is golden and the filling bubbly, about 45 minutes.

Let the crostata cool. Serve with crème fraîche or whipped cream.

PS: Photos are of the uncooked crostata and here I added a few fresh raspberries just before baking. This is not reflected in the recipe.

Rhubarb rosemary syrup and a gin drink

21 June 2012

The rhubarb rosemary syrup is barely an adaptation of 101 Cookbooks‘ rhubarb rosewater syrup. It is the same recipe, but instead of adding rosewater once the syrup had cooled, I added a sprig of rosemary while it was still warm. I am entirely pleased with the result. I had seen the pairing of rhubarb and rosemary mentioned in a few places, and I love how it brings out rhubarb’s herbaceous edge.

Typically I’ve simply been using a tablespoon of this syrup with sparkling water, a good squeeze of lime, and a few ice cubes. But somewhat uncharacteristically the other day I made a drink. It was a warm evening and I wanted something light and refreshing. Here’s how I made it, on a whim.

2 tsps rhubarb rosemary syrup (recipe from 101 Cookbooks, I just substituted rosewater with a sprig of rosemary)

2 ounces gin

1 ounce rosé

A dash of sparkling water

A squeeze of lime (to taste) and one slice

A sprig of rosemary

The slice of lime and sprig of rosemary ‘garnish’ are important to add a little more edge against the sweetness of the syrup and wine. I added a few ice cubes but took them out fairly quickly as they were melting too fast and I didn’t want them to water down the drink too much (using one larger ice cube would do the trick).

Cheers!

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At the market | Rhubarb

Rhubarb ice cream

Spelt buckwheat buttermilk pancakes

5 June 2012

I expect everyone has an opinion about pancakes.

Pancakes must be light and fluffy, of course, but they must have character. I don’t make plain white flour/milk pancakes, if I can help it. Every Sunday (right, every Sunday *on which I make pancakes*), I experiment. Spelt, oat, whole wheat, buckwheat; buttermilk, yogurt, kefir, ricotta; orange and thyme; fruit, nuts, coconut; … . Some improvisations are better than others.

This recipe strikes just the right balance. There isn’t much buckwheat and that’s how it should be. Just a little heft, tempered by the tang of cultured milk.

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I used white and whole spelt flours though regular wheat flours would also work. The key here is a small proportion of whole grain and a little buckwheat.

4 Tbsps butter

1 1/2 cups (175 g) white spelt flour

1/2 cup (75 g) whole spelt flour

2 heap Tbsps buckwheat flour

2 Tbsps sugar

1 tsp salt

2 tsps baking powder

1 tsp baking soda

2 eggs

2 1/2 cups (600 ml) cultured buttermilk

Coconut oil for the pan (I use coconut oil to cook pancakes. It works perfectly because it doesn’t burn.)

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Melt the butter and let cool to room temperature.

Into a large bowl, sift the flours together with the sugar, salt, baking powder, and baking soda.

In another, smaller bowl, beat the eggs well with the fork before adding just 2 cups (500ml) of the buttermilk and finally the melted butter. (Add the rest of the buttermilk only if the batter is too thick.)

Pour the wet ingredients into the flour mixture, and mix swiftly, just enough to combine completely (a few bumps are nothing to worry about, it is important not to overstir the batter).

Grease griddle (non-stick pan) and place over high heat. Once the griddle is hot, pour little puddles of batter (the size is entirely up to you, but keep in mind that they will expand quite a bit), reduce heat to medium, and stay close, checking constantly until you start noticing bubbles popping up. Turn over the pancakes with a wide spatula and, within barely a minute, the pancake is ready. To make more pancakes, repeat process, adding a little oil every time to make sure they don’t stick.

The pancakes can be kept in a covered pan in a 250°F (120°C) oven for a little while if you want to make all the pancakes first and serve them at once.

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