Five Onion Confit

October 8, 2011

I grew up expecting to have to eat the onions on my plate whether I wanted them or not. That’s just how it went at our house, and I didn’t question it.  Good thing I’ve always liked them.   Although I remember my mother telling me my grandfather liked a good onion sandwich, we had them sliced and in salads — mostly yellow onions because they were a staple — but scallions were included once in a while, along with red onions.  Now that I think of it, red onions made their appearance when we lived in Spain because they were served in the cafes, often included with cucumbers and tomatoes in a very light water and red wine vinegar marinade.  No lettuce, just a sprinkle of salt.  It was wonderful.

Onions were chopped and fried in bacon fat for the liver my mother enjoyed so much, and as much as I didn’t want a taste of the liver, I could sit all day and inhale the aroma of those onions.  Chopped onions went into simple spaghetti sauce to flavor it, or in goulash along with other vegetables and pasta, because it didn’t seem right to not have them in the mix.  My mother’s meatloaf wouldn’t be meatloaf without chopped onions.  They were quartered and added to our Sunday pot roast with carrots and celery as well, but I didn’t appreciate their flavor in the braise.  Perhaps it was the sweetness — something I expected in the more predictable foods kids enjoy — not an onion.  I still had to eat them. I liked them best raw on burgers, or a salami sandwich, the crunch and sharp spike of flavor something that was definitely missed if it wasn’t included.

Maybe it was the onion soup my father made one year before a holiday dinner.  I’m surprised I don’t remember the details of his making it, but the flavor of those long cooked onions nestled in a rich broth gave me a different perspective on just how unique the sweetness of caramelized onions could be.  I’d never had onion confit, though, and wondered just how different it might be.  Would the sweetness that it took me years to appreciate be more intense and if it was, would I enjoy it?  Based on many of the recipes I’ve come across where onion confit or jam is included, I’m thinking yes.

But would one type of onion suffice?

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My meager pot of tomato plants has finished producing and been cut back to a few stalks jutting from the dark soil they’ve been planted in since May, waiting for me to pull them up.  But I’m lucky to have friends whose plants are still producing and thankfully willing to share.  The challenge for me at times is knowing what to do with them because my own plants have rarely produced more than what we can eat in a salad.  Often my timing is bad in being able to enjoy the lot — just how many tomatoes can two people eat at one sitting, right?  Especially when my husband forgets to bring them home right away and they’re, well, soft.

Into the freezer they go — stems and all.  I put them on a metal tray until they’re hard as rocks, then pour them into a plastic bag for later use.  Last year I managed to save a bag until mid-February when it was a welcome addition to a hearty tomato squash soup.  This year, I’ve already used one frozen bag, but still have two more in the freezer and will enjoy deciding what to make with them.

I’ll have to blame my need to use some of my frozen homegrown tomato stash on this Irish Blue Cheese and Tomato Soup recipe from Soup Chick.   I’m a pushover to begin with because I love tomato soup, but I’ve never had it with blue cheese — let alone bacon.  I was completely intrigued, so of course I had to try it.  I had the tomatoes, but the recipe requires that they are roasted.  Roasting isn’t a problem because I’ve roasted tomatoes several different ways and truly enjoy the flavor.  However I’d never roasted thawed, frozen tomatoes.

I love a good food experiment, don’t you?  Especially when the result is such a satisfyingly, tasty soup.

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Plum Cake

September 27, 2011

Years ago when I purchased my favorite cookbook, Baking with Julia, I began to steadily go through it, deciding which recipes to try.  This practice isn’t all that unusual, but at the time, baking was something I reserved for special occasions — birthdays, dinner parties, holidays — and always planned for on weekends, or when I had vacation time.  If someone had asked, I’d have said I was more of a cook than a baker, and not always confident that what I baked would turn out as I wanted it to, so kept things safe with the basics. Cake, an occasional bread pudding, and pie were the norm.

The dust cover of the cookbook is now worn and slightly torn in a few places with spots and spills on many of the pages.  Its sturdy binding has relaxed quite a bit, allowing it to comfortably lie open on my kitchen counter, sometimes for several days while I’m thinking about a particular recipe, glancing at it as I pass, wondering when the right time might be to indulge myself with a treat that doesn’t take a lot of time, or tackle something more complicated instead.

I think of so many different things when I open this particular cookbook, and most are not about the recipes.  I think of younger boys still at home, occasions celebrating a kitchen renovation, or springtime in all its glory and a back yard groomed to perfection with my mother’s love and sweat.  I think of a dinner party for six that lasted well into the night, meticulously planned for, each course paired with the perfect wine.  I remember all that was lovely about a very special house, no longer ours to enjoy.  So many things beyond recipes.

I don’t know that it matters which recipe I tried first from Baking with Julia, but of the 98 cookbooks I currently own, it’s the one I have baked more from than any other.  Of course there are quite a few recipes I haven’t tried, and several which continue to taunt me, all seemingly beyond my ability or perhaps patience to contend with– the Pain de Camagne, for example, which is made by a very old chef-levain method requiring one to “capture and nurture airborne wild yeast” for the dough.   But I have tried many more than once, like the Oven-Roasted Plum Cakes.

I’d waited forever to try the recipe, but when I saw a small bin of Italian prune plums at the market one day– something I’d not come across before — I knew they were destined for those plum cakes.  I sorted through the deeply purple oval-shaped fruit to collect a small bag, noticing their dusty skins and stems still clinging to most.  Some were quite firm, and others soft and fragile, like a ripe fig might feel.  Or persimmon.  I chose the firm plums finding that once sliced, the fruit easily separated from the stone unlike other plums such as Santa Rosas, which aren’t as cooperative.  The interior color is a beautiful mix of melon and chartreuse and the flavor not as sweet as I’d thought it would be, but pleasant all the same.

They would be perfect for a whole plum cake rendition and thoughts while baking about times fondly remembered.

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Green Smoothie

September 20, 2011

green smoothie recipe from sass & veracity

Oh, the over indulgences of the weekend.  New recipes tried and sampled a bit too much.  Football season in full gear, so lounging more than we normally might, our comfies donned, windows snapped shut against chilly and unexpectedly damp breezes.  Projects stalled while we stay indoors making like house potatoes.

Thank goodness for Monday morning and snapping back to a schedule.  For thinking about all that might be accomplished in a week’s time.  Promising myself to get back to healthy eating.

Exercise?

Hmmm…maybe.

In the meantime, smoothies help.  I’ve become addicted to them — especially the green ones.

So very, very good.

What ingredients do you like in your green smoothies?

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It’s late afternoon and the day has been more busy than expected.

You glance at the clock realizing you haven’t given dinner much thought and since take out was on the menu last night,  you’re probably going to have to make dinner tonight.  You don’t really want to make dinner because you’re tired, but you’re also hungry and something with all the right flavors would really hit the spot.  A mental scan of the fridge and pantry contents isn’t adding up to much — or is it?

There’s sliced cheese, some deli meat, and a few jars of things like roasted peppers, pepperoncinis, and olives.  You know you always have onions, some salad greens. Maybe even a slice of bacon or two.  Wait.  Isn’t there some left over chicken as well?

A quick stop at the store for some crusty bread and it looks like sandwich night is in order.

No fuss, no muss.

Delicious.

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One of the things my husband will tell you I ask him is whether he’s had anything green during the day.  He’s fairly patient with this interrogation because he’s intelligent and knows that ultimately, regardless of what he eats, there have to be vegetables in his diet– especially brightly colored vegetables.  But sometimes, green is enough, and often easier because all it takes to incorporate it into a day’s worth of meals is to have a salad.  A big salad.

I know many think salad is a warm weather dish, but to me, it’s one of the easiest ways to make sure vegetables are on the plate.  Fresh vegetables.  Nothing fancy — just a mix of what sounds good, what’s in the fridge, or what’s in season.  And?

The salad needs to take up half the plate.

I grew up eating salads made exclusively with iceberg lettuce.  I’m sure many of us did, and from what we now know, it’s because that’s what was in the market.  Zero choice.  But one of the first types of lettuce I discovered when I was freshly moved out of my mother’s house was Boston Butter Lettuce.  It was beautiful, delicate, and something I’d never seen before.  Although I originally saw it in small heads placed in rows upside down in the produce rack, more and more, the heads I’ve become accustomed to seeing are larger.  Much larger, and sealed safely inside plastic containers to keep them from being bruised.  I felt decadent the first time I bought a head of butter lettuce,  enjoying the tender leaves with all kinds of tasty salad ingredients, and thinking that yes, it tasted a bit on the buttery side.

During our short trip to Laguna Beach this past summer, we had a late lunch on the balcony overlooking the beach at The Beach House.  Although we both agreed the food was wonderful, I especially enjoyed the completely green salad made of a whole head of butter lettuce and all other green ingredients tucked under the leaves. Avocado, green striped tomatoes, green onions — wonderful.

When I saw the “Boston Lettuce Salad with Herbs” in the September issue of Food & Wine, I decided to make a similar version of a delicious Boston Butter Lettuce Salad.

Perfect for dinner, a special occasion, or just lunch all by yourself.

Check off your greens for the day!

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