The puree was made first by very briefly blanching chopped chives and a little spinach in boiling water and then draining and rinsing with cold water. They were squeezed dry before placing them in a blender with extra virgin olive oil and some salt and pureeing. I veered off the recipe path just a bit by roasting sliced potatoes rather than boiling and then slicing. Also, for the olives, rather than cooking in oil in the microwave, I sauteed the chopped olives in oil in a pan on the stove until they were crisp. I used turbot fillets rather than cod, and any white flakey fish with good oil content would work here. I basted them with Dijon mustard, seared them for a few minutes in a pan on top of the stove, then flipped them and placed the pan under the broiler for another couple of minutes. To serve, the fish was topped with the olives, and the sauce and potatoes were placed to the side.
falls into that very category. It's been a pleasure to read this book about using locally grown food and the stories about farmers from different parts of the US. The recipes are straightforward and familiar, but they all have an unexpected twist that makes them fresh and new. For instance, beets with goat cheese or feta is a natural combination. But here, cooked beet greens and stems are topped with whipped feta seasoned with Aleppo pepper and mint. There’s also a zucchini bread, but this one has grated carrots and minced candied ginger in it. There are grilled cauliflower steaks with tahini sauce that look great too. The many stunning photos and the little, surprising additions to the recipes kept me turning the pages to see what I’d find next. Throughout the book, there are introductions to farmers from Oregon, Massachusetts, Minnesota, Illinois, and even Austin, Texas, and the stories offer glimpses into what inspires these farmers to do what they do, their challenges, and their successes. I could go on and on, but I will just tell you one more thing about the book. It’s organized by ingredient alphabetically. You can look to the top right or left corner of each page and flip until you find the item you want to prepare. If you just received ten pounds of eggplants from your CSA, flip to the eggplant pages and you’ll get several ideas. Ok, one more thing. There are also recipes for fruits, poultry, eggs, and meat.
is a new book by the Silver Spoon kitchen from Phaidon Press, and I recently received a review copy. It’s a collection of easy, breezy summer dishes for picnics, light meals, and summer entertaining. The recipes in this book are meant to be enjoyed at relaxing gatherings, and so most can be prepared in advance. These are simple dishes that take advantage of the best of the season. Fresh fruits find their way into desserts as well as savory dishes. This watermelon and shrimp salad is a perfect example of that. When I read about this dish, I was sure it would be a winner. Last summer, I became addicted to a 
after it sat in my stack of unread cookbooks for almost a year. I’m only about 50 pages into it, but I can tell that it’s going to be a delight to read. Already, I’ve learned about the different regions of Spain, regional cuisine specialties, and a little history of each area. The first chapter of recipes is Tapas, and each item is introduced with some information about where it originated and variations on how it might be prepared. As usual, I wanted to make each and every item as I began this chapter, and this time I almost did. I chose several dishes including the first two in a row and spent an evening imagining I was in Seville on a tapeo that happened to take place entirely in one establishment (my house) rather than several. For today, I’m showing the first three tapas I prepared, and I’ll continue the story in a second post. Tangerine-marinated olives, Sevillian marinated carrots, and smoky fried almonds are up first.
I wasn’t able to locate a tangerine for the olives, so I used an orange instead. Cracked green olives were marinated with orange zest and juice, lots of crushed garlic, lemon slices, sherry vinegar, olive oil, bay leaves, a crumbled dried chile, and a pinch of ground cumin. To prepare the carrots, they were peeled but left whole and cooked in boiling water in a large pot just until crisp-tender. The marinade was made by combining garlic, cumin seeds, dried oregano, red pepper flakes, fresh parsley, salt, and olive oil in a food processor and pulsing to a fine paste. Lemon juice was then added to the mixture. The carrots were cut into quarter inch or half inch pieces, tossed with the marinade, and left in the refrigerator overnight. The almonds were very simple to prepare. Marcona almonds were suggested, and that’s what I used, but blanched almonds would have been fine too. The almonds were fried in olive oil until golden and then were transferred to a paper towel lined tray to drain before being placed in a paper bag. Salt and smoked Spanish paprika were placed in the bag with the almonds, and the bag was shaken to distribute the seasonings.
The great thing about a tapas party is that a lot of the preparation can be done a day or more in advance. However, the almonds are at their best served warm, but they could be re-heated in the oven right before serving. These were three very simple items, but the flavors were addictive. I know I have a good snack in front of me when I'm incapable of controlling my hand repeatedly reaching for the serving dish. The citrus and garlic combination in the olives was a winner, and the marinated carrots will make you wonder why bars ever offered pretzels as snacks. And, warm, smoky, paprika-scented Marcona almonds don’t even require a flavor description. Pour me another glass of Garnacha, and let me continue to pretend I’m in Spain.
The spice mix was made by toasting broken cinnamon sticks, cloves, cumin seeds, coriander seeds, fennel seeds, peppercorns, and sweet paprika in a dry skillet. Once the heat made the spices aromatic, they were placed in a coffee grinder which I use just for spices. Salt was added, and the mixture was ground to a powder. The spice mixture was rubbed onto the chicken, and I always loosen the skin over the breast so as to season under the skin as well. Then, cilantro, one halved lemon, and on halved head of garlic were placed in the cavity. I left the chicken in the refrigerator for a few hours to absorb the flavors, and then it was roasted in a 400 degree F oven for just over an hour. For the sauce, shallots and one red chile were sauteed in olive oil until the shallots were caramelized. That mixture was added to a food processor with one half pound of pitted, green Spanish olives, parsley leaves, sherry vinegar, lemon juice, and olive oil. That was pureed until very smooth.
Not only did those spices smell wonderful as the chicken roasted, they also really permeated the meat. Then, there was the sauce. The sauteed shallots sweetened the brininess of the olives, the parsley gave it herby freshness, and the oil smoothed it out nicely. It complemented the chicken well, and served as a nice dressing with some mixed baby greens. I can also report that the leftover chicken made one of the best chicken salads I’ve had. This was a twist on roasted chicken I'll be repeating often.
The meal worked out great. The martini sauce was nicely flavored in a pleasantly boozy sort of way, and the juniper berries gave it a very subtle, wispy hint of pine. The olives took charge visually and brought little punches of brininess that went well with the salmon. And, even though the slaw just sat in the background, off to the side of the plate, it was more delicious than I expected. It was shown in Gourmet with salmon cakes, it was great with the salmon I made, and I can imagine it as a side with all sorts of other things too. It’s incredibly simple to prepare, and I definitely recommend it.
To make the pesto di limone, two wide strips of lemon zest were pureed with the juice of a lemon and some olive oil. Then, I was supposed to have used Taggiasche or Gaeta olives, and had I found some green Taggiasche olives the pesto would have been nice and green. Since I used black Gaeta olives, mine was a darker color. The pitted Gaeta olives and two big cups of basil leaves were added to the blender and pureed with the first three ingredients. This resulted in an intentionally thin pesto with a fresh, lemony flavor. The pesto with two tomatoes was just as simple to prepare. First, sun-dried tomatoes, olive oil, and rinsed and drained salt-packed capers were pureed in the blender. Then, cherry tomatoes, and I found the prettiest dark red, almost purple cherry tomatoes, were added, and it was pureed together until smooth. That pesto was transferred to a large bowl, and grated parmigiano reggiano and chopped chives were added.
The tomato pesto required one half cup of olive oil, and I know I’ve used a lot more oil than that in similar quantities of pesto. Yet, the smooth texture gave it a richness that made it seem more decadent than it was. Of course, the flavor was nicely layered with fresh, juicy tomatoes and the depth of sun-dried tomatoes, and the chives lent just enough bite from the allium family. Both pestos are keepers, and I’m sure I’ll think of different ways to use them each time they’re made.
The next step in the process was the sauce. I don’t know why, but it had never occurred to me that the fresh, light sauce I’ve loved so much on pizzas in restaurants was uncooked. To make the sauce as described in the book, you open a can of San Marzano tomatoes and pour them into a bowl. Squish them with your hands until the tomatoes are broken into small pieces, and add a little sea salt. That’s it. If the canned tomatoes are watery, pour off some water before you begin squishing.
This was definitely better than my regular pizza. The dough had developed more flavor from the longer, slower rising time. Of course, it lacked that amazing wood-fired flavor of a great pizza, but I’m just comparing it to my typical, homemade version. The chile oil was a knock-out. It was a rare pizza experience during which I didn’t miss the cheese. The simple sauce was perfect. That’s all a pizza sauce needs to be. And, the wine worked very nicely with the spicy, salty pizza toppings. The Falanghina was a balanced wine with a little crispness but also good body. It wasn’t as crisp as a Sauvignon Blanc and not as buttery as a Chardonnay, but it fell somewhere in between and deliciously so.
The chicken I used was kind of big, so I gave it extra time to simmer. The tomatoes softened and became one with the sauce. The other vegetables attained a lovely tenderness. The potatoes were cut into big enough chunks that they held their shape, and they turned a pretty pinkish color from the wine. I put just a little more effort into this meal than I really had to because I decided the sauce could be thicker. I transferred everything to a large serving bowl and turned up the heat to reduce the sauce and then poured that delicious, rich wine and chicken gravy over the stew. It was garnished with chopped parsley and mint and red pepper flakes and served with bread for dipping. It was a hearty, easy meal that makes arguably even better leftovers. I may let dinner do the cooking more often.
Here, the focus of the salad was the sweetness of the vegetables accented by the briny olives and salty cheese. A small amount of salt was used in dressing the fennel, but pepper was not used at any point. Each item on the plate fulfilled exactly what it should have. The fennel was perfect with lemon, and the olives met well with the earthy sweetness of the beets. The sharp yet rich bite of the cheese brought all the flavors together, and the crisp, light, Greco di Tufo with a hint of grapefruit was just what was meant to go with it since I don’t know what I was missing with the Asprinio di Aversa.
I baked a round of dough, let it cool to room temperature, and topped it as Pepin suggested. Sour cream was combined with horseradish, the salmon was draped on top, thin slices of red onion were added, provencal olives were strewn about, and a sprinkling of chopped basil and sea salt and pepper completed it. (As a side note, 
What happened with the remaining pizza dough? Two other creations followed. First, parmigiana with basil, Aleppo pepper, olive oil, and sea salt. 
Then, anchovy, olive oil, rosemary, and Aleppo pepper. Both of these were delicious, but the smoked salmon pizza was the star of the show. This parade of pizzas filled our evening with a lot of crunchy, savory, contented eating. 
