Bring the water to boil in a covered steep-sided pan. Add the quinoa, cover, and lower the heat until just simmering. Simmer 10 mins., top with the kale and re-cover. Simmer 5 minutes more, turn off the heat, and stem an additional 5 mins. or until the kale is just tender and the water is absorbed.
While your quinoa is cooking, combine the lemon and orange juices in a large bowl. Add the lemon zest, scallions, oil, pine nuts, red pepper flakes and feta.
Add the pilaf to the bowl and toss to combine. Season with salt & pepper to taste and serve topped with a 2 oz. patty of fresh breakfast sausage.
Serves 2 for dinner with enough left over for lunch.
1 onion, halved & sliced thin
1 pint sweet mini peppers, sliced
1 head collards, washed, de-stemmed & sliced
1 tsp. Hungarian hot paprika
1 tsp. ground cumin
1 tsp. ground chipotle
1/4 c. Water
1 c. Good quality tomato sauce
Batons of cooked bacon
1/2 c. Yellow grits
2 c. Mixed water & milk
Splash balsamic vinegar
Sautée onions and peppers over medium until very soft and starting to caramelize. Add 1/2 of the tomato sauce, collards, spices & salt & pepper to taste. Cook, stirring occasionally 2 mins or until well incorporated. Add water and cook, stirring occasionally and adding tomato sauce when the mixture looks too dry, 15 mins. Or until collards are softened and look done. Add remaining sauce and vinegar, taste for seasoning and adjust.
While the greens are cooking, make the grits. Over high heat, combine milk and grits with 1/2 tsp. Salt in a saucepan. Whisk continuously until the mixture comes to a boil. Cover and reduce eat to a simmer. Simmer 5 mins.
This jam is quick, involves no canning, and makes just the kind of jam I like–not too sickly sweet. Since seeing Jamie Oliver make a version of this jam on one of his shows last week, I have made it two ways: with mixed strawberries and blueberries, 1/4 c. sugar and balsamic vinegar; and with straight strawberries, 2 Tbsp. sugar and Jam Jar wine. I like the sugar content of the second batch and the berry mix of the first batch the best. Unfortunately, I was too busy slathering the first batch on everything I came across to take any pictures. The second batch has yet to make it to any serving vehicle but a teaspoon (and a wooden spoon and a serving spoon). This is proving just the thing for the weekly batch of strawberries I get with my CSA. I hate to admit it, but after a year and some change, I’m kinda fresh strawberried-out.
1 lb. berries
2 Tbsp. white sugar
1 tsp. balsamic vinegar or fruity red wine
Wash and prep berries; place in a wide pan. Add sugar and skoosh with your hands until the desired consistency is reached–you’re looking for the mixture to look like jam already and the sugar to dissolve.
Turn the heat up to high and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to medium and simmer, stirring occasionally and skimming off any foam, 20-30 mins. or until the jam is at a consistency you like. Add the wine or vinegar in the last few minutes of cooking.
Serve with waffles, oatmeal, rice pudding, toast or a spoon.
I’ve always wondered what made Canadian bacon Canadian. Is it that Canadians don’t know how to make real bacon? Does it have something to do with Virginia and hams? was it originally a marketing ploy by McDonalds? How many degrees away is this from Kevin Bacon?
You don’t know either? Let us then take a culinary detour of sorts to discover the real roots of this bacon.
Canadian, aka back bacon or Irish bacon isn’t Canadian at all. Not really. It’s more of a Canadian-English-American hybrid super bacon.
Canadian bacon comes from the lean pork loin, which is located in the middle of the back. It is then brined and smoked.
According to Kitchen Project, this type of savory pork was most likely dubbed “Canadian” by marketers in the United Kingdom who took to importing pork from Canada to deal with a shortage in the mid 1800s.
This imported bacon was prepared Canadian-style (unsmoked and brined) and rolled in ground yellow split peas (or some other form of fine yellow meal) to aid with preservation. In Canada, this type of cured bacon is still common in parts and is called Peameal bacon.
When the English got their porcine packages, they added smoke and didn’t bother to change the name. Emigrating bacon lovers brought the new concoction to the States and Canadian bacon as we know it was born. Isn’t globalization great?
This slab o’ pork wasn’t nearly as hard to find as the pork belly. My friendly neighborhood butcher at Laurenzo’s Italian Market had it on hand and was more than happy to hand me the tastiest looking roughly 3 lb. pork loin in the case.
Since this preparation is all about the smoke, I broke down and purchased a stovetop smoker (Camerons large from Amazon). The smoker is compact, looks easy-to-use and presents as a neat silver self-contained package.
The brine for this preparation was simple; just tons of water, Kosher salt, pink salt, table sugar, garlic, thyme and sage.
I popped the loin in, waited 2 days, took it out, wiped it off and slapped it on a tray to air cure in the fridge for a few days.
And then my smoker finally came in from Amazon, and we were off!
I smoked my pork centered on one burner over medium with Alder chips for a couple of hours. It smoked the house out a bit, but not unbearably so (keep in mind that smoke is sticky and if you don’t want your kitchen and/or house to smell like someone’s been cooking bacon for a week, make sure to clean anywhere the smoke could have gotten thoroughly).
The final product was meh. Not terrible, not great. The outer portion on the outside of the fat cap looks and tastes like Canadian Bacon, but the inside looks and tastes like a pork roast. A deeply smoky pork roast at that. I think where I went wrong was the nice thick pork loin. Had I used one of the thinner loins, I think it would have turned out just right. Live and learn.
I’ve been racking my brains trying to think of a new vehicle in which to premiere the Canadian Bacon, but to no avail. I tossed a handful in with some greens and a fried egg, and it was not my favorite. Entirely edible, but I liked the dish sans smoke better.
I’m thinking maybe a soup. Maybe even the split pea soup my DH has been begging for for months will do this “bacon” justice.
6 oz. fresh Canadian Bacon, cubed
1 large Vidalia onion, chopped
3 carrots, chopped
2 c. dried split peas
8 c. water
Cap full of apple cider vinegar
Salt & white pepper to taste
Crusty bread (optional)
Add1 Tbsp. olive oil to a large heavy-bottomed pot over medium-high heat. After the oil heats up, add the bacon and cook, stirring, until starting to brown.
Add the onion and carrots and cook, stirring to avoid burning, until the vegetables are tender but not browned (roughly 10 minutes).
Add the split peas and water. Bring to a boil, reduce the heat to simmer and cook 90 minutes to 2 hours or until the peas have broken down.
Taste, add the vinegar if the taste needs punch; salt & pepper to taste.
I covered the pot while cooking and the resulting soup was more watery than I like. So, I grabbed my slotted spoon and got to work separating the bacon from the vegetables and excess liquid.
If you want a more refined-looking soup at this point, let the soup cool a bit and blend the vegetables and desired amount of liquid until smooth, add back to the pot along with the reserved bacon and heat through to serve.
Serve with a nice swirl of olive oil to finish and thick slabs of crusty bread for sopping.
Serves 1 hungry deprived husband for dinner with enough left over for you too, if you don’t get too close.
When James Oseland names a dish his favorite over the past year, I tend to sit up and take notice. I don’t know about being my favorite, but this dish was a pleaser. Ignore the ham in the photo above. This shot was taken with the leftovers, which I foolishly added home-cured Canadian Bacon to. I shouldn’t have. This dish was absolutely great without it, and the smokiness ruined it the second time around. The original version also didn’t call for heirloom tomatoes, but I had a bunch on hand with no plans so I threw them in. I happen to love tomatoes cooked like this, so I liked them. If you do not, or if you don’t have any on hand, feel free to omit.
Extra virgin olive oil
5 scallions, minced
8 oz. cut n clean seasonal cooking greens
1/2 c. flat leaf parsley, chopped
1/2 c. mint leaves, chopped
1/4 c. fennel fronds, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 eggs per person
Double handful heirloom cherry tomatoes
Crusty bread, sliced on a bias and toasted (optional)
Heat 1-2 Tbsp. olive oil in a large pot over medium-high heat. Add the scallions and cook for 4 minutes, until soft. add the greens, parsley, mint, fennel, garlic, tomatoes and 1/2 c. water; salt & pepper to taste. Cook, stirring as needed, until the greens are tender and tomatoes have softened and split, 10-15 mins.
In a medium pan, heat a turn and a half around the pan of olive oil over medium-high heat until shimmering. Crack your eggs (1 person’s at a time) into the skillet and fry by constantly spooning hot oil over the yolks until the yolks are just set, about 2 minutes. Transfer to a paper towel to de-grease and then onto your greens to serve. Serve with crusty bread.
My first batch of eggs I cooked a little longer than the second, and I actually enjoyed that more. The eggs were still a little runny, and the whites were nice and fried. Cook as you like.
This dish is adapted from Heidi Swanson’s recipe for Black Sesame Otsu from her upcoming book, Super Natural Everyday. If you haven’t visited her food blog (101 Cookbooks) before, go. She is one of my favorite healthy food recipe authors and I can’t wait to get my hands on her new book.
This dish is everything you want in a Spring dinner–nice and light-tasting, not too heavy and packed with green leafy goodness. The only change I would make next time would be adding more cayenne. 2 big pinches just wasn’t enough for us.
Now on to the goodness that is a bowl of Japanese noodles.
Black Sesame Walnut Noodles
1/2 c. walnuts, shelled
1/2 c. black sesame seeds (note: these will end up looking like coffee grounds. If that bothers you, use white sesame seeds)
1 1/2 Tbsp. brown sugar
1 1/2 Tbsp. shoyu
1 1/2 tsp. mirin
1 Tbsp. sesame oil
2 Tbsp. rice (sushi) vinegar
2 big pinches cayenne pepper
12 oz. soba noodles
1 bunch Swiss chard
1 bunch green onions, white and light green parts only, thinly sliced
Handful Chinese chives, chopped (optional)
Put a large pot of salted water on to boil.
Toast the walnuts in a dry pan over medium-high heat until they begin to release their aroma and are lightly toasted. Don’t forget to shake the pan regularly to avoid burnt spots. Add the sesame seeds and toast for only a minute or so, until they smell toasted. Be careful not to over-toast!
Transfer the nuts to a mortar & pestle or bowl of a food processor. Crush until the mixture looks like black sand. Add the sugar, shoe, miring, sesame oil, vinegar and cayenne. Stir to combine and taste for seasoning.
Wash and slice your chard into thin ribbons.
When the water is boiling, add the soba and cook according to package directions until tender (about 3 minutes). In the last minute or so of cooking, add the chard and stir.
When your noodles are tender and the chard is nicely cooked, drain, reserving about a cup of the cooking liquid. Rinse under cold water to stop the cooking.
Reserve some of the sesame paste and the chives for a garnish. Scoop the rest into a large mixing bowl and thin with 1/3 c. of the reserved cooking liquid to form a sauce.
Add everything else to the bowl and toss until combined. Serve topped with the reserved sesame paste and chives.
Serves 2 for dinner, with enough left over for a nice lunch.
Much-reviled beets are one of the few foods on Earth I find truly repulsive. I think they taste exactly like musty dirt and generally want absolutely nothing to do with them. And then came my crusade to eat more seasonably and locally and my decision to join a Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) club. My CSA ships year-round organic vegetables that are sourced as locally as is possible/cost effective. Part of that commitment was bound to include trying new things. Enter the beets.
I remember as a kid thinking after the first taste made my taste buds want to retreat down my throat that beets must have been something you ate in the depression, because they were less hard than pebbles, and that anyone that still ate beets was a: ancient and had no taste left, or b: wanted to eat what they ate when they were little.
I’m fairly certain that an ancient person was the first to get me to try beets. Possibly my grandfather with Althziemers. Maybe it was only my father. I did think he was ancient, after all. (what can I say? I was a little kid. Being in your 30s was one and the same with being in your 60s or 80s to me at the time. Yeek!)
The first time I got beets, I was terrified. Beets, while a beautiful shade of claret, are gross. They taste like dirt. What the crap could I possibly do to them to make them edible?
I made pasta. My fresh beet pasta came out a beautiful shade of burgundy and I served it with a brown butter and poppyseed pan sauce, because everything is better with butter. And you know what? It worked. The beets were only slightly earthy; combined with the butter and some fresh shaved parmesan, they were great. And pretty.
I’m not scared of you any more, beets. You hear that? I’ve kicked your ass and lived to tell the tale.
Now I know, I can’t serve them in pasta every time I get them. I’ve also roasted and shredded them for beet and potato latkes, and they were great.
Every time I mention beets to my father and how I’m running out of the limited things I can do to disguise them, he tells me how great pickled beets are. I’m skeptical to say the least–sounds like some weird old people shit to me–I’m willing to try it for him. If for nothing else, but a reason to talk a little smack.
Pickled Beets Adapted from Simple Recipes
5 beets (about 2 c.)
1/4 c. apple cider vinegar
2 Tbsp. sugar
3 Tbsp. olive oil
1/2 tsp. dry mustard
Salt and pepper to taste
Scrub beets and cut into uniform sizes so they will cook evenly. Boil for 15-30 minutes depending upon how large your pieces are, until a fork slides easily into them.
Drain and rinse in cold water until cool enough to handle. use your fingers or a paring knife to slip the skins off. They should come off easily. Discard the peels and slice the beets 1/4 inch thick.
Whisk the rest of the ingredients together to form a vinaigrette. Taste for seasoning and adjust to your liking. Salt & pepper to taste.
Add beets to the bowl and stir to coat. Let sit at room temperature 15 minutes, stir again, and let sit 15 minutes more.
The verdict: Well, shit. These are actually pretty derned good. The first bite tasted a little like dirt in a not unpleasant way, and subsequent bites tasted sharp and sweet. I could even eat these in a salad without dying. So, dad, you were right ;p.