The Pressure's On

Have I told you yet that Greg organized a chapter of the National Kickball league right here in New Haven? This was to be a summer of sports and outdoor recreation. We had plans, oh there were plans for fitness and getting in shape... well, poor guy, things don't always go as planned. Greg had a youtube-worthy moment this weekend, and it might have been worth it if only someone had a camera on them. I was working on Saturday so I did not get to witness the event myself, but, apparently, he made a spectacular swan dive towards the giant bouncing rubber ball in order to tag someone out. Unfortunately, by making this amazing save, he landed awkwardly on his side and broke his shoulder.

In case you ever break your shoulder, here's what to expect: horrible pain for the first seven days, an uncomfortable sling that rubs your skin raw, Vicodin, and no use of your arm for 6 weeks. This, and the ER doctor said that his was the slightest injury he could have made. (Better than dislocating a shoulder, apparently).

Greg has been a real trouper about the whole ordeal. There's not much he can do at the moment except watch movies and be uncomfortable on the couch. There's not much I can do for him, either, which makes me feel helpless. So I decided to make him something uber-healthy for Greg to eat on Sunday.

I'm not really a "gadgetty" kind of kitchen person, but a friend of our's gifted us a pressure cooker recently. She passed it along with constant assurances that her husband makes spectacular tofu dishes using it. I haven't quite been able to duplicate the dish that she described (she said it becomes dense and spongey, with a texture akin to frozen tofu), but I have found this new kitchen appliance useful for cooking things rapidly. I've found that, in the last, final stages of cooking, when the grains are drying up and absorbing moisture from every source possible, the tofu can get a little drier and hole-ier.

Pressure cooker tofu is nothing dramatic (for me, so far), but it the method I used to make this healthy salad is simple and the resulting dish is delicious and refreshing. The tofu has a wonderful texture that contrasts nicely with the wild rice, and the flavor creeps up on you: first nutty and grainy, then a burst of citrus flavor and olive oil. Next time I might add a little cilantro. Other possible additions? Toasted chopped walnuts, a little feta, pine nuts, or a squeeze of lemon juice.

 

Wild Rice Salad with Citrus and Tofu

What I liked better than the texture of this tofu (although that was good too) is the flavor. By cooking the tofu in the pressure cooker with orange juice, the citrus flavor thoroughly infused each cube of tofu. No weird sour/beany taste left.

 

Slice into 1/2" cubes:

1 package firm tofu

Add tofu to pressure cooker pot, along with

1 cup wild rice

1 cup orange juice

1.5 cups water

A glug of olive oil

Fit the lid onto the pressure cooker, turn the stove to high, and wait for the steam valve to open. Lower the burner so that the pot emits steam in steady spurts (~medium heat), and cook for ~15-18 minutes. (Keep an ear out and nose out for the sounds and smell of a dry pot/burning rice. Better to stop the pressure cooker sooner and finish the rice on the stove if need be). Meanwhile, wash and slice:

1 bunch beet greens (substitute spinach or arugula)

Peel and slice into 1/4" cubes:

2 oranges (I used one Valencia Orange and one Blood Orange)

When the pressure cooker is done, release the steam valve. Let  the rice and tofu cool for a minute (taste the rice; if it doesn't seem done, continue cooking on low heat). In a separate pot, steam the greens until wilted (~5-7 minutes) then shock in a bowl of ice water. Squeeze out the excess water and chop finely. Whisk together:

1 tbsp honey

1 tbsp cider vinegar

1 tbsp olive oil

1/2 cup orange juice

1/2 tsp ground sea salt

1/4 tsp freshly ground black pepper

Add the dressing, along with the greens and orange slices to the tofu and rice. Toss together and adjust seasoning if necessary.

Wild What

I have a confession to make. When I deviate from my mostly vegetarian palette... when I indulge in what I try to be sure is humane, ecologically raised food... when I find myself wanting some meat... I want... well, meat. I mean real meat, powerful, chewy, flavorful meat. Don't give me any of that chicken breast white crap: I want bacon, chicken thighs, or wild boar.

Wild Boar? What?

No, seriously, it's pretty much my new best friend. Let me list the reasons:

(1) My primary concern in choosing what I eat is sustainability. Wild Boar are sometimes Feral Pigs, which exist in annoying, pest-like abundance - reducing the local population of feral animals does the environment, relatively speaking, a favor. Even when "farm-raised", Boar primarily forage for food and are generally raised with less grain than pigs or cattle. This species can be farmed on a much smaller ecological footprint and with fewer antibiotics than grain-fed animals. So, whether the Wild Boar is obtained from a local feral pig population or is raised on a large acerage farm, I feel good making a choice to minimize any ecological impact.

(2) My second concern in choosing what I eat is to ensure fair animal husbandry. Not all Wild Boar is "Wild", but truly free-roaming meat can be located quite easily. I eat it happily: these animals have a good life nosing around in the forest for mushrooms and other edibles.

(3) My third concern in choosing what I eat is based on health. The health benefits of eating wild game meat are well documented (akin to eating grass fed versus grain fed beef)

(4) Although chicken, pork or fish are occasionally on our menu, Greg and I will probably never eat beef. When your husband knows some who died from CJD, it kind of turns you off of the whole species, at least until America starts testing its animals. Wild boar fills my otherwise unfillable craving for red meat.

(5) Wild Boar is flavorful and delicious.

(6) My local market carries a steady supply from this fantastic company.

(7) It's the sort of thing that would make Michael Pollan proud.

Prepared well, the Wild Boar I've had has been very flavorful and tender. The last time I tasted some at a restaurant, it literally fell apart on the fork. The prepared sausages we've been eating at home have a wonderfully delicate texture and a hearty, beef-like flavor. So, we decided it was time to try making a boar roast ourselves.

When I searched for a good guide on cooking wild boar, I quickly came up short. There actually aren't many recipes on the internet and many of the recipes I found did not distinguish between different cuts of meat. The dinner I worked on tonight was my best shot at uniting all of the advice I read: marinating, slow cooking, pairing with complementary flavors and textures.

So, how'd everything go? Well, okay, the Wild Boar Roast was dry. Very dry. Bone dry. Chewy, actually. The wild mushroom pan sauce was the true star of the show: it was out of this world for "savory". The Boar pan drippings lent a meaty flavor to the mushrooms that I know I could never achieve with just wine and salt alone, and the last bit of butter emulsified everything into satiny goodness. I could have licked the pan - it was that good. As for the meat, the texture left much to be desired, but we devoured it anyway since the flavor was spot on. The red wine and sage complemented the rich, wild flavor of the Boar wonderfully. I wouldn't change the flavors of this dish, only the cooking method. Here are a few guesses for next time:

- Choose a different cut (although, the "mini-roast" available at my local market is dirt cheap and I'm not sure I want to spend, say, $60)

- Cook the meat longer (akin to brisket)

- Marinate longer (some recipes suggest up to five days)

- Marinate with something other than red wine (eg vinegar)

- Create more surface area for the meat to be exposed to the pan sauce while cooking (eg a ragu or bolognese)

In the meantime, if you're curious about Boar but don't want any hassle, these sausages are amazing.

I know these mushrooms and polenta circles look awful, but oh my gosh it was delicious. So flavorful.

Wild Boar Roast with Wild Mushrooms and Polenta

1 Wild Boar roast, 1-1.5lb (for example)

2 tbsp olive oil

2 cups Red Bordeaux, or other hearty wine (more examples)

1 med onion

3-4 med carrots

6-8 cloves garlic

~2 tsp chopped fresh sage or 3/4 tsp dried sage)

12 oz cremini or baby bella mushrooms

4 oz wild mushrooms of choice(eg, Maitake, AKA Hen of the Woods)

2 tbsp butter

Extra Olive Oil

Polenta***

Add the roast and 1 cup of red wine to a plastic ziptop bag. Press out all of the air, seal the bag, and marinate for 6-8 hours in the refrigerator.*

About 3 hours before dinner, preheat the oven to 275 degrees. Cut the onion in half and cut each half in 4 wedges. Peel and slice the carrots into 1/4" medallions. Peel the garlic and leave whole. Set the vegetables aside. Slice off the woody ends of the stems, then halve or quarter the cremini or bella mushrooms so that they're all of similar size. Roughly chop the wild mushrooms. Set the mushrooms aside.

Add all of the olive oil to a cast iron dutch oven or heavy bottom casserole dish. Bring to medium high heat. Carefully place the roast into the pan: it's going to sizzle quite a bit. Brown the roast for 1-2 minutes per side. Make sure the roast gets a nice color on each side. And by "side", I mean all sides: at least four turns around plus two ends.

Once the roast is evenly browned, add the vegetables and cover with a good quantity of freshly ground pepper. Sprinkle 1/2 tsp of salt on top. Cover the dutch oven and place in a 275 degree oven. Baste every 30 minutes, turning the roast, until the internal temperature reaches 170 degrees** and the vegetables are cooked through. (Add the sage right at the end).

Slice cold polenta to 1/2" thick circles, place on a cookie sheet and brush with olive oil. Sprinkle with freshly grated black pepper. When the roast is cooked, remove the casserole dish and bring the oven temperature up to 350. Place the polenta circles in the oven and cook until lightly browned and soft throughout, ~20 minutes.

Meanwhile, remove the cooked vegetables and roast to a platter, covering with silver foil and a towel to keep warm. Reserve the pan drippings and juice in the dutch oven. Add the mushrooms to this broth. Cook over medium heat with the lid off, stirring often, until the mushrooms begin to caramelize and the liquid is almost completely reduced (~10 minutes). Deglaze with an additional cup of red wine and repeat the process (~10 minutes). When about 1/2 cup of juice is left, turn off the heat and stir in 2 tbsp butter. Salt to taste.

Slice the roast as desired. Plate the roast with several polenta rounds on the side. Drizzle the mushroom glaze over the polenta rounds and spoon other vegetables and mushrooms on the side. Enjoy with a glass of the same wine you used to cook the boar. This dish goes well with plain Great Northern beans (recipe below).

*As I mentioned above, I probably should have marinated for longer

**Don't do what I did. The roast was in the oven for an hour and I basted it for the second time. The juices were bubbling. Out of curiosity, I took a spoon and sampled the basting liquid. It tasted horribly raw but for some reason I didn't spit it out. I checked the temperature of the liquid, which was only 140 degrees (a far cry from the required 170), and then proceeded to freak out. I am hoping that this particular boar haunch didn't host any parasites, or maybe they stay put in the meat and don't flow out into the juices. In any event, I did two shots of rum for good measure! I wanted to tell this story because some websites - D'Artagnan included - tell you that Boar is best cooked rare (like beef) and suggest a low temperature of 120. Personally (and I certainly could be wrong), I think this is a terrible idea, since foraging animals are fairly likely to pick up parasites such as these. Phrases like "burrow through the wall of your small intestine" come to mind. The only way to be safe is to cook the boar thoroughly. So, 170 degrees might worsen the toughness of the meat, but I would recommend it.

***You can make your own and cool it into a solid shape, or avoid the extra hassle and buy the tube:

Great Northern Beans, quick method

These creamy beans are flavorful enough to hold their own without extra seasoning.

1 cup Great Northern Beans, rinsed and picked over

3 cups water or broth

salt to taste

Add beans to a pot and cover with 3" of water. Cover the pot, bring to a boil and then turn off the heat. Let stand for one hour. Empty out water and rinse beans thoroughly.

Place beans back in the pot with the 3 cups of water or broth. Bring to a simmer, cover, and cook until the beans are creamy (~1 hour, depending on how old the beans are). If the beans are at all gritty or grainy, keep cooking! Salt to taste.

A Lentil Soup You Won't Soon Forget

Recipe for homemade bread to serve it this lentil soup with

In Tempe Arizona, off University Drive, sharing a plaza with a dry-cleaners, an ethiopian diner and an abandoned bank dusty, sits a yellow stuccoed cafe whose inner ceiling is strung with ivy that flourishes all year round. I visited there at least several times a month when I lived nearby, and I was almost always served by the same waiter - a curiously blue-eyed, sandy-haired 20-something man who tended to follow my friendly inquiries with some religious musing or a cryptic smile. One could never be certain if he was chemically high or spiritually high. Either way, the effect never failed to make me smile back. The restaurant was a family owned and operated Israeli Cafe called Sabuddy's, and they served The Best Lentil Soup I've ever had.

Why was it so good? At the time, I wouldn't have been able to tell you, exactly. It was thick, hearty, nourishing, and possibly umami-laden. The only identifiable components were lentils, white pepper and some potato, though its exact composition depended on the day. Its consistency varied from watery to stand-a-fork-upright, but it was always amazingly creamy and filling with a bright, yellowish color and flecks of pale white lentil skin. My friends and I never managed to get an exact recipe out of our spiritually enlightened waiter, except to confirm on more than one occasion that the soup was vegan.

Since moving away from Sabuddy's lentil soup, I have tried on many, many occasions to duplicate it. A friend and I wondered - what was the secret ingredient? Was there some vegetable or seasoning we knew nothing about? MSG? Did they sneak bacon, or maybe chicken stock in it? Some illegal drug that kept us coming back? We tried everything we could think of, except the problem was there that there wasn't much to try save carrots, celery, potato, and spices. Homemade lentil soup was never the same as what was served at Sabuddy's.

That is, homemade lentil soup was never the same until I discovered these:

It was the type of lentils that made the difference, and my eyes were suddenly open to a world of flavor.

What do you think of when someone says "lentil" to you? The typical brown and green varieties are a bit bland - filling, yes, but lacking in any culinary oomph or interest on their own. When I started learning more about this often overlooked legume, I was surprised to find a diversity of form and flavor that is not properly appreciated in American cuisine. Lentils have been around for more than 9,000 years. Although often considered peasant food, lentils have endured in a variety of cuisines in the Near East, India and the Mediterranean - probably because of their remarkable flavor, excellent nutritional value and ease of preparation. Pair lentils with a grain and you will be providing your body with a complete set of essential amino acids - good for vegetarians. This dream dictionary claims that if a young girl dreams of lentils, she is dissatisfied with her lover, though I might take a less Freudian approach to the matter. I was also amused to find out that in the Old Testament, Esau gave up his birthright to Jacob for a bowl of lentil soup - perhaps my biblically inclined waiter was hinting at more than my agnostic (and recipe-inquiring) mind could appreciate.

Today, I decided to try experiment with the several kinds of lentils sitting in my pantry. The cooking technique for lentils is quite straightforward: rinse lentils in four changes of water prior to cooking, do not soak, and do not salt or add acidic ingredients until you are ready to serve the dish (both of which would toughen the lentils). Cooking times will vary, and you can choose to halt the cooking process earlier to drain water and retain the lentil shape, or you can boil them down into a creamy stew. As with any legume, skimming foam off the top of the boiling water and cooking them thoroughly will help make them easier to digest. Here are four different types of lentils all prepared the same way:

Type	Color	Flavor/ Texture	Lentil : water ratio	For intact lentils	For softer lentils
Brown / Common	Think army fatigues	Mild, watery Firm, holds shape	1:3	30 min*	>60 min
Harvest Gold	Yellow	Hearty, nutty Very soft	1:2.5	15 min	>30 min*
Petite Crimson / Egyptian	Red, hulled and split	Hearty, meaty Mush	1:2.5	10 min	>30 min*
Beluga / Black / Urad	Black	Fruity and fragrant, sweet Very firm, holds shape well, glossy	1:3	30 min*	>60 min*

*Lentil is best suited for this texture

Note: Older lentils require more water and longer cooking times. These are my very-approximate estimates based on the particular packages of lentils I had. Stir and taste often, adding more cooking liquid as necessary. Thoroughly cooked lentils will be creamy through the entire bite.

And here is, as best as I can duplicate it, Sabuddy's lentil soup. I suspect their version could be even easier to prepare than mine.

Sabuddy-Style, The Best Lentil Soup

Serves: well, that depends on how hungry you are. About two.

2 tbsp olive oil

1 small onion, diced

1 tsp coriander, 1 tsp white pepper

2-4 garlic cloves, minced

1 cup petite crimson "red" lentils, rinsed thoroughly and picked over*

2-3 cups water or stock (I'd actually avoid vegetable stock here - use free-range, organic chicken stock if you have it, or else just water)

1 small Russet potato, cubed to 1/2"

Salt and black pepper to taste

A lemon wedge, if you so desire

*If you can't find red or yellow lentils (check the bulk food section of natural groceries) you might be stuck. Green / brown / black / French lentils will simply not work in this recipe.

Heat the olive oil in a soup pot until it shimmers. Turn heat to medium and add onion, coriander and white pepper to the pot. Cook, stirring, until the onion is translucent. Turn heat to medium-low and add garlic, lentils, water or stock and potatoes. Cover and simmer for 45-60 minutes, stirring often as the soup thickens.

The lentils will soften and completely break down to the point where it looks like you pureed the whole thing in a blender; then, the soup is done. Add extra water or stock if necessary and don't be afraid to cook the soup for longer than stated here: the final soup will have the consistency of a smooth, thin porridge and it will be very creamy. It will thicken as it cools.

Salt and pepper to taste. Serve with good bread and a squeeze of lemon juice.

Notice the powdery stuff on the yellow lentils? That's talc - part of the reason why you need to wash lentils very thoroughly

Toasted Bulgur Wheat

 

  

Bulgur is prepared by parboiling, drying and grinding whole wheat berries. This nutty grain is my go-to recipe for potlucks or dinner parties. Bulgur, in my mind, is a wonder-grain for vegetarians. It's not packed in amino acids like Quinoa, but what it lacks in protein, it makes up for in flavor. Once toasted with oil in a pan, the wheat grains release a wonderful nutty flavor that complements roasted vegetables quite well. The fact that most people haven't had bulgur makes this dish a pleasant surprise.

As an added bonus? Leftover bulgur tastes even better the next day.

The recipe I have listed here is quite time consuming. I don't always invest an entire afternoon to prepare bulgur wheat; in fact, for most dinners, I whip something together in less than 30 minutes by skipping the roasted vegetables (I stir in a little chopped onion or parsley instead).  Toasted bulgur on its own is amazing. You can also substitute whatever is in your pantry - I have made this with cauliflower, broccoli, asparagus, onion, garlic, tomatoes, zucchini, carrots, mushrooms of all sorts, and squash. If you wish, you could stir in chopped nuts, feta, parsley or roasted garlic at the end. It will taste like winter comfort food no matter what, I promise.

To shorten this recipe, you can chop, toss and roast all of the vegetables together at once. Doing them in batches didn't bother me since I was cleaning while I cooked, but if you're in a rush, just roast everything on several pans all at once. Keep an eye on things to make sure the vegetables don't burn. When you substitute other vegetables, note that denser vegetables (eg, carrot) will take more time and thus need to be chopped smaller than watery vegetables (eg, zucchini).

Roasted Vegetables with Toasted Bulgur Wheat

Serves: 10-12

 

Lots of olive oil

Salt and Pepper

 

1 head cauliflower

1 bunch asparagus

1 small eggplant

1 medium zucchini

1 onion

4 medium portobella mushrooms

 

2 cups bulgur wheat, medium-course grind

4 cups water or stock*

1 tsp salt, 1 tsp freshly ground black pepper, 1/2 tsp cayenne pepper, 1 1/2 tsp ground sage

 

Preheat the oven to 350.  Prepare and roast the vegetables in four batches. While roasting one set, prepare the next set of ingredients, tossing each with plenty of olive oil, salt and pepper before its time in the oven.  While roasting vegetables, be sure to stir often so that they do not burn. (1) Peel any green leaves off of the cauliflower and slice into 3/4" sheets. Remove tough part of main stem, if there's any of it left, and then chop or pull apart cauliflower florets until everything is bite sized. Toss with liberal amount of olive oil and salt and pepper, pour into a large baking dish or cookie pans and roast until tender and browned on the edges (~45 minutes, depending). (2) Hold a test piece of asparagus by each end and bend until it snaps. Using the length of this stalk as a guide, trim the rest of the asparagus to the right length. Roast for ~15 minutes. (3) Peel and cube (1/2") the eggplant; salt excessively and leave in a colander for 20 minutes, then rinse off the salt and squeeze out all the water you can.  Chop or slice the zucchini into 1/2" thick pieces. Dive the onion. Roast all of these together for ~25 minutes. (4) Slice the portobellas to 1/4" thickness. Roast for ~10 minutes. When you're done, reserve any pan drippings and add to the bulgur.

 

At some point in this process, prepare the bulgur. It can sit without getting mushy. Add 4 tbsp olive oil to a large, heavy bottom pan. Add bulgur and cook over medium-high heat, stirring frequently until the bulgur is toasted to a deep honey-brown color. Don't burn it, but get close! Add all of the vegetable stock and spices at once, cover, and simmer over medium-low for 20-30 minutes. Check often, as the cooking time will depend on what kind of bulgur you use. When done, the bulgur should taste nutty; it will be mostly tender with some al dente pieces, but it should not "stick to your molars", as my husband puts it. If the bulgur starts getting dry, just stir in more stock 1/2 cup at a time. Salt and pepper to taste.

 

Spoon bulgur into a large casserole dish and cover decoratively with vegetables. Keep warm in oven until ready to serve or cool for at least an hour before placing in the fridge. This casserole will taste even better if it sits overnight.

* You can use water, chicken stock or vegetable stock for this. I use homemade vegetable stock (recipe below). If you don't want to bother with a homemade stock, look for a stock that is mostly clear (not a "broth" of pureed vegetables), and look for something with a slightly bitter, rich flavor to it. After much trial and error, I found that I prefer this stock, whose first ingredient is onion. Depending on where I shop in a particular week, I use this one too. My pet-peeve is carrot and tomato based stocks or broth purees, which are far too sweet for most vegetable dishes.  I honestly think a good stock (whichever one you use) makes a world of difference.

 

Vegetable Stock

This takes somewhere around 1 lb of vegetable scraps: onion skin peelings, the ends of carrots, mushroom stems, garlic ends, tomato bits, parsley, etc. I even throw in kale stems or spinach leaves if I have it. Avoid sulpherous vegetables like cauliflower, cabbage or broccoli. If you don't have any mushroom stems, sprinkle in a few dry mushrooms to compensate - it really makes a difference. If the vegetable scraps look low, I supplement with a chopped carrot / onion / celery, etc. Taste the broth after about an hour and decide if it seems too watery.

 

Add vegetable scraps to a large pot with 1 bay leaf, a palm-full of peppercorns, and 1 1/2 tbsp salt. Add water to cover vegetables completely (8-10 cups), cover, and simmer on high heat for 3 hours.  Cool for 1 hour or, if you live in the east like us, on a clean shelf in the pantry/mud-room /garage below 40 degrees overnight!

 

Line a colander with paper towels or cheese cloth and set over another pot or large mixing bowl. Pour stock into colander and drain, squeezing any extra broth from the vegetables as you go. Pour into a clean container and use within several days.

 

 

Wedding, part 3

Olive Oil. We went through almost a gallon of it. Thank you Costco. And friends Kim and Ian, for shopping with us so that we could use their truck to transport all of this food.

Way back when we first got engaged, Greg and I envisioned a fairly simple wedding. With budget constraints, a certain aversion to excess, and some good hard-headed-stubbornness to always do things with our own hands, we came up with the following ideas: on the beach somewhere, very small, and we'd do the catering ourselves.


We told a few people of our plans, and after hearing some laugh, others furrow their eyebrows, and quite a few say "What? Are you mad?", we completely abandoned the idea of a sit-down reception following ceremony. Our families had never met before and the thought of planning a traditional wedding sent me into increasing throws of grumpiness and bad temper: circumstances called for creativity. We decided that if tradition demanded a fanfare-filled, indecently priced, and short-lived event, we'd throw tradition to the wind and get married our way. We had a mostly private ceremony with our immediate families in Italy, and then three months later we threw a celebratory bash for our friends and the rest of our family.


Whether I love food or food loves me, or food equals love to me, I knew that our reception would be centered around food we had lovingly prepared ourselves. The last two days have been a hectic rush of culinary preparation, but I think I feel confident in saying that it worked beautifully. For my own reference mostly, I wrote down the full menu at the bottom of this post, along with a few vaguely written recipes that others might enjoy. The food was great and designed to remind us of the three weeks we spent in Italy. Of course, we made far too much for anybody to eat in a single evening. Even after having most of our guests leave with plates full of leftovers, we still have a fridge stocked with yummy bites for a minimum week's worth of snacking. There are a few things we won't be able to finish off, but I plan to make the savory items into ravioli for freezing, and any remaining bruschetta topping will be great as a fresh pasta sauce. The four cheese lasagna, as we figured after our trial run, was a huge hit. The second most popular dish were the vegan meatballs - very funny, since there were only 4 vegetarians in the whole place, and many of the meat-eaters were shocked to discover that they weren't eating meat at all.


It was a truly wonderful evening. I was so busy that I didn't get a single picture of any of it, but my dad was diligent in snapping pictures every few minutes so we will have a record of the night after all. We invited 150 people, 66 RSVP'd yes, and I'd say somewhere around 50 showed up. We brought in houseplants and little white globe lights, every pitcher and serving utensil we owned, along with big sheets of white butcher paper for covering the tables in true Italian style. Greg's mom made flower arrangements from the weeds in our front yard, and my parents patiently assembled caprese salad skewers until the Italian flag colors of red (tomato), white (mozz), and green (basil) were imprinted in their minds forever. Greg grilled until midnight on Friday, and I made 24 cups of bechemel at 8am on Saturday. My father-in-law fussed over the exact seasoning on his salt cod bakala until it was spicy and perfect, and my aunt, uncle and cousin stuffed favor bags full of photos, and chocolate covered raisins and espresso beans. It was an adventure, to be sure, but I wouldn't trade the memories for the world.


The best part? We were able to see everybody in one room. I can't help but be nostalgic about putting away the wedding dress and sad to remove theknot.com from my bookmark list, but I am filled with happiness to know how many of our friends and family were in one room on one night, sharing laughter and some four cheese lasagna. Being among so many individuals that are important to me, I couldn't escape a feeling of gratitude for all of the fortune in my life. Our love of family and friends is what our wedding has been about.


Greg and I wrote our vows in secret and recited them to each other for the first time on May 21st. I called him my "biggest surprise" and he called me his "greatest success". Even in the three months that we have been married, I see our relationship move forward in ways that I shouldn't really be surprised about after all. Saturday night cemented that bond for me. When I glanced his eye from across the room, or found myself helpless with laughter at stories of Greg's childhood, I was reminded again of how lucky I am to be with such a tremendously talented, generous and loving person. I've said it before in this blog and I'll say it again: thanks, Greg. Love you.

I won't tell you how much the Costco bill came to, but let me just say I'd like to shred my credit card right now. One of the best things I did to prepare for this was to break things down in two ways: (1) by ingredient category (dry goods, canned goods, dairy, fruit, etc), and (2) by recipe in basic steps.

6:30-7:30, Appetizers

• Fruit Platter (cantaloupes, red and and green grapes, Asian pears, oranges)
• 120 Crabcakes (Prepared by friend Stacey) with Lemon Aoili Dip
• 100 Lox Bites
• Cheese Platter (Prepared by friends Kim and Ian)
• Cracker Assortment
• Green and Black Olives

7:30-8:30, Main Dishes

• 120 Vegan Meatballs in Sauce
• 6 9x13" pans Four Cheese Lasagna
• 120 Caprese Salad Skewers
• 9lb Grilled Marinated Shrimp
• Caesar Salad (Prepared by my Sister-in-law)
• 4 9x9" Spinach Tart
• Grilled Vegetables: 10 Eggplants, 15 Zucchini, 2 each of Red, Yellow and Orange Bell Peppers
• 10 Loafs of Ciabaso Bread, with Olive Oil
• 4 Bruschetta Toppings: Tomato/Basil/Garlic, Caramelized Onion/Garlic, Pesto, and Olive Tapenade
• Salt Cod Bakala (prepared by my Father-in-law)

8:30-9:30, Dessert (prepared by my Mother-in-law)

• 100 Frosted Cupcakes
• Chocolate Cookies
• Almond Cookies
• Brownie Bites

The Booze: 100 Peroni, 20 bottles red wine, 20 bottles white wine, 15 bottles champagne




Spinach Tart
My mom's recipe. One of the few things she cooks (she is a self-admitted "food assembler", meaning that she assembles frozen vegetables and main course items into microwave dishes), and it is excellent and easy. Her version includes some sauteed mushrooms and jack cheese, but I prefer just the spinach.
Serves: 6-8

9" pie crust
16 oz frozen chopped spinach, defrosted and thoroughly squeezed to remove all traces of water
1/2 pt whipping cream
3 eggs
Salt, pepper and nutmeg

1. If using frozen pie crust, place in fridge the night before to defrost. Place on counter one hour before prepping
2. Preheat the oven to 350. Thoroughly butter a removable bottom tart pan and drape with pastry. Press pastry into all corners of the pan and sprinkle with several pinches of kosher salt. Chill for 10 minutes, and then bake until cooked through (depending on crust thickness, 5-10 minutes).
   
3. Meanwhile, stir together remaining ingredients. Add salt and pepper to taste* with a dash of nutmeg.
4. Pour filling into tart pan, and bake until set in middle, about 25 minutes.

*This will take a lot of salt and I am sorry to say that I'm just bad at measuring. The only way to check the seasoning, if you are averse to raw egg, is to microwave small bits until they cook through.


Grilled Vegetables

Eggplant, or other firm-fleshed vegetable
Equal parts olive oil and balsamic
Salt and Pepper

1. Slice eggplant (or other vegetable) to 1/2" thickness (a mandoline helps).
2. Marinate overnight with equal parts oil and balsamic vinegar
3. Grill the next day, seasoning each side well with salt and pepper

Four Cheese Lasagna
(Click link for recipe)


Caramelized Onion/Garlic Bruschetta Topping

Olive Oil
2 large yellow or sweet onions
1 head garlic
Salt and Pepper to taste

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Start a heavy bottom pan warming on stovetop with olive oil to coat
2. Slice garlic in half. Brush cut sides with generous amounts of olive oil. Wrap, cut sides up, in silver foil and bake for 45-60 minutes, until cloves have steamed through and begun to caramelize (wait for them to turn a golden color. They'll get very sticky when they're done!). Squeeze out garlic cloves into a small dish and set aside.
   
3. Slice onions to 1/8-1/4" thick rings. Add to warm pan and stir to coat with olive oil. Turn heat to medium-low and watch onions carefully, continuously stirring so that they evenly brown without sticking. It will take 30-40 minutes for them to reach a golden color, and you can add more olive oil if things get dry.
   
4. Puree onion mixture with garlic in food processor until smooth. Salt and pepper to taste (it will take a lot of salt)

Lox Bites

Assemble the following on small crostini round: 1/8" slice of cucumber, slice of lox, 1/2 tsp softened cream cheese and sprig of dill


Caprese Salad Skewers

Marinate small mozzarella balls in Italian seasonings, garlic and olive oil at least overnight. Slide the following onto each skewer: 1-2 grape tomatoes, basil leaf, mozzarella ball, and slice of proscuitto. Drizzle with olive oil.

We kept our to-do list on the fridge. Each little paper was a dish, and it actually helped things stay super organized.

Artichokes Braised with Red Wine

Braised Artichokes. Two words that mean one thing: effort. This recipe is not difficult by any means, but if you do try it make sure that you are in the mood to have many tiny spines prick into your fingers over the course of an hour as you prep the artichokes, and that you're in the mood to get a wine and chicken-broth based facial for an hour as you braise them slowly in a cast iron pot. This is a hot and tedious recipe, but it's totally worth it.



Because the thing is, who doesn't like to eat artichokes? They're expensive and a pain in the you-know-what to prepare, but when you're done, the result is a tender, creamy, flavorful veggie based flesh that can be used to blend other flavors or can be simply enjoyed on its own, with as little adornment as a splash of lemon juice, or if you're feeling real frisky, a pat of melted butter. Artichokes are good. Real good. Sometimes I wonder what random cave-person or hunter-gatherer plucked, peeled, cored and cooked an artichoke on total whim before realizing that it was edible. Let's thank them for it!


This recipe packs a real punch in an I-hope-you-like-red-wine sort of way. With a solid 1/4 cup of red wine for each tiny little baby artichoke, make sure you pick something you'd drink on its own (especially because you're going to be left with exactly two cups of wine for drinking). The rest of the recipe is fairly simple. I chose flavors that would be relatively mild compared to the red wine. Having made this recipe a while back, I've thought about what would improve this: next time, I'll sprinkle chopped toasted walnuts and crumbled blue cheese on top, and maybe I'd stir in some chopped porcini mushrooms with the pancetta.


I needed something mild and creamy to serve this with, so as to balance strength of the artichoke and wine flavor. I made a lemon and saffron risotto with ricotta cheese. I didn't measure anything so I couldn't tell you the recipe, but I would suggest you try it on your own (just stir in ricotta instead of your favorite cheese, along with a splash of fresh squeezed lemon juice, lemon zest and saffron.) If you don't make a risotto to go alongside, make sure whatever you pair this dish with complements the braised artichokes. I'd avoid anything with a red sauce.


By the way, guess what the cool part about braising artichokes in red wine is? They start off looking like this:



And end up looking like this:



Apparently the edges absorb red wine but the centers don't!




Artichokes Braised with Red Wine
Serves: 2, maybe 4 if you have other sides

1/4 cup olive oil
1 tsp red pepper flakes
2 tsp freshly ground black pepper
2 oz Italian Pancetta (substitute bacon, or ommit)
8-10 Baby Artichokes
2 cups good, dry red wine
2 cups organic, free-range chicken broth
4 cloves garlic
Baby spinach and arugula for serving

1. Fill a large bowl with cold water and squeeze the juice of two lemons into it. Drop the lemon halves into the bowl. Prep the artichokes: cut off top 1/3, pull off all green/heavy leaves and make sure no spines remain, then peel stem, slice in half, then in quarters, and use a small paring knife to remove any purple leaves*. Drop in lemon water and swirl to rinse off
2. Heat a heavy bottom, preferably cast iron skillet or dutch oven on medium heat. Add olive oil, red pepper flakes, chopped pancetta and black pepper, cooking for 4-5 minutes. Add baby artichoke quarters and stir to coat
3. Turn heat to medium-high. Partially (less than 50%) cover the pot. Over the course of 40-60 minutes, ladle in half a cup of braising liquid. Allow liquid to simmer and evaporate off until artichokes begin sticking. Add additional half cup liquid, scraping the bottom with a wooden spatula to deglaze. Cook until artichokes are soft and edible (more or less braising liquid may be necessary depending on the heat of your pan, and you could use water in a pinch)
   
4. Add garlic and cook over low heat for an additional 3-4 minutes.
5. Serve on top of baby spinach and arugula. Drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle on freshly ground black pepper.
   

*In theory, baby artichokes are entirely edible (choke and all), but I don't totally trust that. I always cut off just the tips of the purple leaves. You should be left with pale green leaves and soft artichoke flesh when your done. I love leaving the stems on to eat later - they're slightly tough, but still flavorful.

**You could also try a more traditional braising method by just dumping in all the braising liquid and cooking over low heat for a very long time. I figured that would make the artichokes mushy, instead of tender and caramelized (as they were in this recipe)

Golden Lentil and Bulgur Salad with Grilled Lemon Quarters (sans leftovers)

I'm going to begin this blog entry with a story about my dog, Tori. Four and a half years ago, I lived on my own in Arizona. I was working towards my bachelor's degree and wanted some canine companionship. I found my companion at the Arizona Animal Welfare League: short, black, furry and friendly, when she saw me walk by her outdoor enclosure, she rushed to fence and forced her nose through the chain links, curling her long pink tongue as far as it could reach around the cold metal. She tried, in every way her doggy language permitted her, to tell me that she would make a very good friend if I would just take her home and let her try. Her many remarkably and doggy-like qualities maker her my perfect companion: energetic, social, loving and cuddly, everyone who meets Tori agrees that she is sweet and good-natured.


But there is something else that everybody agrees on: if a goat ever challenged Tori to a tire-eating contest, the dog would win, hands down. Tori will eat anything that she can fit into her mouth, edible or not, with speed quicker than Greg can say "kitchen remodel". One day we walked in on her gnawing off chunks of freshly spackled drywall. She's gotten batches of cookies, bags of chocolate, pans of brownies, many types of clothes, socks, dish towels, sticks, dirt, small rocks, fruit, nuts, and whole lemons - and yes these words are all plural as in On More Than One Occasion. She has been known to eat an entire 7lb eggplant Parmesan casserole, a platter of deli meats, and, months later, a 9x9" pan of lasagna cooling in a still-rather-warm-oven. One time the soap in the dishwasher overflowed, and I came running when I saw her eagerly slurping up the suds. Tori's teeth rather regularly pierce the heavy duty metal of dog food cans destined for recycling. Pounds of cheese, cups of butter, loafs of bread - you name it, she ate it.


Which brings me to today's post, a topic that, even one day later, is still making me tear up slightly: Tori ate the leftovers from the best dish I've made all year. Now "best dish I've made all year" (indeed, the leftovers-of) sounds like a rather bold proclamation, and it is. Maybe it was because the dish was exactly what I was craving that evening, or that I was hungry and the dish was healthy, or that it was a brand new dish, something I expected to fail, and something I made without a recipe. Or, maybe it was because the dinner actually turned out really good. Whatever it was, Tori ate it all, in her sneaky, quiet-as-a-mouse manner, while I sat 10 feet away, distracted and oblivious to the delicious food rapidly reaching her insatiable stomach.


Fortunately we ate our first helpings far before her hungry teeth reached the platter, giving me an opportunity to rave about how simple and delicious this dinner truly was. I assembled vegetable kabobs the night before (yellow pepper, red pepper, parboiled carrots, baby bellas and sweet onion) and marinated them with herbs, olive oil, garlic and balsamic overnight. The next day, I assembled baked tofu with quarted lemon slices, started the bulgur salad and left Greg to deal with the grill.


Why was this dish so good? Two words: caramelized lemons. Wow. This idea is one taken directly from 101cookbooks (my second reference in two weeks, I know), and just like sauteed versus boiled gnocchi, I can promise you I will never, ever go back to raw lemon. The juicy, sweet, grilled-marked bites of lemon were A-w-e-s-o-m-e with a capital A. Really. Seriously. Try it. Just quarter lemons and throw them on the grill with everything else - in the words of Martha Stewart, it's a good thing. Grilling these lemon chunks gave them a sweet, warm, mellow flavor that would be perfect for squeezing over any vegetable, seafood, or grain based salad.


Which brings me to the actual recipe provided here. This Bulgur salad was healthy and delicious, speckled with bits of green parsley and yellow lentils. It was easy to prepare and tasted amazing, with a nice balance of bright and mellow, salty and sweet, and chewy and tender. The flavors and textures worked well together. My only comment will be about the balsamic. I don't claim to know what makes any particular balsamic vinegar a "good" vinegar, but I do know that my cheap balsamic happens to be sharp and tart and my smaller bottle of slightly-more-expensive stuff is mellow and sweet in flavor. This recipe requires something mellow and sweet to balance with the salty, nutty Bulgur. I served this Bulgur salad warm on a big platter, surrounded by Arugula (which was a perfect spicy complement to such a mellow salad) with chunks of tomatoes and oil cured olives, and topped by the skewered kabobs whose lemon quarters served to dress the whole dish together.

I really wish I had those leftovers!!


Golden Lentil and Bulgur Salad
Serves: 4

1/2 cup Bulgur Wheat, rinsed
2 tbsp olive oil
1 shallot, chopped
1/2 cup Yellow, or Golden, Lentils
2 cups water
1/4 cup loosely packed flat leaf parsley, roughly chopped
1/4 cup balsamic vinegar (preferably sweet)
Salt and Pepper to taste
Suggested for serving: two cups baby arugula, olive oil for d, grilled quartered lemons and chopped cured olives

1. Add olive oil to saucepan over medium heat. Add shallot and cook until softened, stirring frequently (about 3-4 minutes). Add Bulgur, a sprinkle of salt, and cook over medium-high heat, stirring constantly, until lightly browned (about 5-6 minutes)
2. Meanwhile, rinse lentils and add with 1 cup water to a small saucepan. Cover and cook until tender, about 5-10 minutes.
3. When Bulgur is toasted, add 1 cup water and simmer until Bulgur is al dente (about 15 minutes, depending on the size of the Bulgur). Add 3 tbsp balsamic and continue cooking until Bulgur is tender and the balsamic is absorbed*. Stir in parsley, remaining 1 tbsp balsamic, and salt and pepper to taste.
4. Stir yellow lentils and Bulgur together. Serve warm, drizzled with extra olive oil, next to fresh baby arugula, chopped olives and grilled lemon quarters.

*If the cooking times don't add up right, just add a little extra water and continue cooking until the Bulgur is done