Making a meatless ragu

I remember making cauliflower gratin with a mornay-like sauce in culinary school. Blanketing the soft white sauce over the steamed white florets, then sliding the pan under the broiler to create a bubbling crust with a blistered, rust-colored top. To me, this recipe exposed everything that is wrong with our approach to cooking cauliflower. Not sure what to do with a vegetable? Then simply steam it and cover it in cheese sauce!

Since that fateful night, I’ve tried to show cauliflower a little more respect by using it in recipes that showcase its strengths, such as puréed cauliflower soup with paprika, almond and milk; cauliflower mash with garlic, mustard and potato; and pan-roasted florets with a sprinkling of Parmesan. But I was intrigued when I found a recipe for cauliflower ragu in my favorite cookbook by Mario Batali.

A ragu is a thick, rich stew that’s traditionally made from slowly cooking down meat with aromatics and wine. To me, the word evokes warm, carnivorous aromas that permeate one’s house and clothes.

I love using cauliflower in a ragu instead of meat because is it is both luxurious and economical–using the entire vegetable in a way I can relate to. Cooking down the stalk, leaves and florets with onion, garlic, olive oil and water brings out an almost turnip-like quality, which is rounded out with the addition of butter. Fried breadcrumbs and fresh rosemary add texture and a bright, woodsy contrast in flavor. The end result is velvety, creamy and satisfying enough to fill up even stubborn carnivores.

Resources used: This recipe is based on one from Molto Gusto, by Mario Batali. When I mentioned on Facebook that I was making this dish, a number of readers expressed interest in the recipe, so here it is. I promise it will encourage you to think twice before smothering poor cauliflower in cheese sauce. This time why not make cauliflower the sauce instead?

Cauliflower ragu with fresh rosemary and penne

    2 tablespoons olive oil, plus more as needed
    1 head cauliflower, rinsed and leaves reserved
    1 large onion, diced
    5 large cloves garlic (paper removed), smashed and divided
    Salt, to taste
    1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
    1 cup water
    1 whole sprig rosemary, plus 2 sprigs finely chopped
    3/4 cup plain breadcrumbs
    3 tablespoons butter, cubed
    1 box penne
    1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for serving
    Pepper, to taste

Method: Roughly chop the cauliflower leaves. Trim the very bottom of the cauliflower stem, and cut the whole head in half down the center. Remove the core, and cut it into 1/2-inch pieces. Then cut the florets into bite-size pieces and reserve.

Heat a large, heavy-bottomed pot over medium-high heat and add the olive oil, cauliflower leaves, core, chopped onion and 3 garlic cloves. Sprinkle with salt and red pepper flakes, and cook for 2-3 minutes until the leaves soften, then drop the heat to medium low and cook for 18-20 minutes, until the cauliflower pieces are very tender.

Now add the florets, a little more salt and the water. Stir everything together, cover the pot and let it simmer for another 25 minutes, until the cauliflower starts to fall apart.

Meanwhile, warm a few tablespoons olive oil with the remaining 2 smashed garlic cloves and 1 sprig rosemary in a small skillet over medium-high heat. When the garlic and rosemary begin to sizzle, add the breadcrumbs.

Cook, tossing frequently, for about 5 minutes until golden brown. Remove from the heat and discard the garlic and herbs.

When the cauliflower looks like this:

stir in the butter. Season with salt and pepper to taste and remove from the heat.

Boil a large pot of salted water and cook the penne according to the package directions. When the pasta is al dente, use a slotted spoon or spider to spoon it into the pot with the cauliflower (a little pasta water will help loosen the ragu). Add the reserved chopped rosemary and Parmesan cheese, and toss everything to combine well. Check for seasoning, and adjust as needed.

To serve, pile the cauliflower ragu and pasta into bowls, top with a handful of breadcrumbs and a sprinkling of reserved Parmesan. Serve immediately. Serves 4-5.

Ragu for two

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Filed under Cookbooks, Dinner ideas, Vegetarian

A deceptively simple, elegant fish meal

I often psyche myself out when it comes to preparing fish. I think the reason for this is that I eat it more often at restaurants than at home. Somehow, each time I take on a fish or shellfish recipe I have convinced myself that anything less than a chef-style presentation would expose me as a hack. Lightly crusty, salty exterior; perfectly flaky interior; gorgeous little sauce spooned over top with a delicate garnish? No problem. I don’t know why I do this to myself, but I’m sure it is partly responsible for the severe lack of fish recipes in my little inventory.

When cooking fish, it gives you a tremendous leg-up to go for the good-quality stuff. And try to find a few staple preparation styles you’re comfortable with. Fish cooks in almost no time, which makes it perfect for weeknight cooking in a skillet on the stovetop. You might have to screw up a couple to get it right, which is OK.

What I love about this dish is the potato crust acts almost like a little insulator, locking moisture into the fish. It also makes for a fancy presentation without too much effort.

Potato-encrusted tilapia with rosemary-scallion oil

    2 tilapia fillets
    1 large Yukon gold potato, very thinly sliced
    2-3 tablespoons rosemary, chopped and divided
    1 tablespoon olive oil
    1 tablespoon butter
    1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
    1/3 cup scallions, minced (green parts only)
    Kosher salt, to taste
    Freshly ground black pepper, to taste

Method: Preheat the oven to 375°F.

Place the fish fillets on a plastic cutting board and cut in half to make four smaller fillets.

Season with salt, pepper and rosemary.

Top each of the fillets with enough slices of potato to completely cover the surface of the fish, overlapping each slice like shingles on a roof. Sprinkle the potatoes with a bit more salt, pepper and rosemary leaves.

Heat a large cast iron skillet over medium-high heat. Add the olive oil and the butter. When the butter is melted and the oil is hot add the fish, potato side down.

Place the skillet in the oven and bake until the fish is cooked through, 12-15 minutes. (Check the smaller half of the fillet first. It will only need about 12 minutes.)

While the fish is baking, prepare the oil. Mix the 1/2 cup olive oil with the remaining rosemary and the chopped scallion.

Remove the fish from the oven. Carefully slide a very thin spatula under the fish and potato and flip it onto a plate. You might have to rearrange the potatoes a little. Spoon some of the oil and herbs over each fillet. Serve immediately. Note: Add an arugula salad with Dijon vinaigrette and a warm, crusty piece of bread and dinner is served!

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Filed under Dinner ideas, Fish/shellfish

Updating an edible heirloom

My grandmother, Louise Buturac, was born in a small town in Bavaria, Germany. She and my grandpa Joe Buturac, who grew up in Croatia, moved to the United States during World War II. To my sister and me, who spent many summers during our childhood at their home in Fairfield, Conn., they were always Oma and Opa, German for grandma and grandpa.

A young Louise Buturac

Oma was an avid cook, baker and gardener. She passed away when I was very young, long before the culinary bug bit. However, I have powerful food memories from their lovely old house in Fairfield with the bubbling brook out back. The raspberry chocolate bars Oma would always have waiting for us when we arrived. The methodical way Opa would slice pieces from his bagel and smear each one with a generous pat of salted butter. Watching Oma make liverwurst sandwiches and wondering, what is that pasty looking stuff? Oma’s massive garden teeming with herbs, lettuces and too many tomato plants to count. Getting stained fingers and seeds stuck in my teeth from picking raspberries at a local farm, where I always ate more than I collected. Then the secret disappointment that followed when most of those ruby berries were reduced to jam. The tinny sound of utensils scraping the stainless bowl at the dinner table as we passed around Oma’s signature salad, prepared simply with lemon juice, oil, green onion and mache leaves. (I later learned from my aunt that Oma had smuggled the mache seeds in her socks on the trip over from Germany, afraid the tender lettuce didn’t already grow in Connecticut.)

Summer in Fairfield: (left) little Marge and Oma pick berries, (right) my sister in the raspberry field

These memories have mingled over the years with the larger-than-life stories related by my mom of growing up in a house where stuffing your loved ones was the utmost priority. Cream of Wheat breakfasts laced with heavy cream, salt and sugar that would “clog anyone’s arteries.” The anxiety that permeated the house whenever Oma made bread from scratch, as she would keep the kitchen on lockdown to allow the bread the right environment for fermentation. If someone so much as cracked the kitchen door, she would threaten the bread’s collapse and seek merciless retribution on the culprit. And the legendary “hated” salmon fish cakes that were served on Fridays when red meat wasn’t allowed.

I sometimes don’t know where my memories end and the stories begin, though I am grateful for these warm, sepia-toned images of my grandparents.

That said, one of my favorite dishes she passed down is spaetzle. These homemade eggy dumplings are the perfect accompaniment for pork or chicken paillards, beef rouladen (my sister’s favorite), or simple whole roasted chicken. Here I added a bit of grated nutmeg and an assortment of fresh herbs for warmth and depth.

There are many schools of thought when it comes to how best to get spaetzle into boiling water. Some swear by scraping the batter through a colander or slotted spoon because it keeps them uniformly sized and small. I, on the other hand, prefer to use a liquid measuring cup and clean fingers to coax them into the pot. I like my spaetzle large and rustic. In keeping with the way my grandmother always prepared spaetzle, I finish them briefly in a pan with butter and breadcrumbs.

Herbed spaetzle

    2 1/4 cups all purpose flour
    1 teaspoon salt
    1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
    1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg
    3 large eggs, plus 1 egg yolk
    3/4 cup whole milk
    1/2 cup fresh mixed herbs, minced (I used equal parts parsley, thyme, rosemary, and chives), divided
    2 tablespoons butter
    1 tablespoon olive oil
    3/4 cup breadcrumbs

Method: In a large bowl, mix together the flour salt, pepper and nutmeg. Whisk together the wet ingredients in a separate bowl. Pour them into the dry ingredients and mix until well combined. Mix in about 2/3 of the herbs.

Meanwhile, bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Once the water has reached a rolling boil, use a slotted spoon or measuring cup with spout (depending on the desired size) and coax the dough into the pot.

Cook the spaetzle for 2-3 minutes. You’ll know they’re done when they float to the top. Remove them using a slotted spoon or spider, and drop them in a large buttered bowl. (You can do this part up to 3 hours ahead of time. Keep the spaetzle in the bowl covered with plastic wrap until ready to serve.)

A few minutes before you’re ready to eat, heat a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the butter, olive oil and breadcrumbs, and cook for a few minutes. Dump in the spaetzle, and toss to coat in the breadcrumb mixture. Cook for about 5 minutes, until browned. You might want to add a bit more butter as you go to keep the spaetzle from drying out. Toss in the rest of the fresh herbs, and serve immediately.

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Filed under Side Dishes

Weeknight udon with ginger and chicken

I have really come to enjoy weeknight cooking. It’s a great time to shake off the remains of a long day by methodically preparing something that offers instant aroma therapy as soon as it hits the skillet. I always try to keep my pantry stocked with a couple of essentials, like multiple types of pasta, rice, canned beans, a rotating mix of fresh herbs, and eggs or some other kind of protein. This removes the initial anxiety of having to build something from scratch. Just boil some water or heat oil in a skillet and you’re already halfway there.

I find that by accenting my pantry staples with a standout item that I pick up on the way home, like fresh ginger or sesame oil, I get that little shove I need to be creative. “Try me,” it cheerleads from the shelf. “Make something a little different tonight!” Then I try to work it into what I already have on hand. This is a nice way to challenge yourself, albeit only slightly, to make a manageable yet exciting meal on what would normally be just any other Wednesday night.

This dish was inspired by the last lonely chicken breast in a pack of three. While quite large, it simply wasn’t enough to feed 2 people as the main protein. So I thought I’d make it a co-star by cutting it into small strips and tossing it with hearty udon noodles, barely caramelized onion, garlic, scallion and fragrant ginger. I drizzled silky, nutty sesame oil over the noodles at the end for a little elegance.

Ginger-scented udon with chicken and scallions

    1 package udon noodles
    Peanut or vegetable oil, as needed
    1 chicken breast, cut into bite-size pieces
    Salt and pepper, to taste
    1/2 small onion, thinly sliced
    2-inch piece of ginger, peeled and minced
    3 large garlic cloves, minced
    3 scallions, cut into 1-inch pieces, (reserve 2 tablespoons, minced)
    1/2 cup fresh cilantro, divided and rough chopped
    2 tablespoons mirin (sweet Japanese rice wine)
    2 tablespoons tamari (wheat-free dark soy sauce)
    1 tablespoon sriracha, plus more for serving
    1/4 cup vegetable broth
    Juice of 1/2 lemon
    Sesame oil, for garnish

Method: Heat a large pot with salted water until it reaches a rolling boil. Add the udon noodles and reduce the heat to a simmer. Cook for 13-15 minutes, until al dente. Drain and rinse under cold water for about 30 seconds.

Meanwhile, in a heavy-bottomed skillet or Dutch oven, heat the oil over medium high until it ripples. Salt and pepper the chicken pieces, and add them to the oil. Cook the chicken, tossing frequently, until just done, 5-7 minutes (depending on the size of the pieces–cut into a large piece to make sure it’s done). Remove with a slotted spoon, and cover with aluminum foil to keep warm.

Add a little more oil to the pot, and drop in the onion, a little more salt and pepper. Sauté, stirring frequently, until the onion becomes slightly caramelized and soft. Add the minced ginger and garlic and cook for about 1 minute, until fragrant.

Add the scallion pieces and about half the cilantro, and toss everything together. Drizzle in the mirin, tamari and sriracha. Stir to coat everything in the sauces, and allow them to reduce for about 1 minute.

Add the vegetable broth and turn the heat up to high. Once it’s bubbling, reduce the heat to medium and let everything simmer for 2-3 minutes. Add the lemon juice, noodles and reserved chicken.

Reduce the heat to low. Add the rest of the cilantro and scallions, and turn the noodles a few times to combine everything and to allow them to reheat. Note: Add extra broth as needed if the noodles seem a bit dry.

Check for seasoning, and adjust if needed. Heap into large bowls, and drizzle the top with 1 teaspoon of sesame oil. Garnish with additional chopped cilantro and scallion just before serving, if desired. Don’t forget to plop that bottle of sriracha in the center of the table for those–like my husband–who love the spice. Serves 2 with 2 hearty appetites.

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Filed under Chicken, Dinner ideas, Weeknight cooking

The joy of holiday baking

I have inherited a massive recipe box from my husband’s mom, most of which is filled with dessert recipes–her specialty. Every holiday season, we’d get at least two large tins filled with nearly a dozen varieties of cookies–Swedish cinnamon shortbread, Lithuanian mushroom-shaped cookies, mini pecan pie bars, tea danies, orange rolls and nut penuche. Each cookie was unique and had an interesting history of its own, which made opening the tins such a joy because you never knew what you were going to get and there was always a story to go along with each cookie.

Although I wasn’t born with the baking gene like she was, I am determined to carry on the lovely tradition of showering family and friends with cookies at the holidays–even if it takes me a few years to work up to her level of finesse. So here is the first of what I hope will become an impressive arsenal of Christmas cookie recipes in the years to come.

Resources used: Epicurious.com posted this recipe from Gourmet magazine. Chocolate chip oatmeal cookies have always been one of my favorites–I love the slight grittiness of the oats playing off the moist, chewy center of the cookie. The semi-sweet chips add just enough indulgence. I’ve named them for Sean’s mom in honor of her love of all things sweet and the joy she found in working so hard on her Christmas cookies just to give almost all of them away.

Betsy’s chocolate chip oatmeal cookies

    2 cups all-purpose flour
    1 teaspoon baking soda
    1/2 teaspoon baking powder
    1 teaspoon salt
    1 cup old-fashioned rolled oats
    2 sticks (1 cup) unsalted butter, softened
    1 1/4 cups firmly packed light brown sugar
    1/4 cup granulated sugar
    2 large eggs
    1 teaspoon vanilla extract
    1 bag semisweet chocolate chips

Method: Preheat oven to 350°F. In a bowl whisk together the flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt and oats. In a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream the butter and sugars until light and fluffy.

Beat in the eggs, 1 at a time, mixing well after each addition, and add the vanilla. Carefully add the flour mixture, and mix until combined. Note: It’s important throughout the mixing process to stop and scrape down the sides and the bottom of the bowl to make sure everything’s incorporated. Remove the bowl from the mixer and stir in the chocolate chips with a large spatula.

Drop dough by rounded tablespoons 2 inches apart onto baking sheets lined with parchment paper or a silpat.

Bake the cookies in batches in the middle of the oven for 12 to 15 minutes, or until golden. Cool cookies on racks–all except the one you absolutely must taste to ensure it’s just right. Betsy wouldn’t have it any other way.

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Filed under Baked items, Cooking/recipe websites, Dessert, Resources

Truffle meets fennel

My good friend Michael brought Sean and me black truffle salt from Portland, Ore., last time he visited Chicago.

If you haven’t tried truffle, it has a slightly musky, nutty aroma. Black truffle is much less pungent than white, though it still is distinctly savory. Because it’s full of umami, truffle is a lovely complement to rich foods like Parmesan cheese, paté, slow-cooked meat sauce, French fries and mac and cheese–to name a few. I’ve been regularly sprinkling the salt over fried eggs on Saturday mornings and can’t wait to try it on my go-to oven fries.

But last weekend, I had a mini revelation: truffle isn’t limited to rich applications. It is unexpected and delightful in a raw salad. At a family dinner at West Town Tavern, my sister and I ordered a seasonal salad that combined thinly sliced fennel, radish, truffle oil and lemon. The very next day, emboldened by a new application for my truffle salt, I picked up a few fennel bulbs, a lemon and a head of Bibb lettuce.

The results were surprising and truly delicious. The punch of citrus, the fruity olive oil and the slight anise flavor of the fennel married well with the rich, savory truffle salt. And the tender Bibb leaves created a slight texture contrast.

If you can’t find truffle salt, you can swap out truffle oil for the extra virgin olive oil.

Bibb and fennel salad with lemon and truffle

    1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
    Juice of 1 lemon
    Truffle salt, to taste
    Freshly ground black pepper, to taste
    1/4 cup yellow onion, thinly sliced
    1 medium fennel bulb, top removed and cored
    1 head Bibb lettuce, leaves washed and torn

Method: Whisk together the oil, lemon, salt and pepper until combined. Taste for seasoning and adjust as needed.

Place the onion in a strainer and run under cold water for 30 seconds. This will help rinse away some of its sharpness. Dry thoroughly. Remove any brown outer layers from the fennel and slice very thinly.

Toss the vegetables with the dressing, top the salad with another sprinkle of truffle salt and serve immediately.

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Filed under Salad, Vegetarian