5 second rule

Apricots

This is one of the best desserts I've made in a long time, and I say that not because it's pretty and tastes great, but because it took almost no effort and -- I kid you not -- about 10 minutes to prepare.

And let me just say this: I used to think the whole notion of grilled fruit was ridiculous.  Like, what's the point of going to the farmers' market and picking out perfect summer specimens -- fruit that's firm, unblemished and with no soft spots or discoloration -- and then tossing it atop flaming grates until it's hot, black, and oozing?  I mean, how does that make any sense whatsoever?

It does.  It just does. 

If you want to learn more about apricots and why they're good for you, check out my article in the June issue of Body + Soul magazine (online here). 

If, instead, you'd rather just learn how to grill these perky, palm-sized fruits, look down.

...

Recipe for Grilled Apricots with dark chocolate, pistachios, honey and cream

The title pretty much tells you everything.  The key with this recipe is choosing your fruit wisely: apricots should be firm but ripe.  If they're too soft, they'll fall apart on the grill.  Also, I had a package of Guittard dark chocolate chips, but any chocolate chips, or shavings of your favorite chocolate bar, will work.

Serves 4

4 firm, ripe apricots, cut in half, pits discarded

Neutral vegetable oil, like canola

16-32 dark chocolate chips, semisweet chocolate chips, or 4 tablespoons shaved dark chocolate

Honey

2 to 3 tablespoons cold heavy cream

2 tablespoons toasted, chopped pistachios

Preheat your grill for direct high heat (450-500 degrees).  Brush both sides of the apricots with a thin coating of oil. 

Once grill is hot, place fruit cut side down on grates.  Grill for 1-1/2 minutes, then flip so the cavity faces up.  Grill 1 minute longer, then add 2 to 4 chocolate chips to each cavity (depending on the size of the apricots and how many fit).  Grill one minute longer so chocolate softens and turns glossy.  Keep in mind that the chocolate chips will hold their shape, which is fine.

Carefully remove the fruit from the grill and place 2 halves in each of 4 ramekins.  Drizzle apricots with honey to taste (grilled fruit, and roasted fruit, too, loses some of its sweetness) and pour a little cream on top.  Sprinkle with pistachios, and serve immediately.

printable pdf

Potatoes

I'm sorry, but that may be the most ridiculous photo I've ever posted.  Whose mashed potatoes look like that?

Uh, mine do.

Never been a huge potato person.  I'll pilfer others' fries in a restaurant (sorry), but if I'm going to starch myself at home I generally go for rice.

Things changed this weekend when our bi-monthly supper club met at my friend Stacy's house.  Stacy is the consummate hostess -- always looks great, mixes a mean cocktail, takes good care of her guests, and cooks exceptionally well.  Her baby back ribs were a huge hit on Sunday, and I can't wait to make them and share the recipe here.

But the biggest surprise of the night for me was the mashed potatoes, because I don't even like mashed potatoes.  Or I didn't think I did.  But Tom brought over these potatoes that made us all swoon.  Yes, we swooned over the ribs, and the coleslaw, and the strawberry-rhubarb cobbler (Liz used my recipe, bless her heart), and the drinks, apps, etc etc etc, but when I came home that night I dreamt of dancing potatoes.

I picked up a pound of small yukon golds the next day.  Just a pound -- you know, in case I completely screwed them up.  And then last night I mashed them.  I couldn't justify Tom's two sticks of butter (in his defense, he was serving 10 adults, while I was serving 2 adults and 2 kids), but I did drizzle in a little olive oil for richness, minced shallots for sweetness, some buttermilk for tang, and a solid spoonful of salt.

And guess what?  Even with their massive case of bedhead, they tasted really, really good.

...

Recipe for Basic Buttermilk Mashed Potatoes

I couldn't be bothered to pass these through a ricer so this mash is rustic rather than completely smooth.  I also opted for olive oil over butter, a choice I'd absolutely make again.

Makes about 4 servings

1 pound small or medium yukon gold potatoes, peels on or off (I peeled half), quartered

1/2 cup well-shaken buttermilk

1 tablespoon minced shallots

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 teaspoon Kosher salt, or to taste

Place potatoes in a medium saucepan and cover with cold water by about an inch.  Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to a hard simmer and cook until potatoes are tender, about 10 to 12 minutes depending on the size of the chunks.  Drain, then immediately return to the pot with some of the water still clinging.

Mash a few times with a potato masher.  Once you've broken the potatoes down a little, add the buttermilk, shallots, olive oil, and salt.  Continue mashing to within an inch of your life, until you reach a consistency that pleases you.  Adjust the salt, if necessary, and serve hot.

printable pdf

Cherries

Cherries are like beets: if I don't wear an apron when cutting them, I look like I've committed a sordid act of brutality.

I'd bought fistfuls of cherries for my wehani rice salad with cherries, almonds, and mint, and, happily, I had a half bag left over.  I grabbed my pitter and my ugliest apron and got busy.  Another problem with pitting cherries -- aside from the Lady Macbeth factor -- is that it's tempting to pop them in your mouth as you work.  Like one for me, one for the bowl.  Three for me, one for the bowl.  Eight for me, one for the bowl.  After 15 minutes the bowl held about 3 cherries.

I proceeded, and reached for a few sad-looking bananas.  Cherries and bananas snuggle up in banana splits, so why can't they canoodle in a cake as well?

This particular cake is a hybrid -- it's more substantial and less sweet than a fluffy dessert cake, but not as firm and dense as my favorite banana bread.  And the burst of fresh cherries in each bite lets you know that summer is just around the bend, almost within reach.

Don that apron, stretch those arms, and you're practically there.

...

Recipe for Cherry Banana Morning Cake

I call this a morning cake because it's not too sweet and serves as a fitting bridge between breakfast and lunch.  Flo Braker's Banana Streusel Snack Cake (from Baking for All Occasions, Chronicle Books, 2008) served as my rough model here, but I left off her streusel, covered the cake with cherries, messed with the flour and generally bastardized her recipe.  For the record, I'm sure her original version is perfectly delicious as well.

Makes one  8-1/2" square cake

1 cup cake flour

1 cup whole wheat pastry flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

4 ounces (1 stick) unsalted butter, at room temperature

3/4 cup granulated sugar

1 large egg, lightly beaten

1 cup mashed bananas (2 or 3)

3 tablespoons milk

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

3/4 teaspoon almond extract

5 ounces cherries (about 1 cup), stemmed, pitted, halved

2-3 tablespoons demerara (coarse) sugar, for topping

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Coat an 8-1/2" square cake pan with nonstick spray and fit the bottom with parchment paper.

In a large bowl, whisk the two flours, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.  Set aside.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat the butter and granulated sugar until creamy and light, about 3 minutes.  Add the egg and beat until incorporated.  Mix the mashed banana, milk, and two extracts in a small bowl and add them to the mixer, beating well until all the ingredients are incorporated.  (The batter will look curdled.  Don't be alarmed.)  Add the flour and beat just until the batter comes together.

Scrape the batter into the prepared pan and lay the cherries, cut side up, on top in any pattern you like.  (I prefer a rustic, haphazard placement.)  Sprinkle the whole cake with the coarse sugar, making sugar to get some in the cherries.

Bake in the center of the oven for about 35 minutes, or until a tester comes out clean.  Set the pan on a wire rack to cool for 10 minutes, and then carefully unmold and continue cooling.  Wait until the cake has  finished cooling before cutting it into generous squares.

printable pdf

Ribs

To see my final guest post on Accidental Hedonist -- which includes my review of Padma Lakshmi's cookbook Tangy Tart Hot & Sweet (Weinstein Books, 2007), my "after" shot of these marinated beef short ribs, and the full recipe -- click on over.

Kernels

Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar and sometimes a nut is just a nut.  And sometimes, just sometimes, a nut is actually a kernel masquerading as an almond.

I found a bag of roasted sweet apricot kernels at the store a few months ago and tossed them in my cart.  Why?  I honestly have no idea.  But when I finally got around to opening them I discovered that these petite kernels, which come from inside the pit of an apricot, look like itty bitty almonds.  And they taste, not exactly like fresh apricots, but like intense apricot essence.  Like if someone were to flavor something with eau de apricot, they'd probably use these kernels.  Like if you were to buy apricot-scented perfume and drink it, it might taste like this, but, you know, better.

Weird?  Why yes, they're a little weird, but they're cheaper than almonds ("poor man's almonds" according to Trader Joe), and they really add an unexpected fruitiness to dishes where you might otherwise use normal nuts.

I turned them into a pesto, which I used to top grilled chicken.  And just to carry the theme a little further, I shoved a few plump dried apricots under the chicken skin before grilling.  I honestly had no idea whether one could do that -- you know, stuff dried fruit under chicken skin -- but guess what?  You CAN!  Now I can't wait to do the same thing with more dried fruit.  I think prunes would be nice, though I don't plan to make a pesto out of prune pits.

The apricots were really pretty when I cut into the chicken.  And when everyone else took a bite, and swept their forks through that fruity pesto, their eyes widened and their eyebrows cocked, like, why the hell does my pesto taste like APRICOTS?

Heh heh.  Our little secret.

...

Recipe for Apricot-Stuffed Grilled Chicken with Pesto

If you can't find roasted apricot kernels near you, you can certainly use purchased pesto or make your own pesto using any nuts you like.  (Important: apricot kernels are NOT the same as apricot pits, and you can't just smash an apricot pit and eat the kernel inside.  The kernels must be roasted first because they contain traces of a toxic acid.  The kernels I purchased had already been roasted and I urge you to buy only "sweet" roasted kernels as well.)  The highlight of this recipe is really the dried apricots tucked under the skin.  They become soft, warm, and luscious upon grilling.

Serves 4

3 tablespoons poultry-friendly spice rub (I used Penzeys Northwoods Seasoning, but you can use any brand or make your own)

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 teaspoon Kosher salt

4 bone-in, skin-on chicken breast halves (10 to 12 ounces each)

8 plump dried apricots

1/2 cup of your favorite pesto recipe, swapping "sweet" roasted apricot kernels for the nuts (you may want to leave out the cheese, as I did)

In a small skillet, warm the spices over medium heat for a few minutes, stirring constantly, until fragrant.  Transfer to a small bowl and drizzle in the olive oil and salt.

Rub the spice mixture all over the chicken, including underneath the skin.  Stuff 2 dried apricots under the skin.  Cover with plastic wrap and let stand at room temperature for a half hour.

Preheat the grill for direct and indirect medium heat.  You're aiming for about 450 degrees.

Grill the chicken breasts skin side down over the hottest part of the grill (direct heat) for 3 to 5 minutes, until nice grill marks appear, then carefully flip (don't let the apricots slip out) and move to the cooler part of the grill.  Continue cooking (with the lid closed) until the chicken is completely cooked through and the skin is nice and crisp, about 25 to 30 minutes.

Remove chicken to a platter.  Let rest for several minutes, then serve with the apricot pesto.

printable pdf

Rhubarb

Forces beyond my control have compelled me to give rhubarb a second chance.

I'd had it as a kid, and, like lima beans, the texture put me off and I just filed it away in the why bother category.  Like, why bother buying something that looks like red celery when I can buy real fruit -- say, peachesmelonsplumsnectarinesbananasberries --instead. 

But then last Monday I went to Chez Panisse, and the first thing Lara said when she looked at the entire lyrical menu with its pixie tangerines and its garden lettuces and its shaved zucchini with pecorino and mint was this:

"I'm getting the rhubarb-strawberry cobbler for dessert."

Wuh?  Why would you do that to yourself, and on your birthday?

But I tried it, and it was good.  You know, fine good.  Not better than the bittersweet chocolate pave, but sometimes these things take a little while to sink in, and when Diana challenged me in the comments to come up with a rhubarb recipe I knew I could do it without puking.

I'm sorry I said puke on a food blog.  Rule #1: Never discuss regurgitation on a food blog.  Rule #2: Don't break Rule #1.

Guess what?  I made a killer cobbler. 

Now, I'm not running for president of the Rhubarb Society of North America or riding a rhubarb float in the next parade, but I would make this dessert again. And again.  My sons signaled their approval by sticking their heads in the ramekins and licking their dishes clean.  Rhubarb facial, anyone?

This cobbler tastes like jam with a crust, and I defy you to give me one good reason why that's not a Very Good Thing.

(Stay in touch.  Join the 5SR Facebook page here.)

...

Recipe for Strawberry-Rhubarb Cobbler

Since I wanted to wade into the rhubarb waters slowly, I stuck with the classic marriage of rhubarb and strawberries and didn't introduce any funky third parties into the mix.  No spices, no nuts, nothing fancypants.  So long as you slice the stalks nice and thin, the rhubarb gets all jammy and melty and lends a lovely tartness and body to the berries, creating a nicely balanced dessert.

1-1/2 pounds strawberries, hulled and quartered

1 pound rhubarb, trimmed, cut crosswise into 1/4"-thick slices

1 cup sugar

2-1/2 tablespoons cornstarch

2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice

1 cup all-purpose flour

2/3 cup whole wheat pastry flour

2/3 cup dark brown sugar

3/4 teaspoon baking powder

1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

6 tablespoons melted butter

1 large egg, lightly beaten

Preheat the oven to 425 and move the rack to the lower third of the oven.

In a large bowl, stir together the berries, rhubarb, sugar, cornstarch, and lemon juice.  Turn out into a 2-quart baking dish.

In a medium bowl (or wipe the same bowl you used to the filling clean and dry), whisk the two flours, brown sugar, baking powder and salt.  Drizzle in the melted butter and stir with a wooden spoon until all the dry bits are moistened and the dough looks like crumbly pebbles.  Slowly drip in the egg and stir with a fork until evenly moistened and clumpy.  Sprinkle the dough over the fruit.  Place the filled baking dish on a rimmed baking sheet to catch any drips as the cobbler bubbles.

Bake for about 35 minutes, or until the top is browned and the filling is bubbly.  Let stand for 30 minutes before serving.  Serve alone, with a drizzle of heavy cream (!) or with vanilla ice cream (!!).

printable pdf

Rice

See that woman above?  She's a farmer. 

Her name is Jessica Lundberg, and for three generations, her family has grown rice in Oroville, California using sustainable methods.  If you go to your local supermarket, I'm quite sure you'll recognize the packages of Lundberg rice and related products (including 20 kinds of rice cakes) on the shelves.

The Lundberg family grows 17 different varieties of rice, including white and brown basmati rice, black japonica, wild rice, arborio, short grain brown rice, jasmine rice, sushi rice, and more.  My favorite is the nutty, chewy wehani rice, a reddish-brown variety that looks like this:

As manager of the farm's seed nursery and chairman of the board, Jessica identifies and develops new rice varieties.  She also takes great pride in her family's use of wind energy and solar technology as a means of treading lightly on the earth.  More than 235 species of wildlife call the Lundberg rice paddies home.

"When we plant our cover crops," she says, "the waterfowl use that for habitat.  So we gather the eggs from the waterfowl and bring them to local hatcheries."  This year, the Lundbergs brought some area schoolchildren to the farm to help gather the 1,100 eggs.  After incubating at the hatcheries for about 4 weeks, these eggs turn into ducklings.  They're then banded, and released.  In 20 years, the Lundbergs have released about 20,000 birds back into the wild.

For this family, sustainability means more than just organics, more than just being responsible stewards of the environment.  It also means paying fair wages, and providing health benefits and bonus programs for their employees.  As I heard over and over at the Monterey Bay Aquarium's Sustainable Foods Institute -- where I met Jessica, snapped her photo, and listened to her story -- sustainability is not just about the earth.  It's about people, too.

"Rice isn't just rice," Jessica Lundberg says.  

And she's right.

...

Recipe for Wehani Rice Salad with a trio of cherries, almonds, and mint

Meeting Jessica Lundberg inspired me to create this salad because cherries and chewy brown rice strike me as a completely natural fit.  Since it's cherry season here in California, I went all out, incorporating red Garnets, yellow Raineers, and even dried Montmorency cherries into the mix.  A touch of greenery, a few nuts, and a slick of almond oil finished things off beautifully.

Serves 4

1 cup wehani brown rice (available at major U.S. markets), or your favorite whole grain or wild rice

2 cups water

1/2 pound assorted fresh cherries, pitted, stemmed, quartered

1/2 cup dried cherries, halved

1/2 cup toasted slivered almonds

1 handful baby spinach leaves, rolled up into a cigar-shape and thinly sliced (chiffonade)

 8 to 10 leaves fresh mint, cut into chiffonade (see above)

1-1/2 tablespoons almond oil (or other nut oil)

1/2 teaspoon raspberry or other fruit vinegar (or more, to taste)

Generous pinch coarse salt

Cook rice according to package directions either on the stovetop or in a rice cooker.  Fluff with a fork and let cool completely.

Combine rice and all remaining ingredients in a large salad bowl.  Stir gently to combine.

printable pdf

Alternatives

 
Greetings from Monterey.  This is the view from my hotel room window.

In the past 24 hours I met a guy who wrote a book about lobster sex.  I watched Thomas Keller humbly accept a Chef of the Year award. And I peppered a scientist from the Monterey Bay Aquarium's Seafood Watch program with questions.

Lots of questions.

Your questions.  You know, from yesterday.

Poor guy.  He made the mistake of sitting next to me at lunch.

I told him that Lisa's husband is sick of tilapia and she wants to know what she can buy instead. 

Geoffrey Shester, PhD, said good choices include farmed shellfish like mussels, clams, oysters, and scallops.  Also great are sardines, squid, and arctic char.  And don't forget canned pink salmon, which is sustainable, unlike its farmed cousins.

There are many species on the aquarium's "red list." These are fish we should avoid because they may be caught or farmed in ways that harm marine life or the environment.  Some even contain toxins, hormones, or antibiotics.  Chilean sea bass, monkfish, imported shrimp (wild or farmed), red snapper, and Atlantic cod are all on the list, but there's more.  (Full region-specific guides are here.)  As for salmon, Shester says, go wild, go canned, or go without.  "There are fundamental problems with the way salmon is farmed all over the world."

Next up, Nancy, who lives in Australia, asked about shrimp:  "Are wild shrimp harvested sustainably, generally speaking?"

Shester's response: It depends on how they're caught.  If they're caught using giant trawlers, avoid the shrimp if you can, as trawlers can be enormously destructive to marine life.  "I'm not going to tell her she can't eat shrimp," he said.  "But tell her to consider buying lobster instead."

For more information, please see Seafood Watch's 2009 Culinary Chart of Alternatives or download the Seafood Watch iPhone app here.

More to come...

Fish

Fish is healthy.  It's light, quick-cooking, versatile, and filled with beneficial fatty acids.  It's good for our hearts and good for our brains.  It's also delicious.

But I need to ration my 8-year-old's favorite tuna sandwiches due to mercury concerns.  And I'll no longer buy shrimp from my local Safeway because it's all farmed, and from half a world away.  I've even started peppering the fish purveyor at my Sunday farmers' market with questions -- where's it from?  is it wild or farmed?  how was it caught?  I can feel the people in line behind me grow impatient, but I stand there nonetheless, asking, asking, asking. 

Why?  Because I want to do the right thing, and doing the right thing when it comes to buying seafood has become more and more complicated.  At my colleague Clare's suggestion, I've begun reading Taras Grescoe's Bottomfeeder: How to Eat Ethically in a World of Vanishing Seafood, a fascinating exploration of one fish-lover's determination to learn as much as he can about our oceans and the food it provides.

But wait, there's more.  Today I'm off to Monterey, where I'll be attending the Sustainable Foods Institute, a multiday affair for media that culminates in the annual Cooking For Solutions celebration.  I'll be learning about sustainability both on land and in the sea from a variety of aquaculture and farming experts, journalists, and chefs.

And I'll let you know what I find out. 

If you have any specific questions about fish or fish-purchasing, now's the time to ask.

Monday

I think I've written before about my completely inexcusable lunch habits.  About how I spend all morning writing about food, developing recipes, working on articles, and futzing with various electronic media that half the time 2:30pm rolls around and I realize that the last time I ate was at 7:30 in the morning.  So lunch can sometimes be a leftover toast crust from my kids' breakfast, swiped, if I'm lucky, in a jar of peanut butter as I'm headed out the door.

Makes for an occasionally sticky door knob.

Given that context, I was hardly going to say no when my friend Lara invited me up to the cafe at Chez Panisse to help celebrate her birthday.  Let's see: stale kid toast crust or poached halibut?  Not an especially tough call.

I'd been to the cafe once before, but I remember it as a rather rushed evening, maybe because we'd gone on a Friday night and the place was jammed.  Yesterday, a Monday afternoon, we really relaxed and allowed the meal to unfold at its own pace.  And the meal wasn't so keen on unfolding quickly, which suited us just fine. 

There was a pizzetta with spring onions and herbs;  Soul Food Farm eggs baked in a wood oven with lentils, mustard greens, garlic toast, and spicy favas; Northern halibut with cauliflower, amaranth, marinated beets, ginger, and Meyer lemon; and a bittersweet chocolate pave with amaretto cream.

Oh, and a rhubarb-strawberry cobbler with almond-wildflower honey cream (say that ten times fast). 

Happy birthday, Lara.