Toast

Rosti

A Bullseye? I got a kick out of learning to make these circular Swiss potato latkes. Admittedly, this plain and humble version is not so elegant. But it is very good, and made an excellent supper, topped by an egg for sauce, and followed by some oranges and coffee.The rosti technique resembles the method for a spanish tortilla, and the rosti has a lot of possiblities, many of which have been done already, for combining, refining and fancification.

The rosti is a cake made of grated parboiled potatoes, crisp and buttery on the outside, and melting, almost creamy, on the inside. There is a lot of talk about the "real" way to make rosti; some people even say that no Swiss person would parboil the potatoes; others say that is nonsense, that in Switzerland, already cooked potatoes are sold for this very purpose. There are numerous versions in my ridiculously eclectic collection of cookbooks, and all over the net.

I certainly will not claim any particular authenticity for this version, which is more or less straight from the Gourmet Cookbook. I picked it because it is the plainest, and hence presumably adaptable, and because it worked. I'm thinking that I will be playing around with it in the future. This is what you need to make two modest servings. The serving you see in the pictures is really enough for two, except that you will need to put 2 fried eggs on it, rather than one.

Yukon Gold Potaoes one pound
salt and pepper
butter
olive oil

fresh eggs, preferably free range 2

6" well-seasoned cast iron or nonstick pan
spatula which is narrower at the handle, and wider at the outside edge (No doubt you could use another type, but this seems to give the best control in nudging the rosti around.)
2 plates, kept near the stove (as well as the serving plate)

Boil the potatoes until they are almost, but not quite, tender. Chill them thoroughly, preferably overnight, or up to several days. Peel the potatoes and grate them coarsely on the large holes of a box grater. In a nonstick or well-seasoned cast iron 6" pan (I used the latter), heat a generous amount of olive oil and butter. As with the Spanish tortilla, this really doesn't work unless you use a whole lot of fat. Console yourself with the knowledge that quite a bit of it will actually be left in the pan when you are done. (This is why you slide the potato cake in and out, rather than inverting the pan.)

When the oil foams, add the grated potatoes to the pan. Pack them in with your spatula, so that they fill the pan evenly. Salt and pepper generously, and turn the flame to medium low. Cook for 10 to 12 minutes, until the bottom has browned nicely. Holding the pan with one hand, tilted slightly, slide your spatula under the rosti, and carefully slide it onto the plate you set by the stove. Flip it over using the other plate, and slide it back into the pan, now inverted. You will probably need to push the edges down a bit with the spatula.

Cook for another 10-12 minutes, slide onto serving plate. Salt and pepper, and sprinkle with come chives. Fry 2 eggs and top with the eggs. Consume, cutting into wedges, piercing eggs to make a nice sauce.

Some versions of the rosti incorporate grated onion, or egg. The egg is entirely unnecessary with the precooked potato, which holds together nicely without it, and goes all creamy and soft inside. The onion could be just fine, if you are in the mood. And of course, all sorts of seasonings might work nicely in the rosti itself, or sprinkled on top. I'm a fan of lovage with potatoes, myself.

A traditional way to make fancy rosti for starters is to top them with creme fraiche, smoked salmon, and a bit of caviar, and top the lot with fresh dill. This sounds particularly good to me.You can cut them in wedges. Another use I've seen in various places, is as a topping for a savory fish or chicken "pie"..or over a vegetable or beefstew with a thick, rich gravy, for a crisp textural contrast. The family resemblance to American hash browns suggests a brunch dish with maybe corned beef hash, poached eggs, or sausages. Sometimes people make little baby rosti for cocktail type snacks, using those Swedish pans with multiple openings for making bitty pancakes. This seems a bit fussy to me, but the little ones are probably a cinch to flip, which might make up for the fuss, a bit.

So-go forth and invent uses for the rosti. And don't forget to let me in on them, please. Or just have some with an egg, for supper.

If At First: A Ricotta Tart with Pine Nut Praline and a Warning

I found this recipe on Nick Malgieri's website. I have seen quite a few recipes for this traditional Italian ricotta-pinenut tart-some with the pinenuts encorporated into the pastry, some in the topping. This is a sweet version, but I have seen savory versions with spinach- and I must say they look nice too.

Mario Batali says that you will find a ricotta pinenut tart in virtually every bakery in Italy-it is a traditional classic. He suggests that a slice with a glass of wine in the afternoon is the way to go, and I am inclined to agree, now that I have ahem, calmed down. It is lush and creamy, not too sweet, and has nice little bursts of flavor and texture from the peel, caramel., and pine nuts.I liked it, and my friends did too.

I've been looking at all these recipes for awhile, deciding which to try. The arrival of a Mother's Day gift including a glorious immense bag of pine nuts tipped the balance in favor of this recipe, which carmelizes and highlights the pinenuts. It is the creation of Jo Bettoja, an American cooking teacher, author, long time resident of Italy, and friend to Mr. Malgieri. I have adapted this only very slightly from the recipe on the website, for your convenience, in case you decide to make it- which course of action I cautiously recommend, as explained below.

Caramelized Pine Nuts
3/4 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon lemon juice
3/4 cup (about 3 ounces) pine nuts, lightly toasted

Dough
2 cups all-purpose flour (spoon flour into dry-measure cup and level off)
1/3 cup sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter, cold, and cut into 10 pieces
2 teaspoons finely grated orange or lemon zest
4 large egg yolks
2 tablespoons milk or water

Ricotta Filling.
2 pounds whole-milk ricotta
1/2 cup sugar
2 teaspoons grated orange zest
4 large eggs
Caramelized Pine Nuts (see above), chopped into 1/4-inch pieces

One 9-inch round pan, 2 inches deep, buttered

Caramelized pine nuts: Butter a jelly roll pan. Mix the sugar and lemon juice in a medium saucepan and stir. Cook over a medium flame, stirring with a metal spoon, until the sugar starts to melt .Decrease the heat to low and cook until it is a deep amber color. Immediately stir in the pine nuts and pour the mixture onto the buttered jelly roll pan. Let the nuts cool for a few minutes. When they are firm, but not hard, loosen the caramel from the pan with a wide spatula and turn it over to prevent sticking.

When it is firm and cooled-chop it up with a large knife. You can store it in an airtight tin, if you like.

The dough is easiest to make in a food processor, so I will give you those directions. You can make it by hand, though. I did, my processor having recently given up the ghost (Shortly after I made this tart, I gave in and got a new one on sale- a nice little 7 cup Kitchenaid with an additional small bowl and blade): Combine the dry ingredients in the work bowl of a food processor fitted with the metal blade. Pulse several times to mix. Add the butter and pulse about 10 times to mix the butter in finely. Add the orange zest, yolks, and water and pulse repeatedly until the dough forms a ball. Invert the dough to a floured work surface and carefully remove the blade. Squeeze the dough into a disk, wrap it in plastic, and refrigerate it while preparing the filling. You can put this in the fridge for 2 days before proceeding, or freeze for a couple of months..

Preheat to 350F.

Filling: Put your ricotta in a large mixing bowl and beat it smooth with a large rubber spatula. Beat in the sugar and orange zest. Beat in the eggs, one at a time, beating smooth after each addition. Stir in half the chopped pine nut caramel.

Remove the dough from the refrigerator and gently knead it on a floured surface until it is smooth. Place it on a floured surface. Flour the dough and roll it to a 13-inch circle. Transfer it to the prepared pan. Press the dough well into the bottom and sides of the pan. Use a bench scraper or the back of a knife to sever the excess dough at the rim of the pan.

Pour the filling into the pan and smooth the top. Sprinkle with the rest of the pinenut praline. Use a table knife to loosen any dough on the side of the pan above the filling and turn it down over the filling.

Bake the tart until the dough is baked through and the filling is slightly puffed, about 45 minutes.
Cool the tart on a rack, wrap the pan in plastic, and chill. Thoroughly. Well. I mean this most emphatically, as you will see.

To unmold the tart, for serving, warm the bottom of the pan over low heat for a few seconds. Invert the tart to a rack and remove the pan. Replace the pan with a platter and invert the whole stack and remove the rack. Obvious alternative-springform pan. I used a deeper, smaller pan, more like 7" at the bottom, and a bit wider at the top, aiming for a taller tart, which I hoped would look impressive. It is certainly tall. If you do this, it will take longer to bake and set, of course-in my case, over an hour. Stoves vary wildly, too.

Warning: I do like it tall, but it is a bit tricky to handle this way. In fact, you are looking at my second tart. I was impatient, and didn't let the first one chill properly. It was pretty when it first came out, but slowly, slowly cracked, quivered and collapsed into a trainwreck/ mudslide before my eyes. I reacted to this baking disaster with all the aplomb of a disappointed toddler. Be glad you were not there to witness the event. After I hastily reassembled my persona, the blubbery mass, studded with caramelly nuts, was delicious served in bowls- so I knew I had to try again. Stubbornly, I used the same deeper, smaller pan.

In retrospect, a picture of the first tart, fully collapsed, would have been good here. It didn't occur to me at the time. After the cave-in of the tart, and my personal disintegration, I was way too giggle-ridden to operate a camera. Anyhow, I had the hiccups.

Strange Doings on the Porch

In addition to causing some head-shaking in my urban neighborhood when I photograph my supper outside in the natural light, I also have a slightly excessive assortment of plants on my stairs. I miss having a garden since I moved, five years ago, to my little apartment/rowhouse. Since my flat has its own little porch and stoop, I console myself with a diminutive container "garden" of flowers, herbs, and a couple of patio and cherry tomato plants. It occurs to me that there are three words meaning "small" in this one paragraph. Probably, you get the idea of the space I'm working with.

There are a few potted shrubs which seem to survive from year to year-including a barberry and an elderberry. Each year I gussy things up with temporary pretties like a few fuschia, mandeville vine, and the like. I do have a tendency to keep adding plants, whether there is really space for them or not.

I had a little lemon tree, which spent the winter in my office and the summer on my porch. It lives in my office permanently now, as it blooms there, and is presently working on 2 meyer lemons (had 1 last year.) It is clearly happy where it is, and I'm afraid if I move it back, the fruit may drop. I bought a thing or two at the annual May Market, a charming Pittsburgh event where garden clubs take over Mellon park to sell plants, mushroom sandwiches, and fondant strawberries to gardeners playing hooky from school and work. As well as several herbs, I picked up something there called an "oyster"plant. It has lovely stripey leaves with intensly purple undersides. It looks cool with the fuschias.

You see pictured the european blue-white, or "sweet trefoil" from Gerard's Herbal, and also from my little project on the porch. This is the first of my baby utskho suneli, from the seeds I so rashly ordered. Khmeli suneli here I come. (maybe). They look a bit like clover, no? At least mine do. The ones from the Herbal are not so similar to mine.* Hmmm. Sweet trefoil is purportedly yet another name for this close fenugreek relation. I wonder.

I have a few other odd ventures among my usual potted suspects this year. In one pot, as yet unsprouted, are some medlar seeds a friend brought back from Sardinia. One reference said they needed a season of cold dormancy, so they have just recently come out of my freezer, where they spent the winter in a baggie. I will be thrilled if anything comes of them.

I also have a couple of zucchini plants. In a container you say? This probably seems particularly demented, in light of the farm box, and the excess zucchini gifts which appear each summer, everywhere. This is the idea,though- I'm trying to grow them to harvest the blossoms, for they are perhaps my most favorite food ever. And the blossoms just don't get donated. One wonderful year, there was a little bag of the blossoms in the farmbox, but that hasn't been repeated. Do you suppose if I harvest the blossoms assisdulously, they will be provoked to produce more? We'll see, if the plants don't expire before I get a chance to try.

As usual I have pots of chives, basil, mint, rosemary, oregano, thyme and tarragon. This year there is also some lovage, and my gift of rose geraniums. It's no garden, but I get my kicks.

* Actually, the ones in the Herbal look more like methi a/k/a fresh fenugreek leaves, which you can see here, courtesy of the chocolate lady.

Rillettes II, (The Obsessed) : Lamb

So I still haven't made casing sausages. I keep getting distracted, in this realm, by the surprisingly easy potted meats and country pates which just seem to have my name on them. This one appeared in the NYTimes Magazine recently, and caused me a little twinge of regret. The regret has to do with a certain churlish reluctance to share the generally under-appreciated qualities of the lamb neck bone.

I am a great fan of those wonderfully gelatinous bits of animal which were once such bargains (osso buco, shortribs, oxtails, etc.) and are now the darlings of chefs and foodies and cost as much as steaks. Only lamb neck bones are still cheap as chips, and I fervently wish for this to continue. An appearance in the NYTimes does not necessarily bode well here. Fate.

Unlike the pork rillettes I made not so long ago, this recipe calls for prodigious quantities of olive oil. The pork rillettes were delicious without that feature. I was torn. I decided to go with the recipe as written, but make only half of it. Which I did. It fit very nicely in my favorite (only) little Staub pan.

Adapted (halved) from Daniel Patterson, in the New York Times Magazine:

lamb's neck, bone in 2 1/2 lbs
Salt
onion, sliced one small
carrot, peeled and sliced one smal
thyme a sprig
fennel seeds 1/2 tsp
coriander seeds 1/2 tsp
black peppercorns 1/2 tsp
chili flakes 1/2 tsp
olive oil (approximately 2 cups)
Freshly ground black pepper.

A day ahead of time, season the lamb's neck with salt. Cover and refrigerate. The next day, preheat the oven to 225F. Put the lamb's neck and the vegetables, herbs and spices in a covered casserole fitting them snugly.Cover with olive oil. Cover and cook in the oven until very tender, about 7 hours.
Let the lamb cool in the pot until just warm, then pull the meat and fat from the bones and put it in the bowl, of your stand mixer. Shred the meat by hand and add 1/4 cup of oil.

Finely chop the cooked vegetables and add to the bowl. Mix on low until the fat is incorporated. Season with salt and pepper. With a rubber spatula, pack the lamb into little ramekins, leaving 1/2" on top. Cover with melted clarified butter or lard. In the alternative, pack into a plastic wrap lined bowl, or mold. Refrigerate for at least one day, preferably three, to allow the flavors to develop.

Remove the rillettes from the refrigerator about an hour before you plan to eat them. Either serve with a small spreading knife, or if you have molded it, unmold and slice. Serve with a salad or some crusty bread. Serves 6 to 8 for a lunch or starter. My smaller amount here made one mini- loaf pan, and one ramekin.

Verdict: Yes these are yummy, and very nice with the crusty bread and salad deal. They are not, however, yummier than the pork rillettes of the recent past. Since those were stewed in water, rather than buckets of olive oil, with no discernable flavor or creaminess deficit, I will be adapting that one to other meats in the future. I will not, however, let the fact that these are less than 100% health food prevent me from enjoying them for supper. Mustard and pickled onions are both very good with these.

The other rillettes recipe had a preferred alternative which involved veal stock, rather than water. I don't generally have veal stock around, and bones to make it with are in short supply in the places I generally shop. When I do see a few, I pick the up and put them in the freezer. Once I get enough to make some stock, I might give that alternative a try. We'll see.

The Asparagus Follies: Two Ways To Gild the Lily

I'm playing with my food again. It's the height of asparagus season, it's cheap everywhere, and gorgeous. There is really nothing to beat steamed or roasted asparagus, seasoned with one herb and sea salt-maybe occasionally dipped into a runny egg yolk for extra pizazz. No trouble, right? That's what I imagine having every night when I dream of asparagus season in the dead of winter.

Now that I've been doing that for a few weeks, and have 2 lbs of asparagus in the house, I'm going off on tangents. Departing from my program of completely simple pleasures, I decided to make some different asparagus stuff. Hence: an asparagus salad with pistachios and an asparagus soup with parmesan custards from the Gourmet Cookbook. For two separate suppers, and for Asparagus Aspirations, a collection of asparagus recipes at Seriously Good.

The salad is not an original-it is a variant of a Judy Rodgers/ Zuni Cafe Salad..but it works particularly well-for preparation purposes -with the soup. Both require some good Parmegiana Reggiano, and I can use the entire asparagus, including the woody bits, unpeeled, if I make both.This is how it works. The salad requires raw asparagus-the equivalent of 2 or 3 stalks per person for a main dish supper or lunch.

The best part to use for this is the top part of the stalk-sans tip-it is the sweetest raw. Sooo, we cut a few of those and set them aside for our salad, snag a few pretty tips for a soup garnish, and use everything else, including all but the very ends of the dubious woodier parts for the soup.

Of course the labor-saving element (no peeling) only has value if you believe as I do, that no amount of prep will make it possible to avoid putting the asparagus soup through a fine sieve or foodmill before you eat it. Once you accept this, you might as well get all the flavor you can from the asparagus before you remove all the rubbish at the end. The soup is not a project for a hungry person only just home from work.

It can, however, be done in shifts, with the pre-custardized soup made ahead and refrigerated, or even frozen. The custards, though a little chef-y, are really delicious with the soup- and very little trouble if you've made your soup ahead. I should think they'd be an impressive beginning to a dinner party, as long as you didn't have much other stuff needing attention at the last minute. Personally, I enjoyed this soup for a weeknight supper shared with one buddy, followed by a couple of slabs of last-night's rosemary-potato pizza and pears. (The Bartletts have been delectible.)

So, I suggest making the soup base on a free day, and then chilling it. This is what I did:

Asparagus soup Part I, prepare asparagus

asparagus, fat spears 2 lbs.
excellent chicken broth 1 qt.
shallots 3
salt
pepper
butter, 3 tbsp

Cut off very end of woody part of aspargus and discard. Take 8 fat stalks, and cut off tips and bottom 3 inches. Reserve tips for soup garnish, and center portions separately for the salad. Refrigerate center portions in baggie. Put tips in a little bowl, and pour boiling water over. Let sit until cool. Drain and halve tips, refrigerate. All parts not reserved go in the soup.

In a heavy pot, melt butter. Slice the shallots thinly, then sweat them in the butter. when soft, but not browned, add the broth and the remaining asparagus, cut in one inch lengths. Bring to a boil, then simmer until the aspargus is very soft. Blend with immersion blender, or very carefully, in regular blender. (It's hot!) Put through fine sieve, correct seasoning, and refrigerate or freeze until ready to serve.

Asparagus Salad With Pistachios and Parmasan
adapted from Judy Rodgers

asparagus middles, saved from above, and sliced at an angle into very thin ovals
mache or baby greens
pistachios, lightly toasted
salt
pepper
parmesan curls, shaved off with veg peeler
very nice olive oil
white wine vinegar
a shallot, small, finely minced

Quantities are not given, as this is adaptable in many directions. The general idea is this:
Make dressing: Put the shallot in a small bowl and add a pinch of salt. Add olive oil. Whisk in vinegar to taste.
Make salad: Put the greens on a cold plate or in a cold, shallow bowl. Add asparagus and pistachios, plus dressing. Toss gently. Top with parm curls and freshly ground pepper. Serve with good bread.

Asparagus soup Part II, Custards
adapted from the Gourmet Cookbook

heavy cream 1 cup
whole milk 1/2 cup one egg plus 2 yolks
salt
white pepper
coarsely grated parmagiano reggiano 1 1/4 cups

Combine cheese, cream and milk in a small heavy pan. Bring to a boil, remove from heat, cover, and rest 30 minutes. Meanwhile, preheat oven to 350F, and butter ramekins holding a total of 12 oz. Set ramekins in a roasting pan. Strain cream mixture through a fine sieve or chinois. Press on cheese solids a bit. Reserve strained cream. In a 4 cup pyrex pitcher or the like, whisk eggs, yolks, salt and pepper. Still whisking, add cream in a slow stream. Whisk smooth, and pour into ramekins. Pour boiling water into roasting pan, until it is 1/2 way up the ramekins.Bake until set completely- about 45 minutes. Cool ramekins on a rack for (only) 5 minutes. Unmold each into a soup bowl.

Two of my custards were sloppy looking, but they were all delicious. Admittedly this soup is a fussy sort of business-more fiddly than I generally care for. But the result is seriously delicious. The smooth richness and nutty flavor of the custard is just wonderful with the velvety asparagus soup-it's dreamy food. I think it was well worth it, and I'll do it again. Naturally it's nice if your custards are slickly perfect, but if they aren't, it is a minor matter, compared to the yumminess.

Asparagus Soup Part III, Finish
Add 1/2 cup of heavy cream to asparagus soup. Heat, adjust seasoning, and pour around the custards in the soup bowls. Garnish with the reserved tips and/or parm curls, if you like. Serve it up.

Illustration: "Of Spearage or Asparagus" from Gerard's Herbal -from a 1964 reprint of this 1636 classic, which I found in a used bookstore. The illustrations and the plant descriptions are a wonderful combination of fact and fantasy. I think the reason it was so inexpensive was the extensive annotations by someone who was seriously using this as a reference work to practice herbal medicine techniques. Fortunately, the pictures were left alone. The annotations are pretty amusing, but, on reflection, a little scary. I've been hoping they did not lead to the demise of the last owner. Perhaps the book was part of an estate sale?

Anniversary Toast

Cheers! Today is the first anniversary of my blog, Toast.

Few projects in my life have been as entirely entertaining and rewarding. Thanks to those of you who read Toast, and those who take time to comment; you make me grateful and happy, and frankly, surprised. I truly never imagined that anyone would notice.

I'm particularly grateful to my delightful daughter, redfox of the hungry tiger, who showed me how. It was her excellent food blog that first filled me with envy (and still does). She and S., were very patient with me, explaining basic html, and many other things, while I learned just enough to carry on.

To celebrate, I have opened a bottle of dessert wine I've been hoarding, and I bought "a gift for my blog." (I approve of the practice which has developed in some quarters, where presents are purchased by the blogger, for the blog. I do not care one whit if it is excessively cute. )

First, the gift: I bought several baby rose geranium plants, which, as you can see, I am in the process of adding to my little porch-and-steps garden, among the herb plants. This purchase was inspired by Shuna's praise of these lovelies for their subtle, sweet enchancing flavors and my increasing curiosity about cooking with flowers. I am growing some other unusual (entirely legal) items in this tiny "garden", about which, more later.

And for you, my friends, a selection of 12 Toast Posts from Year I, one from each month:

May 28, 2005: Tea and Toast Part III: Toast

June 4, 2005: Potage St. Germaine with Pea Greens and Chives

July 7, 2005: The Hunt for Chinese Chews 1957

August 13, 2005: The Other Egg Salad

September 28, 2005:Green tomato finale

October 30, 2005:The Other Muffins

Novenber 25,2005: Cookie Swap:Perfectly Plain

December 19, 2005: Meyer Lemon Tea Cake.

January 24, 2006: Baby Bokchoy Braise

February 16, 2006: Praising Muhjaddarah

March 25, 2006: On Eating flowers: Walnut Cake With Roses

Aprril 10, 2006: Preserved Pears, Rabbit, and the Best Sauce

Thanks!

Black Kale and the Last Cool-Weather Soup

I eat soup all summer long. Hot soups, scalding even; I was brought up on them year round, and enjoy them in all seasons. In the summer, I try to make soup from the nicest seasonal produce-in the winter, I take what I can get..

There is a sort of trick you can play on yourself to keep the winter produce interesting, even for those of us who live in places where nothing is growing that time of year. I copied this from my daughter, who explained it to me. I try to restrict my use of the produce available year-round(winter squash, cabbage, bitter greens, et al.) to the cool seasons.

Then, when the summer stuff is fading, it feels as if there is a new season coming in, with its own goodies. I can look forward to making cabbage or butternut squash soup, because I haven't had it for awhile, instead of just mourning the last tomatoes. It's an artificial shortage, but it works for me.I am not hard and fast, but I mostly adhere to this plan.

On a rare recent Whole Foods visit, brought about by a friend with a car, I got some gorgeous asparagus for $1.99 (!), as well as a bundle of lacinato kale, which I adore, and which does not appear at the Iggle or in my farmbox. The stunning asparagus made me realize that the summer veg are truly just around the corner. It's been rainy and a little chilly this week though. So I thought I'd ring the change in with this last winter-style soup, for dinner, and work lunches this week.

This is a soup for people who love the taste of lacinato (a/k/a black or dinosaur) kale. I am disappointed if I can't distinctly taste this very special kale when I use it in my soup. Here, the kale is not overwhelmed by other flavors, as sometimes happens with more tomato or sausage dominated kale soups. This is also the reason for using the white chard-which has a less pronounced or beety flavor than the red. If you are not besotted with the lacinato taste (I really, really adore it) you might prefer one of the more traditional kale recipes.. (Not that this one is so unusual, it's just very kale-y.) The chickpeas serve the double function of veg and thickening.

If you'd like to make some you will need:

can of chickpeas or 2 cups cooked chickpeas
2 tbsps olive oil
2 cloves garlic
small bunch lacinato kale
small bunch swiss chard (white)
a leek, washed and sliced thinly
an onion, chopped
a carrot, sliced in coins
a stalk of celery, chopped
quart homemade stock, chicken or veg-or boxed equivalent
a yukon gold potato, peeled and cubed
3 or 4 multicolored fingerling potatoes, cubed-thin skins left on
parsley-fresh chopped-a handful
freshly grayed parmesan
red pepper flakes-pref aleppo
sea salt
freshly ground pepper
lemon slice

Puree half of the chickpeas. Reserve both halves. In the oil,in a big heavy pot, sweat the carrot, onion, celery and leek. Add stock, potatoes, garlic, red pepper, pureed chickpeas,half the parsley, salt and pepper, and bring to a boil. Turn down to a gently burbling simmer. Shred the chard and kale and add to soup. Add whole chickpeas. Cook for at least an hour, on low heat, -everything should be very soft and melded. Serve sprinkled with the remaining parsley, freshly grated parm, and a grating of black pepper. Some lemon squirted on is always nice with kale.

This keeps well in fridge for several days, but doesn't freeze well-mostly because of the potatoes.

Save the Internet

If you are a blogger, or read blogs, or just care about fairness, it's time to take a stand against AT&T, Verizon, Comcast, and their ilk. Don't let them divide the internet by providing high speed loading for those who can pay them big bucks, and slow down access to what you want to write and read. Read all about it, and support the free exchange of ideas.

Don't let Congress give these companies the power to choose who they will slow down-or cut off. They could deny you access if they don't like what you say. They could prevent you from finding out all the information you need, and steer your research on products or ideas to those they favor. This is a big deal. Don't let them make these the "good old days", back when the internet was open to all.

Be heard.

Pinenut Preview: Pasta with Ricotta and Herbs

I received a delightful Mother's Day package this week, which contained, among other wondrous things, a giant pound and a half bag of pinenuts. I was gobsmacked. I have the redfox to thank for this windfall. This is the approximate quantity of pine nuts I might have expected to permit myself over a period of, say, ten years. You will be seeing a lot of celebratory pine nut cookery around here for a while, and how could that be bad?

You may be happy to hear that the consumption of pine nuts can lead to weight loss. Apparently, the oil in pine nuts has been found to the suppress the appetite of experimental subjects. Naturally I am pleased to be afforded an opportunity to shed those excess pounds by the simple expedient of eating one and one half pounds of pine nuts. Perhaps I'd best not eat them all at once, lest I fade away entirely.

I am mulling over my plans for a ricotta and pinenut tart, found at Nick Malgieri's website, which is unique in it's use of carmelized pine nuts. Mmm. Meanwhile, however, a person has got to eat. And this is what I had for supper Saturday night.

Pasta and Pine Nuts

feeds 2 for light supper or lunch

angel hair pasta 8 oz
whole milk ricotta 1/2 cup room temperature
mascarpone (opt) 1 tbsp
grated rind of 1 lemon
juice of 1 lemon
pine nuts 1/2 cup
freshly grated parmesan
oil cured black olives, handful chopped
fresh basil handful chopped
fresh chives small handful, chopped

Preheat oven to 325F. Put pasta water on to boil, with lemon juice and salt added in the water. Put pine nuts on a cookie sheet and cook for about 7 minutes, or until they start to smell nice. Remove from oven. Put most of the pine nuts and everything else but the herbs and parm in a biggish bowl. Cook the pasta. Drain, saving pasta water. Add hot pasta to bowl and toss around to mix all ingredients well. Add a little pasta water until the pasta sauce is a bit creamy. Toss in fresh herbs. Decant into 2 shallow individual bowls. Grate fresh pepper over, scatter remaining pinenuts on top, and then parmesan.

Consume with bread and maybe some grilled fresh asparagus-done in olive oil and sprinkled with sea salt, coarse pepper and fennel seed-yum. (gorgeous-$1.99 this week!)

I loved my supper. But I just didn't feel thinner. Better have some more.

It's not Iams: The Buckwheat Digressions

Reader/friend Lynn D. told me about some lovely Italian buckwheat cookies, and linked me to the recipe, which I had been planning to try ever since. She served them with a rhubarb dish, cleverly noting that buckwheat and rhubarb are botanic relatives. I did try them, and they are wonderful. Yes, I know they look like catfood, only bigger. But they are great.

The story, which can be found, with the recipe, at Melissa Clark's website is interesting, too. I am a huge fan of buckwheat, in all formats, and I'm just going to have to go on about that a little bit. Kasha-or buckwheat groats (varniskas-with bowtie noodles-or otherwise), buckwheat noodles (soba), and buckwheat pancakes are particular favorites. I'm sure you understand that I cannot help but digress. I promise to return to the cookies shortly.

Re buckwheat pancakes (in memorium): Pamela's, a Pittsburgh breakfast institution, used to serve the world's best buckwheat pancakes. This diner-like restaurant now has a number of locations, include a retro-hipsterish one in the Strip District. (That's the one in the photo.) The original is the smallest, and is located in my Squirrel Hill neighborhood. There is a line on the street every weekend and holiday morning for breakfast at one of the crowded formica tables. Pamela's is famous for their pancakes, which are dinnerplate size, thin and crepe-like, and sport a delightful crisp lacy border. These were once available in "regular" or buckwheat.

I was devoted to the buckwheat ones; they were heavenly- thin, delicate and lacy, with the dark, slightly caramel nuttiness of buckwheat. One day several years ago, I ordered them, and was told that they were no longer offered. The reason? "Not enough people liked them." I told the cook on duty that I personally liked them enough for 10 normal people, but she was unmoved.

I suppose that I could have figured out an approximation to make at home, but I don't really want to make them at home. I love to eat breakfast out, so I'm eating the "regular" ones at Pamela's now, when I go there. Eating an elaborate breakfast out is a huge treat in so many ways. All the best breakfast goodies are rare events in our lives these days. Few of us now work physically, dawn to dusk, burning calories like racehorses. If we ate this kind of thing all the time, we would be leaden. So when we do indulge, it is a special occasion.

Then too, when we eat breakfast out, once replete, we can head straight home for the couch and newspaper, or (if virtuous) for a long walk to work it all off, either one without paying the price in soapsuds and pot scrubbing. Big greasy breakfasts are hell to clean up, and look depressing soaking in the sink, if you leave them for later. Finally, the best of breakfasts out are generally much, much cheaper than mediocre restaurant dinners. You see my point.

Having wandered far from the cookies, I might as well go on about my personal Vegetarian Kasha Varnishkas (hereinafter "K.V.").This classic combo of buckwheat groats, bowtie noodles and gravy, is incredibly simple to make when it it prepared as a side with a brisket in gravy. You simple mix the cooked kasha and pasta, stir in some gravy, sprinkle with parsley, and there you are.

But what if you have vegetarian family members? You wouldn't have made a brisket if you weren't feeding a group-often a large family gathering. Almost any such gathering these days will include a few vegetarians. It is patently unfair at a festve meal to offer side dishes which are boring without the addition of puddles of meat gravy. I have thus devised the following version, which is good with and without meat gravy. (Those of us who love gravy on our KV need not suffer a version incompatible with gravy.)

The key is a combination of mushrooms-dried and fresh, onions, and asian-style dark sesame oil. You soak some dried mushrooms overnight in dry sherry, if you have some, or otherwise, water. The strained soaking liquid is used as part of the liquid when making your kasha according to the package directions, including also a snippet of thyme. The kasha is combined with a hefty helping of slowly carmelized onions, the sauteed fresh and dried mushrooms, and a glop of the sesame oil, as well as salt and pepper. Mix with cooked bowties, sprinkle with some fresh herbs, and you have KVs good with, or without, some nice gravy.

Now then, the cookies:

This is an easy recipe, though once you see the dough, I don't think you will be inclined to try piping it through a pastry bag- it is quite stiff. The ball and fork option is fine, and I think the more rustic cookie is cuter, anyhow. Personally, if I make homemade cookies, I like the recipients to be able to tell they are homemade, without having to say so. This is sheer vanity, of course. But you see, if you must say so, it sounds as if 1) you think you are a big deal because you made cookies, and 2) you think you are so clever that your cookies look like the work of a pro, so you need to explain. Obviously, I spend too much time thinking about the trivial.

In any event-I love these homely cookies, which are subtle and addictive. The distinctive buckwheat caramel is there, but they are hardly sweet at all. They are sandy, yet crisp.I can see that they would go beautifully with that rhubarb, and/or something creamy and sweet. There is a yummy after taste, rich and dark. I am wondering if my elderly mother will like them . She generally enjoys cookies which are plain and rich, to have with her tea, and has been a bit disappointed that I haven't baked her any recently. I'm not sure how she feels about buckwheat, though. I will take her some of these to the Mother's Day festivities at my brother's place, along with her present (BBC Mystery dvds), and see what she thinks.

And just one more final disconnected buckwheat rambling: It is apparently very important to get buckwheat flour fresh, and keep it refrigerated, or in the freezer. Melissa Clark and Shuna both say so, and I believe them. If I had access to Anson Mills buckwheat, I would have used that, but this wonderful company does not offer their buckwheat flour in small quanties by mail-order (You can get their other stuff, though, like excellent cornmeal, in household-sized quantities, and it is beyond great.). I got Bob's Red Mill buckwheat flour at the Iggle.,and popped it in the freezer-but it was not chilled at the Iggle, and I don't know if it was sitting out awhile-or not. Probably not, as the cookies were delicious.