Yellow split peas with spinach and saffron-coconut sauce

You're going to have to trust me on this one. It took me forever to get around to posting it because I had to get at least a couple of pictures of the rather more photogenic ingredients. I didn't want the only photographic representation of the dish to be a picture of the finished product, lest it drive you away entirely. You see, this dish isn't going to win any beauty pageants. Frankly, I was hesitant to include a picture of the finished dish at all; and although I did eventually include one, I sure didn't want to lead with it, lest you run away without ever giving it a chance.

The texture is gloppy and vaguely mushy*; and unlike certain other gloppy and vaguely mushy things, it doesn't have a lovely, vibrant color going for it. The color here is somewhere between bad 70s shag rug and... well... let's not continue down that road after all, shall we? There are also little bits of limp green stuff suspended in the gloppiness. Like I said, not going to get high marks for aesthetics.

But bear with me; better yet, take a leap of faith and cook this unlikely winner. Wait until you taste it, or even just smell it from across the room as it cooks, and it will surely win you over. Why? It's a party. A party in your mouth. The split peas (yellow ones) are incidental; what makes this dish a keeper is the chile pepper, the coconut milk, and the saffron.

If that looks like a big mess of ingredients all thrown together in a pot, that's because it is. This dish is surprisingly simple in that there's no sauteing the aromatics in oil, none of the procedure that I think of as routine for virtually any dish containing onion and/or garlic. You just dump most of the ingredients in the pot, add some water, and cook until they're... well, until they're mushy. (Trust me! It's good!) Then add the coconut milk and the spinach, let the spinach wilt, stir it all together, and you're done. And I swear on all that is delicious in this world that it tastes better than it looks. Recipe--and a picture of the final product--below.

Spinach and yellow split peas with saffron-coconut sauce

Adapted from The Real Dirt on Farmer John Cookbook

Serves 4

Ingredients

• 2 cups chopped onion (from 1 large onion)
• 2/3 cup yellow split peas, well rinsed and picked over for pebbles
• 4-8 thin slices of fresh jalapeno pepper, seeded
• 1 teaspoon minced or pressed garlic (from about 2 medium cloves)
• large pinch saffron
• 1 cup coconut milk
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1 cup coarsely chopped spinach (4-8 ounces)

Directions

1. Combine the onion, peas, pepper, garlic, and saffron in a medium pot, and add enough water just to cover the peas.
2. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer, partially covered, until the water has been almost entirely absorbed and the peas are slightly mushy, about 45 minutes.
3. Add the salt and coconut milk, and stir to combine.
4. Dump the spinach on top of the peas and such and, without stirring, cover the pot and cook for 10 minutes.
5. Uncover the pot and mix everything together. If necessary, simmer a bit longer until the peas reach the consistency you want.
6. Serve warm, ideally over rice.

Notes

• Using 4 slices of pepper will give you quite a mild dish, so if you prefer your food to have a bit more kick, I recommend using 8 or even more slices, or substituting a hotter pepper (like serrano or birds-eye).
• If you do serve this over rice, the recipe recommends cooking the rice in a mixture of orange juice and water, but I didn't find plain rice inadequate.

I'm sitting here laughing at the thought of the looks on all your faces when you see this and wrinkle your noses. Saffron and coconut milk, people, just think about the saffron and the coconut milk.

* In truth, the gloppiness is actually a virtue in my book. I love soupy, messy foods that I can spoon over rice and then stir together to form an unsightly but superbly flavored mess of mush-with-rice. For me, that is a perfect recipe for comfort food. It's no accident that soupy, messy, flavorful rice--risotto--is one of my ultimate comfort foods.

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What you see in that picture there is my new favorite summer dish. It is a dish for those evenings when it's too hot to cook something really warm, but when, after weeks of hot weather, you're growing tired of eating only chilled or room-temperature foods. The pasta has a bit of warmth to it, which takes the chill off the cheese and makes it melt ever so slightly; it gives an illusion of warmth and heartiness without making you feel like you need to put a cool cloth to your forehead. At the same time, the tomatoes and herbs go in off the heat, so that what little cooking happens does so only with the leftover heat of the pasta. As a result, the flavors stay fresh and light in a way that's well suited to a summer afternoon or evening, but you also get just a hint of a rib-sticking feeling from the pasta and warm cheese.

This is also one of those dishes that's great for a weeknight, when you get home later than expected and just want to get something tasty on the table (and in your belly) without resorting to takeout. All of the prep can be done in the time between putting the water on to boil and taking it off to drain the pasta. The only dishes you'll dirty are a pot, a colander, a cutting board, and a knife, plus the bowl and fork you'll use to eat the pasta--you can even eliminate the bowl if you'd rather eat straight from the pot--so cleanup is quick.

What's more, it's easy. You boil some water and cook some pasta; you cut up some cheese and tomatoes; and you chop some herbs (you could even do the herbs in a food processor if you aren't all that confident with a chef's knife). And when the pasta's done, you essentially throw it all together in the same pot you used to cook the pasta, with a touch of olive oil and a squeeze of lemon juice or vinegar. There's little or no measuring required (I've provided measurements as a guide, but pretty much everything should be "to taste"), nothing to burn, and really very little you can do to screw it up, short of forgetting about the pasta for half an hour and letting it cook into mushy oblivion. Of all the recipes I've posted in recent memory, this is probably the easiest and most satisfying, and the one I'd most recommend to trepidatious newbie cooks.

And right now, as the first tiny tomatoes are starting to appear at the market, is a great time to make this recipe part of your collection. Cherry, pear, or grape tomatoes; one color or many colors; it doesn't matter: they all taste great in this dish. You could substitute pieces of a larger tomato, and I'm sure that it would be good, but I think that there's something about the flavor of cherry tomatoes that really works well here and is refreshingly different from standard pasta + fresh tomato fare. Use whatever herbs you have available, and/or whatever you think would taste good. I've had success with parsley + basil and parsley + mint, and the original recipe calls for oregano and garlic chives (or regular chives). My version is below the fold.

Orecchiette with Tomatoes and Mozzarella

Adapted from Bon Appetit, August 2009

Serves 4 generously

Ingredients

• 10 ounces orecchiette pasta (roughly 3 cups uncooked)
• 1 pound fresh mozzarella, either pea-sized perlini or cut to the size of fresh peas
• 1 pound grape, cherry, or pear tomatoes, halved
• 1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
• 3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice or white vinegar
• 1/4 cup minced fresh herbs (e.g. basil, parsley, oregano, chives...)

Directions

1. Bring a large pot of water to a boil, and salt it generously. Cook the pasta until it is tender but firm, stirring now and then to ensure that the pasta does not stick together.
2. Drain the pasta and return it to the pot.
3. Add the mozzarella to the hot pasta. Stir until the cheese softens and starts to melt, about 30 seconds.
4. Add all remaining ingredients, and toss gently to distribute herbs evenly. Season to taste with salt and pepper, and serve.

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In which I go a little overboard with leftovers

This won't come as a shock to many of you, but if there's a Hell, and if I wind up going there (in a handbasket or otherwise), it will almost certainly be for gluttony. Anyone who cooks and eats as much as I do is bound at least to be a candidate, if not a shoo-in, for the third circle. Accordingly, when I found myself with leftover pastry cream this weekend, there was only one thing to do about it: make some choux paste, and bake up some eclairs and cream puffs.

I get the sense that choux paste, or pâte à choux, has gotten a bit of an undeserved reputation for difficulty. I once brought chocolate eclairs to a potluck, and from people's reactions, you would have thought that I had made the sort of thing you see on the World Pastry Championships. All I'd made was a bit of choux paste, some pastry cream for filling! Seriously folks, eclairs and cream puffs might look fancy and sound like they'd be all kinds of tricky and temperamental, but they aren't. They just aren't. You boil together some water and butter, you dump in some flour and beat it like crazy, add some eggs, and beat some more until you start to see a film on the bottom of the pan. It's that simple.

Choux paste is not only one of the easiest items in a baker's repertoire, it's also one of the fastest. You can go from raw ingredients to baked cream puffs in under half an hour, plus a little more time for the oven to heat up. It's perfect for when you find yourself with unexpected guests, because it bakes up quickly and can be filled with all manner of things. You get the idea. There is no reason for this not to be in your cooking arsenal.

The recipe I've written up here (below the fold) is the master recipe from Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking. It's served me well for as long as I've had that book, which is going on several years now. This is the sweet version, suitable for filling with things like ice cream, whipped cream, pastry cream, or--in my case--a combination of whipped cream and pastry cream. Fresh berries would not be out of place, and indeed I couldn't resist placing fresh raspberries on top of the cream in some of mine. If you are so inclined, the paste would also be excellent fried up and rolled in sugar (or cinnamon sugar). And if on the other hand an hors d'oeuvre is what you have in mind, I have included instructions at the end of the recipe for a savory pâte à choux. So have at it!

Pâte à Choux

Adapted from Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking

Makes about 2 cups, which you can portion as you see fit

Ingredients

• 1 cup water
• 3 ounces (6 tablespoons) butter, cut into pieces
• 1 teaspoon sugar
• pinch salt
• 3/4 cup all-purpose flour
• 4 eggs

Directions

Making the pâte à choux:

1. Combine the water, butter, sugar, and salt in a 1 1/2-quart, heavy-bottomed saucepan. Bring the mixture to a boil, and simmer until the butter has melted. While the butter melts, measure out the flour.
2. Remove the pan from the heat and immediately dump in all of the flour. Beat it the mixture vigorously with a wooden spoon or spatula for several seconds, or until thoroughly blended.
3. Return the pan to moderately high heat, and beat the mixture for a further 1-2 minutes. The mixture should come together in a ball, pulling away from the spoon and the sides of the pan, and leaving a slight film on the bottom of the pan.
4. Remove the pan from the heat. Make a well in the center of the paste, and break one of the eggs into the well. Beat it into the paste for several seconds, until it has been absorbed and the mixture is smooth. Repeat with the remaining eggs; it will take a bit longer for the last two eggs to be properly absorbed, so keep beating. Once they're all absorbed, beat just a bit more to ensure that everything is well blended.

For small pastries (puffs 1 1/4 - 1 1/2 inches in diameter, or eclairs of that width):

1. Fit a pastry bag with a 1/2-inch round tip, and spoon the paste into it.
2. Squeeze the paste onto a buttered or parchment-lined baking sheet, forming mounds about 1 inch in diameter and 1/2 inch high, and spacing mounds about 2 inches apart.
3. Smooth peaks and rough spots with the flat side of pastry brush dipped in an egg beaten with 1/2 teaspoon water (or simply a wet fingertip).
4. Bake in a 425F/220C oven for approximately 20 minutes. The puffs are done when they have doubled in size and turned golden brown, and are crusty to the touch.
5. Remove the baking sheet from the oven, and use a sharp knife to pierce the side of each puff. (If making eclairs, cut a 1-2" slit in the side of each eclair.)
6. Return the puffs to the oven, turn the oven off, and leave the door ajar for 10 minutes.
7. Cool puffs completely on a rack, fill as desired, and serve.

For large pastries (puffs 3 inches in diameter, or eclairs of that width):

1. Fit a pastry bag with a 3/4-inch round tip, and spoon the paste into it.
2. Squeeze the paste onto a buttered or parchment-lined baking sheet, forming mounds approximately 2 inches in diameter and 1 inch at the highest point, and spacing the mounds 2 inches apart.
3. Smooth peaks and rough spots with the flat side of a pastry brush dipped in an egg beaten with 1/2 teaspoon water (or simply a wet fingertip).
4. Bake in a 425F/220C oven for 20 minutes, until the puffs are lightly browned and have doubled in size. Reduce the oven temperature to 375F/190C and bake a further 10-15 minutes, or until the puffs are golden brown and crusty to the touch.
5. Remove the baking sheet from the oven, and use a sharp knife to cut a 1-inch slit in the side of each puff.
6. Return the puffs to the oven, turn the oven off, and leave the door ajar for 10 minutes.
7. If at the end of 10 minutes the puffs are damp inside (open one to find out), remove the damp centers from the puffs. Do this either by sticking the handle of a teaspoon through the slits in the puffs and scraping out the centers, or by cutting the puffs in two horizontally and scraping out the damp centers with a fork. If you choose the latter method, allow the halves to cool separately, and then replace the tops once they have cooled.

Notes

• The recipe above is for a dessert puff. For a savory version: eliminate the sugar, increase the salt to 1 teaspoon, and add 1/8 teaspoon freshly ground pepper and a pinch of freshly grated nutmeg. These seasonings should be added in the first step, combined with the butter and water.
• A plastic bag makes a reasonably good substitute for a pastry bag. Cut one corner to make an opening of the desired size.
• If you do not wish to use the paste immediately (while it is still warm), you can keep it in the fridge for a few days, or freeze it. Rub the surface with butter and cover it with waxed paper (or plastic wrap) to prevent a skin from forming. To reheat, set it in a heavy-bottomed saucepan over low heat and beat vigorously until it is smooth, lump-free, and warm (not hot) to the touch. Do not heat it too much, or it will not puff properly. Large puffs made with reheated paste might not puff as well as with fresh paste, but small ones should do fine.
• The baked puffs freeze well. Thaw and re-crisp them by setting them in a 425F/220C oven for 3-4 minutes, then proceed with the filling and serving.

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Summer kicks into gear with stone fruit

Summer gets an early start with strawberries and raspberries, but I don't feel like the season truly hits its stride until the stone fruit start coming in. We had wild plum trees in our backyard when I was growing up, which made it easy to chart summer's progress, and also meant that come the end of June several of the trees in the yard were drooping with the weight of golf ball-sized plums. It didn't help that my parents planted additional varieties of plums, so that at the height of the season we had a veritable glut of fruit on our hands.

Would that we had had this recipe back in those days! (For the most part, we made a lot of jam.) It is a simple and (relatively) easy way to go through some plums. I say "relatively" easy because the plums we got then, and the plums I get now in my CSA share, are of the cling variety--they don't give up their pits easily. In fact it can be a slippery mess trying to get the plums cut neatly into slices, especially if the plums are very ripe. The rest of the preparation, though, is straightforward and takes no longer than the oven takes to come up to temperature. You don't even have to toast the almond slices if you're short on time, though I recommend that you do.

I think that this tart looks prettiest when you use a variety of plum that's dark on the outside and paler close to the pit, but you could use any kind of plum that you have on hand. Any kind of stone fruit, really, as I'm sure it would work with apricots, nectarines, or peaches--even cherries, if you're willing to pit and slice that much fruit for one tart. Recipe below!

Plum and Almond Tart

Adapted from Bon Appetit, July 1996

Makes one 14x14" tart

Ingredients

• 1 sheet frozen puff pastry, thawed
• 1/2 cup sliced almonds, toasted
• 6 tablespoons sugar, divided
• 2 tablespoons all-purpos flour
• 1 3/4 pounds red plums, pitted and cut into wedges 1/3-inch thick

Directions

1. Place oven rack in lower third of the oven, and preheat the oven to 400F/205C.
2. Line a large baking sheet with foil or parchment paper.
3. On a lightly floured work surface, roll out the puff pastry to a square 14 inches on a side, trimming the edges if necessary to make a neater square.
4. Transfer the pastry to the prepared baking sheet. Leaving a 1-inch border on all sides, prick the pastry all over with a fork.
5. In a small bowl, combine the almonds, the flour, and 2 tablespoons of the sugar. Sprinkle the mixture over the pastry, again leaving a 1-inch border on all sides.
6. Place the plum slices in a medium bowl. Add the remaining 4 tablespoons sugar and toss to coat the plums evenly. Arrange the plums over the almond mixture.
7. Bake the tart until the pastry is puffed and golden brown, and the plums are tender and juicy, 25-30 minutes. Cool the tart on its baking sheet on a rack, and serve warm or at room temperature.

Notes

• The pastry can be prepared, sprinkled with the almond mixture, 3 hours ahead of time. Keep chilled.
• This tart is best the day it's made (within a few hours of baking, to be honest), but it keeps reasonably well for something involving puff pastry.
• If you happen to have some pie pastry lying around, or if you don't have puff pastry but can make some pie pastry, you could substitute it for the puff pastry. Leave an extra couple of inches' border around the fruit, and fold the pastry over the fruit to form a galette.
• For a shinier finished product, boil together some plum (or apricot) preserves with a bit of water, and brush the mixture on the fruit when the tart comes out of the oven.

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Happy birthday, America!

I hope that everyone has had a happy, safe, festive Fourth--and one full of good food, at that. I spent lunch with my extended family over in Santa Cruz--taking some brownies and chocolate crinkle cookies with me--and returned home to make another mess in the kitchen. First up, a berry tart, then some pesto potato salad with green beans, then some lemony herb chicken on the grill. We took the potato salad, the chicken, and some of last night's spicy buttered corn and had a picnic at a nearby park.

The tart was for my parents, both as a "happy Fourth!" gift and in belated thanks for my mom's taking care of the kittehs while the Suitor and I were on travel in Boulder. The strawberries and blackberries are from my CSA share. The crust is a fascinating recipe that I have been meaning to write up and post, so I'll save that for later. The filling underneath the berries is a lemon- and vanilla-scented pastry cream lightened by a bit of whipped cream. It is, though I say it myself, a perfect summer dessert. Our dessert... well, I'll say nothing about it at the moment, save that it's something inspired by my trip to Scotland. Guesses, anyone?

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Who are those angels, and why are they singing in my kitchen?

It has long been a source of great shame for me that the best brownies I've ever made came from a box. The box in question (Ghirardelli's triple chocolate brownie mix) is no sloucher, mind. But I'm a firm believer in the virtues (and superiority) of baking from scratch, and my inability to craft a brownie that measured up to Ghirardelli's has been a thorn in my side for years.

My quest to find that holy grail of brownie recipes has been complicated by the perpetual lack of consensus over what makes a perfect brownie. Some like them cakey, others like them fudgy, others like them chewy but not too dense, and so on. As a result, I've often gone ahead with a recipe that's guaranteed to be "the best brownies evah!" only to find them lackluster, or at least not at all what I was looking for.

So when Katie told me that her mom had recently discovered a recipe for "the best brownies she'd ever made," my reaction was mixed. On the one hand, my faith in Katie's mom is such that I trust anything she says about cooking. On the other hand, experience has led me to be skeptical when someone extols the virtues of their favorite brownie recipe.

Well, my faith remains intact, for this is indeed the best brownie recipe I've ever made--with or without a box mix. These brownies are dark and moist, with rich chocolate flavor and just the right amount of chew. I won't claim that these are the best brownies you've ever made--for all I know, you might like them cakey--but in my book, they win, so I would be remiss in not sharing the recipe with you. I highly recommend that you give them a try, and of course I also recommend that you have a glass of milk handy when they're done.

Fudge Brownies

Adapted from King Arthur Flour

Makes one 9x13" pan of brownies

Ingredients

• 1 cup (2 sticks, or 1/2 pound) unsalted butter
• 2 1/4 cups sugar
• 4 large eggs
• 1 1/4 cups Dutch-process cocoa
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 1 teaspoon espresso powder
• 1 tablespoon vanilla extract
• 1 1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
• 1 cup chocolate chips

Directions

1. Place oven rack in middle position, and preheat the oven to 350F/175C.
2. Grease a 9x13-inch baking pan.
3. In a small saucepan, or in a microwave-safe bowl, melt the butter. When the butter is melted, add the sugar and stir to combine. Heat the mixture until it is very warm (110-120F, or about 45C), but not bubbling. It should look shiny as you stir it.
4. Meanwhile, in a large bowl, whisk the eggs until lightly beaten. Whisk in the cocoa powder, salt, baking powder, espresso powder, and vanilla. Stir until smooth. The mixture will be quite thick and stiff, so it might take some muscle to make it smooth.
5. Add the re-warmed butter-sugar mixture, and stir until smooth.
6. Add the flour and stir just until combined, then gently mix in the chocolate chips. The batter will be thick.
7. Spoon the batter into the prepared pan. You might have to help it into the corners.
8. Bake the brownies for 25-30 minutes. They're done when a cake tester or sharp knife inserted into the center comes out with a few crumbs. The brownies will be set on the edges, and moist in the center (but not gooey). Cool completely, if you can manage it, before cutting and serving.

Notes

• The world won't come crashing down if you use regular (non-Dutch-process) cocoa powder.
• Add chopped nuts if you like.

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Eating my way out of air travel stupor

There's something about air travel, particularly rather extended periods of air travel, that makes me crave fresh, clean, un-fussed-about-with food. It's not just the airline food (although I'm sure that has something to do with it), as I feel this way even after flights on which I've either eaten nothing or brought my own food. And it's not just the dehydration, although I'm sure that has something to do with it as well. Perhaps it's a rebellion against hours upon hours spent confined in such a soulless and (metaphorically) sterile steel and concrete environment, cut off from any kind of connection to the earth and to real food.

Whatever it is, I get off of a plane (or a series of planes) and for the next few days, all I want is vegetables*. Crisp, fresh vegetables that give a satisfying rustle (if they're leafy) or snap (if they're succulent) when you take a bite. And I don't want them to be cooked into melting oblivion--soup is not what I'm looking for here. In fact, I tend to go mostly for raw things. And fortunately for me, the timing of this particular glut of travel was such that my favorite vegetables for reviving myself are kicking into high gear: cucumbers, peppers, and tomatoes.

I find these veggies refreshing on ordinary days, but when I've barely slept in days and still, even after one or two showers, feel like I haven't rid my body of that "planed" feeling, their powers of revival seem to be heightened. Add the bite of some onion and the brightness of some lemon and red wine vinegar, and you have a bowl of food that will, if not cure jet lag, at least soothe your body into not hating you quite as much (temporarily, of course).

Also on the list of this dish's virtues: it's easy to make while you're in that post-flight stupor--provided you're not so much of a zombie that you're a danger to yourself and others if you get near a sharp knife. Assuming that you've got the knife safety part covered, then, there's nothing to burn if you fall asleep in the middle of making this dish, nothing in the ingredient list that might make you very ill if you don't cook it thoroughly, and generally no way that it will fail in spectacular fallen-souffle fashion.

I've gone a relatively simple route with the seasonings: salt, pepper, lemon, and parsley. Some ground cumin or cayenne would not be out of place here, and you could substitute vinegar (I'd go with the red wine variety) if you don't have or don't care for lemon. Shallot instead of red onion, black beans instead of chickpeas, add some tomatoes, and so on. You could serve it with pita bread, with crackers, with couscous, in a wrap or just plain. It's one of those endlessly variable recipes that tastes good almost no matter how you make it, which is part of why it's perfect for this not-so-with-it state I'm in. Recipe, such as it is, below the fold.

Chickpea and Vegetable Salad

Makes 4-5 cups

Ingredients

• 1 can chickpeas, drained, rinsed well, and drained again
• 1/2 cucumber, seeded and cut into 1/2-inch dice
• 1/2 red bell pepper, seeded and cut into 1/2-inch pieces
• 1/2 small red onion, finely chopped
• 2 tablespoons minced parsley
• zest and juice of 1/2 lemon
• 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
• salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

Directions

1. Combine all ingredients in a large bowl, and stir to mix.
2. Adjust seasonings to taste, and serve.

* This craving is strong, but not strong enough to keep me from getting right to work on some baking this morning.

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