Radish Rye Flatbread

I grew up in Illinois, the very center of the Midwest US, where we used to say that every recipe had a can of soup in it. Yes, despite being the agricultural mecca of the country, the Midwest was known as a land of casseroles more so than one of fresh, fabulous food, but all of that might have changed in the last few years. I received a review copy of the new book Heartland the Cookbook and learned of several new things about the food scene there. The number of artisan food purveyors has drastically increased. There's now La Quercia in Iowa which makes prosciutto from heritage Berkshire pigs, foraged foods are showing up on high-end restaurant menus, microbreweries and microdistilleries are making small batch products, and Prairie Fruits Farm in Champaign, Illinois and other small dairies are making chevre. Years ago, I attended the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, and I don't recall any local cheese purveyors in town back then. I was thrilled to read about this change and the growing focus on local foods. I also learned that the Midwest now has thirty-three Slow Food chapters making it second only to the California Oregon Washington region. In addition to delivering all of that great news, the book is also full of beautiful photos of rural landscapes and, of course, food.

The recipes include breakfast dishes, breads, nibbles and drinks, salads and soups, main courses, and desserts. Several of the dishes recommend locally made items like that chevre from Champaign, Illinois or Chicago-made Vosges chocolate that's used in a hot fudge sundae with salted caramel sauce. I haven't made it back to the Midwest for a visit lately, so instead of using specific products from there, I cooked with the spirit of the book by using what I could get locally in Austin. There's a recipe for four seasons flatbread which showcases seasonal items in different toppings. The flatbreads themselves are made from no-knead recipes also in the book. I chose the no-knead sour caraway rye dough topped with a fresh herb cheese, sliced radishes, and chives. I used a feta, spinach, and herb spread made by Full Quiver Farm, and I found pretty, Easter egg radishes, and some green garlic which I added to the toppings, at the farmers' market last weekend. The no-knead dough was as simple as dough gets. Bread flour, rye flour, instant yeast, salt, cocoa powder for color, caraway seeds, molasses, yogurt, and water were mixed in a large bowl. Since there's no kneading, you do need to mix thoroughly with a spoon, but then the dough just sits to rise for a couple of hours and that's it. The dough was patted into an oval on a baking sheet, and it baked until browned and crisp on the surface. Once cool, the cheese was spread on top, and it was covered with sliced radishes and green garlic and chopped chives.

Fresh, early spring flavors of radish and green garlic and a thin layer of rich cheese were complemented nicely by the rye flatbread with caraway, cocoa, and molasses. As soon as local heirloom tomatoes appear, I'll use them for the flatbread version made with clover honey dough. The other recipes I'm looking forward to trying are prairie panzanella made with cornbread, an heirloom bean ragout in an acorn squash, and the next time we use the grill, I'm making the smoked goat cheese. Mostly, I'm looking forward to my next visit to the Midwest where I'll be seeking out some of the food artisans I learned about in the book.

I’m submitting this to Yeastspotting where you’ll find some seriously well-made bread.

Lemony Quinoa Salad with Shaved Vegetables

This summer is becoming the season of salads, and this one comes from April’s Food and Wine. It’s from Jeremy Fox of Ubuntu which is a restaurant and yoga studio in Napa. The restaurant’s menu focuses on vegetable-inspired meals with daily-harvested and farm-fresh produce. I hope to visit it one of these days, but until then, I have the recipes from the magazine. For this salad, I feared the ingredients might require an extended search mission, and I was ready to make substitutions as needed. Just when I was willing to relent, I easily found both red quinoa and black radishes. Little shopping successes like that give me hope for future ingredient hunts. Once all the items had been gathered, the salad was very simple to assemble.

First, red radishes, black radishes, carrots, and fennel were thinly sliced on a Benriner. Then, the slices were transferred to a bowl of ice water which was refrigerated for an hour. That is what made this salad what it was. The vegetables became incredibly crisp with a lasting, transformed texture. The red quinoa was cooked in water, allowed to cool, and then combined with a simple vinaigrette of lemon juice, lemon zest, olive oil, salt, and pepper. The shaved vegetables topped the quinoa to finish the salad.

It’s so simple, it might even sound boring, but it was light, crunchy, and lemony. The vinaigrette mixed into the quinoa brought plenty of acidity and seasoning for the entire plate. The flavor of the fennel mingled its way among the other vegetables in a nice way, and the cold crispness of the slices were the textural opposite of the cooked quinoa. I hadn’t eaten black radishes before, but the flavor was very mild. The skin was thicker than that of the red radishes, and they seemed a little firmer when being cut. The visual appeal of the contrasting colors and shapes matched the experience of eating the different textures in the salad. Simply put, this was fun to eat, and chilling shaved vegetables is a technique I’ll definitely use again.

Sliced Spring Salad with Avocado and Feta

Have you read A Homemade Life by Molly Wizenberg yet? The book is moving and touching and funny, and I couldn’t put it down once I started it. Her stories describe times with her father, time spent in Paris, and meeting and falling for her now husband. All of which involved food in one way or another, and each story includes a recipe or two. And, about the food, I have several post-its marking pages of things I intend to make. The first of those to be tried was the sliced spring salad. I had some radishes and cilantro from Hands of the Earth Farm, and the weather’s been warm and muggy and just right for a crisp salad.

To begin the preparation, the red wine vinegar and Dijon vinaigrette was made in a small bowl. Then, there’s a description of the order in which the vegetables should be sliced based on the speed at which they oxidize. I should mention that the writing of the recipes is as well-done as that of the stories in that they are both clearly of the same voice. I won’t ruin it by quoting it here. The radishes were sliced first, then radicchio, followed by endive. Those were tossed in a large bowl with cilantro leaves and some of the vinaigrette to taste. Last, the avocado was sliced and placed on top, and the salad was sprinkled with French feta. It was quick and easy to assemble, and the most time-consuming part was probably picking the leaves off the cilantro stems.

It was a colorful, fresh combination that was perfect with some simply grilled chicken. The radicchio and endive were crunchy and flavorful, the radishes added a peppery note, and the buttery avocado was delicious with the cilantro. French feta is a little milder than Greek, and it worked very well here. As noted in the recipe, goat cheese would also be good. It was a winner that we’ll definitely have again. Up next from this book could be meatballs with pine nuts, or slow-roasted tomato pesto, or custard-filled corn bread, or caramelized cauliflower with salsa verde. So many post-its.

Winter Kaleidoscope

I returned home after a great week in Ireland and got to pick up some fresh CSA vegetables the next morning. The carrots, radishes, and daikon were bright and beautiful. It’s the crispness of radishes and the sharp, peppery flavor that I like, and I usually always eat them raw. However, I have been intrigued by a few dishes I’ve seen lately involving cooking radishes. I pulled Patricia Wells’ Vegetable Harvest from the shelf and found a warm salad nicely suited to the season and these fine vegetables I’d just acquired. In the book, Wells tells the story of the first delivery of fresh vegetables she received in Paris, how colorful and fresh they were, and the recipe that was included. That recipe is close to what you see here, but I had to make a couple of changes.

Jerusalem artichokes were to be included, but there were none at the grocery store and therefore none in my version of the dish. I also left out the turnips because I had both red and watermelon radishes. So, my vegetable melange included: carrots, red radishes, watermelon radishes, daikon, parsnips, and garlic. Now, the 16 cloves of garlic suggested in the recipe may sound like a lot, but they become mild and lovely as they cook. All the vegetables are to be very thinly sliced and then cooked over low heat with cumin, espelette, and a little olive oil. My pantry was missing piment d’espelette, I need to order some along with fennel pollen and more Aleppo pepper, so I used a small bit of cayenne instead. Everything cooked together, covered, for 20 minutes. Once on the plate, fragrant walnut oil was dribbled about, and I added some chopped parsley as well. The low heat ensures the vegetables retain some crunch but yield just slightly. I would suggest cooking the parsnips for a few minutes on their own and then adding everything else. Their texture was a little firmer than that of the other items, but it could have just been that the store bought parsnips weren’t as amazingly fresh as the CSA produce.

The dish was nicely spiced by cumin and cayenne, and the walnut oil accented it very well. It’s an uncomplicated preparation, but each element played an important part, so don’t skip the walnut oil or cumin. The colors were thrilling and added to the sense of freshness. This warm but crisp salad with some rosemary roast chicken made a simple and delicious fall meal.