Sassy Radish

Ok, there’s no way of getting around this. This post. Well, it’s just sitting down, looking me squarely in the face and refusing to budge. It’s taunting me, taking its time, making me carefully search for each word. I hate writing like this: arduous, painful, unnatural. There are days when these posts practically write themselves; my excitement is usually so hard to contain. But today, I’m just out of my element. Which is quite opposite of how I feel about this salad. I think my ardor for this salad is inversely proportional to my ability to convey it.

This salad is officially my cure for winter doldrums. Gray skies and snow banks, you’ve got nothing on me as long as I’m armed with this little burst of sunshine on my plate. It brings a smile to my face even as I type this because this salad is so delightfully happy, you can’t possibly be in a bad mood once you bring a forkful of it to your mouth. The fragrance alone is sparkling, giddy and invigorating. And to say I’ve become obsessed, would be a slight understatement. Minutes after I served this at book club, it was gone, second helpings and all. And pretty looks aside, this salad’s got looks and “brains” so to speak. It delivers on flavor even more than it delivers on looks. And just look at it – isn’t it a stunner?

I should also confess that had I not fallen for this salad hook, line and sinker, I would still have been forced to make it given that I’ve about twenty pounds or citrus sitting at home, on the account of getting a wee bit overzealous in ordering citrus for my grocery delivery. I sort of lost track being so excited to have some in-season fruit, and when grocery boxes arrived and half of them were oranges, lemons, grapefruit and clementines, I initially thought of starting my own juice bar. Vitamin C and I are such BFFs right now – we’re tight like you wouldn’t believe.

My zeal for all things citrus can be easily explained – what other fruit, besides bananas, looks good right now? None! The apples and pears are looking sad and taste uninspiring. Our local grocery store is carrying cherries at a price that made me gasp and price aside, they weren’t looking so great either. Berries are bland, as are melons and stone fruit. This leaves citrus looking quite attractive. And pretty too. My dining room table looks so much brighter with these orange and yellow orbs sitting pretty in a bowl. If nothing else, they cheer me up visually. But as these citrus guys are at their peak right now, they taste amazing as well.

All this salad needs is a little shallot, some slivered mint and cilantro, and a light vinaigrette sweetened with maple syrup to highlight the sweetness of the citrus. What you get is bright, clean, uplifting flavors full of sunshine. I eat this salad and I can’t help but grin from ear to ear; it makes me downright giddy and inspired. Much unlike this post.

Continue reading citrus salad with cilantro and mint.

I think I need a superhero power. You know, something that will enable me to perform extra-human things in the limited time we’re dealt. Like wiggling my nose to clean the apartment. Or teleporting myself to work, and, at the same time, instantly transforming myself from flannel pajamas to office attire, complete with perfect make-up and hair. Or time travel. Like being able to go back to Monday and save some wilting vegetables from a pointless death by rotting. And maybe even tell you about beet salad while I’m at it.

You see, another week gone by, and I was supposed to tell you about this salad on Monday. So much for executing against the plan. Though, in my defense, I was derailed by the elements, and not of the weather variety. I got served with the world’s longest cold, followed by what looked food poisoning or the stomach bug. Either way, it wasn’t fun. And the thing about the latter is that even though it passes in about 48 hours, it really zaps your energy levels. I’d come home from work and within a couple of hours would be completely and totally wiped out. I couldn’t even think about food, never mind write about it.

Even today, I still haven’t gotten my appetite back. In fact, most food just doesn’t seem appetizing to me still. I’ve been eating a lot of citrus and drinking a lot of Gatorade. Yesterday, I had a papaya salad for lunch and then forced myself to eat two oranges for dinner – crazy, I know. And honestly, this food apathy sucks! I can’t wait to be hungry again. I miss my daily cravings of totally random things like lime pickle, or herring, or bahn mi sandwiches. This life of being unexcited by food – it’s not for me, it downright makes me sad. And I hope it goes away soon. I was made for cravings.

I also find that not being hungry in February is just plain weird. We’re smack in the middle of winter. Cold, snowy, desolate winter. A time for soups and stews and eating hearty meals. My local farmer’s market is rich with root vegetables: turnips, onions, carrots and beets. I know it sounds kind of minimal and sad, but I quite like the spartan selection. This kind of simplicity is a great opportunity for these unfairly maligned guys to step up to the plate (poor pun, totally unintended!). I know – root vegetables aren’t winning any beauty contests any time soon – they’re not exactly lookers. They’re more like Cinderellas of the vegetable world: grayish, dull in color, covered in dirt. But, oh, but, with the help of a fairy godmother, or a loving hand, they are easily transformed into something glorious and beautiful – something that will turn heads, or, at the very least, inspire second helpings.

Beets, perhaps, are my favorite of the bunch. Not only do I love their deep red hue, and their sweetness, but I really get a kick out of using the whole vegetable, root and the greens. I sometimes like imagine myself as one of those ingenious, practical cooks that lets nothing go to waste (oh, if only that were true!) – and it makes me beam with pride, even if I am deluding myself a bit. I know my grandmother would be proud. Or maybe she’s expecting that of me. That woman never wastes anything. It’s like she’s got an internal timer of expiration dates of things in her crisper, and manages to cook everything on time. I want that timer, I wonder where she got hers and whether there are more where hers came from. And if it’s a gene that’s inherited, then I certainly hope that mine blossoms soon. Like a superhero power. I’m even willing to forgo the cape.

Continue reading roasted beet salad with oranges and beet greens.

I got so excited cooking this, that I almost completely forgot to take the prep pictures. Which should tell you that you should, if you’re an eggplant fan, go ahead and make this right away. Consider it a direct missive. Waste no time – it is eggplant season and will be such through October.

This was borne out of, well, instinct, really. I was making dinner for a friend on Friday night and our initial plan was to make a stir-fry with vegetables and tofu and serve it over brown rice. But we got carried away – we made that along with leek confit, blackberry pie, and this pomegranate molasses glazed eggplant. What started out as a simple Friday night meal turned into a feast of sorts. And this was the surprise hit.

I wasn’t prepared to cook eggplant and when my friend picked it up, I automatically nodded, but did I have a plan? No.

In fact, I was all shades of disappointment with myself because I didn’t have pie crust waiting for me in the freezer, as I normally do, because I happen to get crazy last-minute urges to bake pies. Then again, it’s safe to say that I happen to have an abnormal love of pie. In fact, I have pies I’ve recently made lined up in the queue that I need to write about and I’m embarrassingly behind.

In any case, when I was amidst baking the pie (with pre-made crust, see I’m not above it!), prepping the stir-fry, and caramelizing leeks, I suddenly had an idea; I was going to bake the eggplant in an olive oil and pomegranate molasses glaze. I was going to add a spoonful of chopped ginger, a clove of garlic and a sprinkle of salt. And then, I was going to let it cook until the eggplant would get soft and impossibly buttery. That, was my plan and that’s what I stuck with.

I was a bit worried because, the whole dish was concocted in mere seconds. I had a flash of inspiration, but I had no idea what the results were going to be. But after my friend ate the near entirety of the dish, while I managed to only get a couple of forkfuls, I knew this improvisation was a hit. I loved my forkfuls and clearly, so did he.

The next day, I got to thinking about how sometimes when we improvise in the kitchen – we succeed. And other times – we fail. Both are good and necessary processes by which we learn, and yet somehow we get burned and scarred by our failures. My first-ever pie crust, an epic fail, caused me to avoid making my own crust for years. But once I got to do it again, I haven’t looked back since. Time and time again, I have to remind myself that should one of the dishes fail, all we have to do is move on, try it again and just realize that sometimes, our tempered eggs will cook, our soufflés might not rise, our cakes might sink.

The worst thing – is that we try it all over again. And if that gets us back into the kitchen, is that really quite so bad?

Continue reading pomegranate molasses glazed eggplant.

My relationship with fennel is reminiscent of an old Hollywood movie , when the heroine says “He’s the most despicable man I’ve ever known!” you know that the two are bound to fall madly in love with one another.

And so it was with me and fennel. I can’t think of a single vegetable, besides fennel, I’ve ever taken an issue with. The mere smell of it, used to send me into gag mode. When a friend insisted on making it for Thanksgiving one year, I struggled with the its “aroma” during the course of the meal. Perhaps it was because of the smell that I had hardly eaten anything that Thanksgiving dinner – I simply couldn’t get past the anisey fragrance of it. But, I had this this feeling that sooner or later I’d have to eat my words.

They say that your palate changes every seven years. Things you might not like at first, you might grow to appreciate later. Which is why I am always open to trying food again, to see if maybe something has changed for me. With fennel, it definitely has – because I now find its taste to be rather pleasant and refreshing. And I’ll be the first one to say that there are times when fennel is a lovely and beautiful thing and not something to be reviled. Thinly sliced in salads, complemented by salt, or fruit, it is something I actually am craving this spring season.

Yes, I’m in spring mode, dear readers. I’ve embraced the fact that it’s around the corner and if you tell me I’m delusional, I’ll simply place my hands over my ears and chant something to drown you out. I’m done with winter, I’m done with snow, and I’ve packed away my scarves and sweaters. Winter will simply have to take the hint. We’ve broken up for good for the next 9 months, and I’m moving on to brighter, greener things! Things that bring baby vegetables and strawberries and rhubarb. I’m ready. Spring – bring it.

And so this salad is the most lovely of ways to welcome spring into your home – and the secret is the dressing – it’s simply divine. And yes, I am gushing about a fennel salad. Fennel – my arch-nemesis. I now can write fennel an ode. Especially when it’s in this salad.

I remember the first time I ate and liked fennel. My then-boyfriend and I were staying with his friends’ place in the Hamptons and someone made a fennel and apple salad with mixed greens. I didn’t want to offend the hostess so when she handed me a plate full of salad, I politely accepted and put a forkful in my mouth. To my surprise, the taste was altogether different from what I expected. The fennel was delicate, ribbon-like and crisp and the tartness of the apple added a nice layering of flavors. It was perfect.

And so from that moment on, thinly shaved fennel salad and I were fast friends. I kept worrying at first, expecting the taste to turn on me, expecting to hate the flavors, but each time, fall a little deeper and deeper in love with fennel. I know – in love! Terribly cliché, I know, but how many can say they’ve had a Hollywood-style love affair with a food?

I spied this fennel tangerine salad in March issue of Bon Appetit and knew instantly this would be a hit. Indeed, when I served it to my guests, we all had seconds. Such enthusiasm for vegetables? Now that’s a recipe worth keeping! Besides with bikini season just around the corner – a good salad is a worthwhile pursuit – call me vain.

Continue reading fennel tangerine salad.

One of the best things about eating at a great restaurant is that in addition to eating a well-prepared meal, you sort of become inspired. You go home with the flavors still lingering on your palate and you wonder for days on end how to recreated it in your kitchen. There’s the kabocha squash with leek ravioli with my name on it brewing in the depths of my mind. And I will make it before the season is out, mark my words. Not a day goes by that I haven’t thought about those ravioli with the fried ricotta and pine nuts in brown butter. [At this point, I slide of my office chair and fall to the floor. THUD.]

So where were we? Oh that’s right restaurants, inspiration, recreating the food at home. Of course. Let’s get back to the matter at hand, shall we?

A few weeks ago a friend of mine and I went to check out this relatively new, well-reviewed restaurant in the East Village/Nolita area, whose focus was on Colonial influenced food. While our meal was nothing short of excellent, the highlight of the meal was this cardamom carrot soup we ordered as an appetizer. The carrot soup arrived, garnished with toasted pepitas (swoon), drizzled with cilantro oil (double swoon) and (takes deep breath) topped with a homemade chili marshmallow a little oozy and melty around its perimeter. [THUD] That’s me falling out of my chair again.

Ok, so. The soup. By now, most of you reading this site, know that I possess a love for soup that runs so deep you’d be hard-pressed to find a comparison for it. I know soup is a little bit grandmotherly, like strained peas or oatmeal, but I love it unabashedly. Soup is warmth. Soup is comfort. Soup is a glorious thing that you spoon and taste and feel like you’ve a warm blanket on your lap. And since I so over winter at this point, soup makes me feel one day closer to spring.

What can I say to you about this soup? Well, you must know I love it because I recreated it at home mere weeks after trying it at a restaurant. But I also added a few things – gave it a little bit more mystery and caché if you will, but adding ginger, orange juice and curry. The original soup was heavily focused on cardamom, which I loved, but I wanted a little more depth. I wanted cardamom and that secondary aftertaste you feel with a slight curry flavor. I liked it even better than the original soup and will definitely make it again before the season is out – it is unbelievably comforting and is a cinch to make. You can puree it in a blender, but I must tell you that my new immersion blender is a thing of beauty. That little gadget is SO powerful and easy to use, that you’d want to get this if only because you will be looking at fewer pots to clean afterwards. A sink that has fewer dirty dishes – to me, that’s the ultimate inspiration!

Continue reading curried carrot ginger soup with pepitas, cilantro oil and a homemade spicy marshmallow.

Sometimes, I operate under the delusion that I have excellent time management skills, that I can multi-task and that no goal is unattainable. Like this recipe, for example. I wanted to share it with you before I left for my vacation to L.A., but I got a bit distracted and failed to do much of anything. And then I thought I might even write about this while on my vacation, but who was I kidding? Not that I didn’t have an opportunity – L.A. was rainy for the 4 out of the 6 days. So much for their eternal sunshine.

In any case, you know that cooking during the week while juggling a demanding job, a social life, and some kind of a fitness regimen can be quite daunting. You get home and you have other things to do like sort your mail, pay your bills, or tidy up around. Before you know it, cooking starts to sound like a chore and not anything remotely pleasant and you find yourself dialing your favorite take-out. Sometimes, it’s just easier not to be bothered and just throw in the towel.

But sometimes, a dish comes along that not only asks for minimal hand-on time, but cooks by itself happily and quietly. You throw a few ingredients together and magically, with a little heat, the meal transforms itself from something relatively pedestrian to something of a treat. Did I mention it was healthy and budget friendly too?

In fact, this cauliflower is so good, that I implore you to drop everything you’re doing and run to the grocery store for the ingredients you might need. It’s that good and that easy. You make a dressing with the oil and the spices, pour over the cauliflower, being sure to coat it well and roast for an hour at 400 degrees. It couldn’t possibly be less work. And yet it’ll taste like a very sophisticated dish – precisely the effect you might be going for at an impromptu dinner party, where your guests, not devout vegetable eaters, not only serve themselves seconds, but confess that you can make any vegetable taste good and should you make them an entirely vegetarian meal, they wouldn’t mind one bit. Now, that’s high praise in my book.

Continue reading roasted cauliflower with indian spices and yogurt dressing.

While I am delinquent with telling you about an ingenious way to reinvent your turkey after Thanksgiving, because let’s face it, turkey leftovers can only get so exciting, I am way ahead of schedule in prepping you for the holidays. And here it goes. Hanukkah or not, I have not met a soul who doesn’t like latkes. And what’s not to love? Crispy, fried, and if done right, lacy pancakes that melt in your mouth. And a Hanukkah with out latkes is like Christmas without a Christmas tree – it’s a must. For all the various latke recipes out there, including the permutations with sweet potato, zucchini and other vegetables, I hold the classic potato recipe near and dear to my heart. A classic is a classic for a reason – its sheer simplicity and elegance outshine any attempts for a trendy update.

Ironically though, it is the simplest and most elementary of things that are at times hard to get just right. I’ve had my fair share of latkes – some good, some bad. The really heavy ones drenched in so much oil, you wonder where the potato went, the really bland mushy ones that aren’t at all crispy, really good ones you pile a ton of sour cream on (I didn’t grow up with apple sauce on my latkes and I still don’t enjoy it).

But this recipe has completely flipped my latke world upside down. I’ve never had latkes so good and the fact that I ate the entire batch I made in just about one sitting is proof enough. I even called my mother to tell her that our family recipe, which I boasted as being the best – was going to have to take a backseat to this one. Martha Stewart, yet again, has exceeded my expectations – because her latkes recipe (her mothers, in fact) is tremendous. Perhaps, it is because she ingeniously figured out a way to decrease the amount of moisture, while maintaining the same starch ratio, which makes the latkes extra crispy. Also, no matter what anyone tells you, you should hand grate the potatoes using the coarse side of the grater. It only takes a few minutes more than the food processor, and the results are a lacier latke, which means a crispier, more delicious latke.

Of course, that means you are in danger of eating your own batch and not sharing with anyone. Hardly a problem in my book, especially if you have plenty of sour cream on hand.

Continue reading potato latkes.

I think I should let you in on a small secret – make me mashed potatoes and I’ll be instantly won over. I know – I sound like I’m setting the bar low here. But in all seriousness, I am truly in love with well-prepared mashed potatoes. You know the kind – perfectly salted, hearty, filling, richly-flavored and undeniably seductive. Potatoes? Seductive? I’m certain some of you are rolling your eyes at me.

Except I think that the potato is kind of like the little black dress – indispensable, perfect for just about any occasion and with limitless possibilities on variations and accessories. I could rattle off at least a dozen mashed potato recipes, each with its own unique flavor, because as ubiquitous as the spud is, its every day appeal is precisely what gives it the versatility it possesses.

So why am I giving you what seems to be the most basic recipe? Why am I even omitting garlic? The trick to these mashed potatoes, in this particular case, is olive oil. The best you have in the house. The best you can afford. Because how sublime your mashed potatoes will taste will depend exclusively on the quality of the olive oil used. It should also be noted that this is a vegan recipe and is perfect for those with lactose intolerance. Or, if you keep kosher, this works well with any poultry or meat dish you are cooking alongside.

And just as it’s sometimes best to keep your little black dress free or any bold accessories – this is one recipe that wins because of its understatement.

Continue reading olive oil mashed potatoes.

I wish I had a great story to tell you about growing up eating kasha varnishkes, but I don’t. I had it for the first time last year at a Jewish deli and it was love at first bite. At the time, I didn’t know it was such a traditional dish. All I was excited about was that there was buckwheat in it and fried onions that, for reasons now known to me (one word, people – schmaltz!) were the best tasting fried onions I could think of. I liked the bowtie pasta, but my fat-loving stomach hinted that egg noodles might have been even better. But there are no bow-tie egg noodles are there? That’s my next googling project right there.

To make a long story short, a couple of weeks ago, Mark Bittman of the Minimalist fame, wrote about kasha varnishkes in the New York Times. And when he mentioned that his grandmother made it all the time, and it was a childhood favorite dish, I made a mental note. Plus he so waxed poetic about schmaltz and fried onions, that the mental note quickly became a full-fledged obsession. Before I knew it, I couldn’t stop mentioning it in conversation as the next thing I was going to cook, and all my Jewish friends, upon hearing about kasha, would recount some childhood memory of theirs that involved eating this dish. Each. And. Every. One.

Except for me.

While chicken soup, matzo balls and gefilte fish have all been commonly occurring dishes at home, this one was noticeably missing. When I asked my mother about it, she didn’t even know what I was talking about. My father vaguely remembered something about his dad making it when my dad was a child. My mother claims to have no memory of it.

I, however, was not to be deterred from starting my own tradition. And so last week, I gathered all my ingredients, minus the schmaltz, and made it for dinner. I chose not to add schmaltz for several reasons. First, I didn’t have any on hand, and to make it, I would need some chicken fat and I lacked that. Secondly, in my efforts to be somewhat healthy, schmaltz would have thrown all that out the window. Third, I wanted to make something vegans could also make – just in case there are any vegans out there looking for Jewish vegan-friendly recipe.

Since I cheated and didn’t use schmaltz, I wanted the oil I used to impart a unique flavor on the dish — and so I cooked with unrefined sunflower oil, which is readily available at most Russian delis. It was amazing – the sunflower oil gave the onions its own special character, and I think I just might continue to make it this way, starting my very own tradition. If you can’t find this oil nearby, try using another type, or use butter to give the dish a richness and unique taste of its own.

Continue reading kasha varnishkes.

My goodness, where do I even start? Since I have posted last, so much transpired in that time. The markets have fallen a precipitous amount with yesterday’s capitulation being quite brutal for the S&P 500. The world is a different place now and it will be interesting to see where the chips will fall or where the bottom might be. But enough of that. This is, after all, a food blog. And you come here, not for my financial take on things, but hopefully, to find recipes for good food.

And yet, partly because I spend my days working in the financial industry and partly because what is happening right now is so big, it’s hard to extricate yourself completely from it, even if your industry is as far away from the markets as it gets. It has affected and continues to affect us all. The restaurants are emptier and it’s now easier to get a reservation at historically difficult to book places. My friends and I are cutting on going out, instead choosing to cook our meals. And as our jobs and our savings are in flux and on a southward spiral, we turn to foods of comfort and greater simplicity to fix some of the anxiety. I know I’ve been eating more mashed potatoes lately – my food equivalent of a security blanket.

Well, this recipes here I have for you here is a doozie. It’s so perfect, I’m annoyed with myself for having taken nearly two weeks to write about it. It’s a triple threat of amazing, with everything you could possibly want in a meal at stressful juncture: easy to make, delicious and comforting, and extremely wallet-friendly. Oh and it feels luxurious too. The recipe comes from Jamie Oliver’s cookbook “Cook with Jamie: My Guide to Making You a Better Cook” – Jamie Oliver, is known to many as the Naked Chef – and I’ve been a longtime fan of his easy, delicious recipes. His premise is elementary – good food need not be complicated or elaborate – sometimes things taste best at their simplest.

Even better, the dish requires minimal counter space – something that came in truly handy because I was making it at the time when my kitchen cart, stood (for nearly 4 weeks!) half-assembled in my kitchen, with spare parts strewn around the rest of my apartment. It was impossible to truly cook or to truly live – I felt like I was dealing with an obstacle course – not a home. The kitchen cart, with its generous counter, also comes with a fold-out breakfast bar – which means more counter space – a lucky find for me!

This is the first recipe I have made from this book, but already, I’ve dog-eared many a page and can’t wait to give other recipes a go. And with my kitchen cart constructed and ready for use – I have no excuse not to cook anymore. All I need it a few more volunteers to drop in for dinner and I will be all set.

Continue reading braised peas with spring onions and lettuce.