Author Archives: Sarah

Recipe: Beet and Beet Greens Risotto

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I have been reading a lot about beet risotto recently, so I finally decided to try my hand at making it. I am a beet lover to the core—boiled, roasted, sliced, diced, ravioli filling… you name it, I eat it. I love that beets are full of flavor and are healthy at the same time: the root is a good source of vitamin C and iron, and a very good source of fiber, folate, and potassium. But what about the greens? I am the sort of cook that hates waste. If I’ve separated an egg for a meringue, I will hold onto the yolks (sometimes too long – I suggest using them immediately, from personal experience). Yes, it’s easy to find a solution for beet greens if you’re making a salad, but a risotto? I’ve made risottos with all sorts of vegetables before, from zucchini to asparagus, so I thought that beet greens might not be too different. Why not throw them in the pot as well?

Traditional Italian risottos call for arborio rice, but it has proven difficult for me to locate at times, as well as expensive for the quantity. When I lived in Italy, translations on arborio boxes often included the word “parboiled” so I looked into what that meant and found that the term refers to the way the rice is processed. Parboiled rice is rice that has been boiled in the husk, improving its nutritional profile and changing its texture. Parboiling drives nutrients into the grain itself, so that parboiled white rice is nutritionally similar to brown rice. This type of rice takes longer to cook, and the resulting texture is firmer and less sticky than most cooked rice. Although this might not work for sushi, it is useful for making risotto, which is a slow process that requires the rice starches to be released slowly over time.

I began the way I always begin to cook risotto, with two pots on the stove. In the larger pot, I drizzled olive oil and let my diced onion begin to simmer. In the smaller pot, I brought my homemade chicken stock to a slow boil. My initial intention was to grate the beets to allow the thin strips to brown evenly alongside the onion, but halfway through the smallest of the bunch, I gave up and zapped the rest in the microwave for 30 seconds in a bowl with a bit of water in it. This didn’t cook the beets but merely softened them enough for a knife to pass easily through. I diced them and through them into the pot once the onions took on a translucent color. Then I removed the stems from the greens, washed them, and cut the leaves into little slivers. Into the pot those went as well, and I allowed the vegetables to cook down for about five minutes before adding a cup of the rice.

Once the rice browned (about a minute), I began to slowly add the simmering broth, stirring to let the liquid absorb slowly, building the texture of the risotto, incorporating the beets, greens, onions, and rice. 20 minutes and 4 cups of broth later, I pulled the risotto from the heat and added about a half cup of freshly grated Grana Padano (the ‘skim’ version of Parmigiano, which I enjoy for its nuttier flavor). Then, my roommate and I sat down to eat. Recipe conclusion? The beet greens held up nicely in the risotto, adding flavor and texture, rather than wilting away as I had feared. The rice itself worked well, although it had a nuttier quality than arborio typically has. My only regret was not roasting the beets longer in the pan. They were a little undercooked, but nonetheless wonderful. At least for a beet lover.

Bacon. Because it’s the trendy thing to do.

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I’ve always been a meat-lover. Growing up, my daddy hunted and I remember us eating what he had shot, from duck breasts to dove “poppers” to venison sausage (my personal favorite). Game has been the name of the, well, game for as long as I can remember.

I cannot say the same for bacon. Like most girls, I’ve toyed with different diets in my day, and one that stuck for a long time was the swearing off of bacon. I proclaimed I did not like it, did not want to eat it or even touch it—I convinced myself of this for a long time. Not that I had an issue with the concept (‘vegetarianism’ has never been part of my personal vocabulary), I just refused it. That is until I moved to Italy and began to eat and breathe pork, from prosciutto to speck to pancetta. Italian brought bacon hurtling back into my diet, and I’ve never looked back.

A meal that has stood out recently in my mind is based on the notion of bacon, but on a grander scale. I had the pleasure of dining in the bar room at Aureole near Times Square in New York City. I work near the place, had read multiple reviews, and finally decided I needed to try it for myself. I could wax poetic about the beauty of the restaurant space and the competence of the waitstaff (the sommelier let me try several tastes of wine until I found one that was perfect for me—and this was over lunch), but I am really focused on one aspect of my meal: the Pork Belly Sliders.

In layman’s terms, pork belly is just a hefty cut of bacon. A beautiful, thick, fatty, exquisitely juicy cut of bacon. Executive Chef Charlie Palmer, owner of several New York City restaurants, calls his style of cuisine “Progressive American,” and in America, bacon is literally from the belly of the pig (not true elsewhere in the world, since bacon can be cut from multiple sections). Although Chef’s menu elegantly opens to reveal first the ‘bar snacks,’ then the appetizers and entrees, I never moved beyond the first element of the menu that caught my eye. Pork Belly.

The belly was served in the style of pastrami sliders, replete with cole slaw, russian dressing, and raclette cheese, served on the tiniest little brioche, and topped with a few slivers of toasted sea salt. Three glorious squares of pork belly were each encased in this delicate take on a delicatessen favorite. Each bite was distinct, highlighting the fat of the belly, the crunch of the salt, the ooze of the slaw and dressing, the softness of a slightly soggy bun. And although it sounds decadent, the size of each portion was little more than bite size. I was so satisfied I even refused the dessert menu. This might just be my new diet…

Fresh, Healthy Dinner, with a peppery kick

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Dinner last night was a late affair—I got home around 9 after a book reading at McNally Jackson. And by book reading I should say cheese tasting. Liz Thorpe from Murray’s Cheese Shop in NYC has recently published a book on cheese, and to elucidate her findings, she brought snacks. Brilliant. But more on that another time.

Because it was late, I wanted to throw something light and healthy together, without taking too long. Looking in my fridge, I came across egg whites left over from a custard I had made for ice cream a few days before, corn which I had steamed and cut off the cob a few days before, cherry tomatoes that were beginning to turn, and very (almost too) soft avocados. Knowing that fresh produce stays fresh for, oh, a day, I realized I had let one too many days pass. I had to act fast.

I began by whisking up the egg whites and letting them heat slowly over a low flame. Meanwhile, I got to chopping. I halved and scored the avocado and set aside. Then, I plopped the corn into a large bowl and sliced my way through the tomatoes, some jalapenos, a handful of cilantro, and a red onion. I tossed them in a bowl and added some fresh ground salt and pepper. At precisely that moment, my eggs looked about cooked through, so I added the avocado pieces to the pan and took them off the heat.

Somehow, I had managed to salvage the goods, with enough of everything to go around for five (friends had come over post cheese tasting). A splash of peppery Domaine des Corbillières Touraine Rosé went perfectly with this simple, fresh meal with a kick – don’t forget, I’d thrown in a jalapeno or two. Score one for summer produce.

The Gourmet Weekly – a personal note from Ruth

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I am a huge fan of Ruth Reichl, the editor in chief of Gourmet. And even though I’ve had the privilege of meeting her, I look forward to her weekly newsletter which is such a beautifully crafted personal expression of the foodie insights that are on the her mind. In fact, it’s much more personal than a fleeting meeting. Here’s an excerpt from this week’s letter (because it really feels more like a letter, not just another newsletter):

“When I first arrived at Gourmet, I was stunned to discover that the most-requested recipes were all for salads. To me, a salad was something you threw together at the last minute from whatever greens you happened to have on hand, not something that you actually went out and shopped for. Then I became addicted to the stunning salads that our test kitchen is constantly coming up with, and I began to understand why our readers were so crazy for them.”

Gone Shrimpin

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This is me on a shrimp boat in southern Georgia near St. Simons Island. My family and I went trolling for shrimp on the Lady Jane, and although I personally did not, ahem, do much to bring them in, I did get to join in the eating of the freshest shrimp I’ve ever had.

The water was boiling in a pot while we trolled through the rivers of the marsh. The cap’n’s son helped reel the net in. While giving us a marine biology lesson on the horseshoe crab (a relative of the spider), he pulled the heads off of the shrimp and tossed them in a bucket.

Next thing I knew, I was peeling of the shells of the softest, most supple shrimp I had ever tasted in my life. Rather than having that chewy, mealy consistency that even flash frozen shrimp can sometimes have, these were little like butter, melting in my mouth without needing to chew – well, almost.

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An unpronounceable wine is pronounceably good

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Txakoli [cha-ko-lee]

A Spanish wine from the Basque region, this dry, effervescent white wine is my new discovery and favorite wine of this summer season. I first experienced it when I went to Mercat, a Barcelona-style Spanish restaurant on Bond Street in downtown NYC. Knowing very little about Spanish wines, I asked the bartender for a suggestion – something crisp and dry.

From there the spectacle began, as did my love affair with Txakoli. Because of the effervescence, Txakoli is traditionally poured with a T-shaped spout from a distance high above the head – essentially, an armspan apart, since the glass is held low – in order to aerate the wine and bring the bubbles to life. We watched our bartender pour, amazed that not a drop fell to the floor.

The wine itself is light-colored, with a slightly green tinge and tiny little bubbles that stream to the top. And it is delicious, with the green giving it a slightly herbaceous and citric quality that I find particularly refreshing in white, summer wines. The indigenous grape hondarribi zuria is the main varietal in the wine, and it is this grape which imbues Txakoli with its refreshing acidity and kick. The effervescence comes from the fact that the wine is sealed off before fermentation is complete, so that as the sugar turns to alcohol, the CO2 that is released is trapped inside.

Sauvignon blanc drinkers that are interested in something zing-y and new, you’ve found your wine.

a desconstructed “cassoulet”

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I am using the term “cassoulet” very loosely, as a disclaimer for those who believe in making cassoulet by the writ. Originating in France–or more accurately in the area known as the Occitane–it is a peasant dish, a rich, slow-cooked bean stew that also contains some sort of meat. I was looking to create a cheap, easy dish to pair with a bottle of 2003 Pinot Noir from the winemaker “Lorca” in Monterey, CA., a Christmas present from my cousin. The French grape given an American twist inspired me to do the same.

White beans, mushrooms, chicken–a very protein-heavy combination–formed the basis of this dish, so to offset the weight, I used chicken breasts. Chicken breasts tend to be my least favorite cut of meat, mostly because people tend to buy the boneless, skinless variety and then proceed to cook the heck out of it, thus draining any last residue of moisture and flavor left to it. I opted for bone-in, skin-on breasts, which are both more flavorful and cheaper.

After browning the chicken, skin side down, in the pan, I placed it alongside bite-sized pieces of red-skinned potatoes in a deep-rimmed baking dish. I sprinkled kosher salt, fresh ground pepper, and herbes de provence over the ingredients, as well as some olive oil, and left it to bake in the oven for about a half hour. In the meantime, I added a can of drained cannellini beans and chopped white mushrooms to the pan juices and let the flavors meld over low heat. The speed up the cooking process and to retain moisture, I covered the pan with a lid, stirring occasionally.

Once the chicken was complete and its juices had set, I sliced the breasts and added the meat to the pan, just momentarily to allow the flavors to combine. I served my “cassoulet” alongside the potatoes and steamed peas. Then, we popped the Lorca. I usually would not pair a newer Pinot Noir with a heavy dish like the one I prepared, but the age of the wine promised structure, spice, and tannins, without being as overpowering as a Cabernet might have been. And I was proven correct: the wine brought out a sort of succulent sweetness to the pan stew, especially in the mushrooms, and the dish itself added an element of depth to the already delicious wine. The perfect way to celebrate a lovely gift.

a little turkey…

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Thanksgiving…turkey, turkey, turkey. Brined turkey, roast turkey, fried turkey.

I’m not talking turkey yet. Today, I pay homage to Turkey’s more ubiquitous little brother, Chicken. In America, chicken is the go-to meat. It can be found anywhere, cut anyway, and it is always affordable–especially if you’re willing to do the dirty work yourself. I am a fan of buying whole chickens; you pay the same amount that you would for pre-sliced, deboned, deskinned chicken breasts (which is essentially chicken sans flavor). A whole chicken, whether roasted in its entirety or braised in pieces, is a filling crowd-pleaser.

Inspired by the rotisserie chickens in the deli by my office, I decided to roast a chicken for dinner. I had two big boys to feed, and as I would soon be leaving for the holiday, I wanted to clean out my pantry as much as possible. Thus, a menu was born–roast chicken with mashed sweet potatoes and steamed broccoli. I figure you can’t get much healthier while eating so heartily.

After cleaning the bird and putting the innards into water for chicken stock (to get the most bang for my buck!), I began to rub it down with salt, pepper, and thyme. After slicing garlic into slivers, I cut into the thicker parts of the meat to stick the garlic in. Lacking kitchen twine, I used thread to tie the bird together. The bird, along with three aluminum wrapped potatoes, were put into a 425 degree oven for a hour and twenty minutes (the bird weighed about 5 pounds), and I left it alone. At the twenty minute mark, I cut up the broccoli and threw it into the steamer.

We set the table, threw the broccoli into a bowl after rinsing it in cold water to stop the cooking process, mashed the sweet potatoes with skins on in another bowl, threw a little kosher salt on both, all while the meat settled. I carved up the chicken, we sat down, and twenty minutes later, plates were cleared and stomachs were full.

If only Thanksgiving were that easy…but then, where would the fun be?

Louisiana Wedding

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I have not had as much fun or as much food as I had this past weekend in quite some time. I went down to a wedding for an old family friend (well, she’s young, but the friendship is old) in Shreveport, Louisiana. The wedding was the perfect Southern affair, spanning several days, requiring several changes of outfits, and most importantly tasting several different elements of Louisiana cookin’. And I brought an Italian along for the ride.

G and I arrived in Shreveport on Friday afternoon and found ourselves, along with the rest of my family, the welcome house-guests of the father-of-the-bride’s brother and his wife. We were put up in their guest cottage, which was outfitted with more breakfast/lunch/snack food than one family could consume in a weekend, even if there weren’t meals planned. We unpacked, hung our nice things so they could de-wrinkle, and set about to resting before the rehearsal dinner.

That night, at the Shreveport Club, the groom’s family (out-of-towners from Austin) hosted a lovely surf-and-turf dinner–beef tender and shrimp in a cream sauce. The rehearsal dinner, I learned, is traditionally given by the groom’s family for close family members and out-of-town guests, and I figured we were a bit of both. The wine was a little bit on the weak side (more acid than umph), which was unfortunate as it was the night where we sat through many a speech! One outfit and one meal down.

We went to bed so that we could get up and do it all over again. Friends of the bride’s family hosted a pre-wedding brunch. We were welcomed into their gracious, palatial home–rather reminiscent of Monticello–with a choice of mimosa or bloody mary. I went for spice over sweet, and the bartender threw in a special something, a pickled green bean, the likes of which I’d never before seen in a bloody mary. It was a nice change from celery. Brunch was served buffet style–cheese grits, the most moist fried chicken I’ve ever tasted, asparagus with a gremoulade sauce, and meat pie, right out the fryer. We took our plates outside to sit in the sun, attacking the chicken with our hands. The dessert that followed was just as good–homemade palmiers, coconut and blueberry bars, and the famous Louisiana praline (nothing but sugar, pecans, vanilla, and butter). All of it was sweet enough to make your teeth curl. Two outfits and two meals down.

The wedding was at 4pm, so we had a bit of time to explore the town and drive by the big, majestic homes of a Southern town that hasn’t exploded like my hometown of Atlanta, whose growth has encroached upon the once large and luscious lawns. We then changed to make it to the church on time. Like a true Episcopalian service, the processional was longer than the ceremony, leaving me enough time to tear up but not enough to cry. Then, we headed back to our place, as that’s where the reception was to be held.

We drove up to a big brass N’awlins band playing. It was much colder than everyone had expected, so many of the in-town women broke out their fur coats as we stood outside to wait for the bride and groom to arrive. We all grabbed glasses of champagne, as well as the (warmer) spicy crawfish beignets and espresso cups of mushroom soup splashed with cognac. We finally migrated to the back of the house, to the tent, so that we could all get warm under the heaters, and be dancing, imbibing, and eating.

The father-of-the-bride had chosen the wine–a Crucillon garnacha that is big and fruity, with a little kick. It’s his favorite because it’s both good and affordable (even though they don’t sell it in his town). My mom got him hooked. Different stations were placed around the edge of the tent–pasta with shrimp and taso (a Louisiana sauce based on the type of sausage of the same name); wheels of cheese; mini-burgers; grits with a crawfish cream sauce; and lamb and beef tender. The cakes were cut and passed around. The groom’s cake was a black forest cake, made predominantly of meringue, while the wedding cake was made of layers, alternating white and red velvet. Everyone ran around, tasting and dancing, until the band quit playing so they could head back to Houston. Three outfits (and a coat) and three meals.

Sunday morning brought Sunday brunch and a last chance to get together and say goodbye before the bride and groom left for their honeymoon and the before the guests headed home. This meal–the most simple of all–was the most divine. The furniture in the bride’s family home had been cleared out for the most part and replaced with little dining tables. Everyone headed toward the dining room buffet and stocked up on grits, green beans, and grillades. I had never heard of grillades before yesterday, but this spicy round steak stew, when served over grits, is the most delicious hang-over cure ever. Especially when followed by lemon squares. Too bad we had to get on a plane after that…although it’s probably better for my waist-line.

Oh, and for the record, that’s four outfits and four meals. In a two day span.

**for more information on Louisiana cuisine, check out John Folse’s “The Encyclopedia of Cajun and Creole Cuisine.”

Getting creative with beets

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Since I’ll be changing apartments in a week, I’ve been trying my hand at creating new recipes based on the things that I have lying around in my kitchen. One such ingredient is canned beets…what the heck are you supposed to do with those!? I’ve never been a huge fan of beets and don’t really know how to use them outside of a salad, but as of yesterday I had two cans in my kitchen (stocked by Giorgio’s mother back in August). As I am not one to waste, I decided to see what creative and edible invention I could come up with.

I decided to make pasta. We were having a few people over for dinner, and homemade pasta is always a hit. While Giorgio kneaded the pasta dough, I drained one of the cans of beets and threw the contents into the food processor. After adding a bit of salt and ricotta, I pressed “puree.” The result was a thick, deep purple mousse–beautiful on the eyes but still a little harsh on the palate. I kept my fingers crossed as we rolled out the dough and cut circles into it using the beet can.

From the time the pasta dough is kneaded, you have to work fast as you manipulate it. To make ravioli or agnolotti (stuffed pasta in the shape of a half-moon), you must add the filling, being careful not to overfill, and seal the edges with water before it starts to harden. Otherwise, it is more likely to come apart in the boiling water. A teaspoon of the beet mousse went onto every pasta cut-out. I then wet the edges with a bit of water and pressed the sides together, creating little half-moons. Some stuck to the surface as I tried to transfer them to the drying cloth–these, I had to sprinkle with extra flour to absorb the moisture.

While the pasta dried, I assembled the rest of the meal. I washed and sliced the endives, added a bit of gorgonzola, and topped the salad with some oil and balsamic vinegar. With the first course ready to go and the table being set, I peeled a few pears to roast in the oven in a pan full of watered-down orange juice. I made a makeshift double-boiler to melt butter and chocolate chips, to which I added some stiff egg whites. When the water started to boil for the pasta, I sat everyone down at the table, basted the pears, served the salad, and tossed the agnolotti into the water.

The endive salad was a light precursor to the main course. The agnolotti came out beautifully–the flavor of the beets was more subdued, balanced by the sage and walnut butter which I had drizzled on top. We poured a bit of Valpolicella into the glasses to enjoy alongside our meal. After we cleared our plates, having sopped up the extra butter with bits of baguette, I served the pears, topped with the chocolate glaze. All in all, a delicious meal made with the things I had lying around the house–canned beets, sage leaves, walnut pieces, flour, eggs, pears, and chocolate chips–and every course left me wanting to lick my plate clean.