At twenty-six years old, my grandmother ran from her country under the protection of the night’s sky. She ran with four children under the age of seven, her husband, and a lifetime of recipes tucked away in her mind. That night they left behind their friends, livestock, farm, language, family, country and way of life, in an attempt to gain freedom. It was a process that would take five years in a refugee camp before being adopted into the United States. A process where they would not be able to return to their homeland or speak with relatives for forty years.

During her life in Latvia, well before women held jobs out of the house, my grandmother was head chef at an all-girls boarding school—those lucky girls. There, she cooked up piradzini (soft, doughy crescent-shaped rolls stuffed with bacon or mushrooms), kotlettes (ground meat patties), and my family’s all-time favorite nac rita atkal.

Nac rita atkal translates as “come back tomorrow.” “In the old days,” my grandmother, now ninety-two, will say in her still broken English, “parties lasted days, with friends sleeping between dancing and eating, close to the fire.” One has to imagine, in a country that can get so cold, where winter nights go on for days, a party that lasts until the one hour of sun-up isn’t a party, it’s a way of life. Snow is not a wispy blanket, but coats the ground in a waist-high thicket. “At those parties,” my grandmother still remembers wistfully, we made nac rita atkal.

My brothers and I know them simply as Latvian Pancakes. They are beyond a treat in my house. They are so good, that even in the six years of my noble vegetarianism, my grandmother knew to make me a veggie version of the savory snack to keep the household peace.

This is a recipe that must always be secretly doubled. One batch goes onto the table for immediate consumption (if it can make it to the table), while the other gets whisked away quickly and quietly, carefully hidden in an odorless, opaque, non-conspicuous container on the other side of the house until everyone is good and stuffed. Even then, it’s whereabouts and contents must be kept unknown except to the privileged few.

To this day, Latvian Pancakes are the one food my brothers and I still fight over to take home frozen. I ration mine down to the week, knowing precisely how many I can eat to keep my addiction at stasis before the next batch will grace my plate.

Unfortunately, it is impossible to write any of my grandmother’s recipes down. They are stored neatly in her brain, now getting a bit foggy, so my uncle has taken to video taping her kitchen movements. She moves quickly. Too fast to measure anything beyond how many eggs are used– which also varies depending on her mood, the outside temperature, the position of the sun, and countless other variables. “Grandma, how much flour?” I’ll ask. “This much,” she says thrusting her fist into the flour and tossing a handful into the mixing bowl. She stirs. “So… one cup?” I question. “No, more!” she declares adding more bit by bit until the batter is to her liking.

While I do not have my grandmother’s exact recipe for this pancake, I am able make a butchered version that is pretty good. After all, I have come to realize, it’s my grandmother’s touch and bittersweet memories of her home that make them truly perfect.

The pancakes are minced meat, always leftovers, usually beef, stuffed inside perfectly folded golden crepes. Turkey makes a decent filling, especially useful with Thanksgiving leftovers and roasted vegetables with mushrooms can pass as edible. Traditionally served with sour cream, apple or cranberry sauce, though also excellent plain, I argue there is no finer dish.

Nac Rita Atkal (Come Back Tomorrow or Latvian Pancakes)
About 25 pancakes
Crepe:
1-1/4 cups flour
1/2 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon salt
8 eggs
1 cup whole milk
1/2 cup water
1/4 cup melted butter

In a medium-sized bowl, sift together dry ingredients. Create a moat in the middle, add remaining ingredients. Whisk together, smoothing out lumps. Refrigerate at least 2 hours, ideally 8 hours minimum. Note: If batter gets too thick, thin lightly with water.

Warm a dollop of butter on a 9-inch skillet over medium heat. Ladle in the batter, tipping the pan quickly to spread evenly, paper-thin. Brown one side golden, 2 to 3 minutes, then flip onto a plate. Continue with remaining batter.

Filling:
3-1/2 cups roasted beef (recommended: leftover brisket), roughly chopped
1/2 cup roasted mushrooms, chopped
1/2 cup chicken or beef stock
1/4 cup chopped onions, sautéed golden
1/4 cup sour cream (or 1/2 sour cream 1/2 gravy)
salt, to taste

Working in batches, pulse all ingredients in a food processor until chopped to the consistency of wet ground beef. Add salt if needed.

Working with the crepes golden (cooked) side up, place two heaping tablespoons in the center. Fold the bottom up over the filling, then the top down, then sides, forming a small tight, square pocket. (The uncooked side of the crepe acts like a glue to hold crepes together lightly.) Transfer seam-side down to a plate. Repeat until all crepes are filled.

Return the skillet to medium-high heat, warming a large dollop of butter. Place a layer of stuffed pancakes seam down. Cook 3 minutes until golden, turn and cook another 2-3 minutes. Transfer to a plate, continuing to cook assembled pancakes.

Serve with sour cream, apple and/ or cranberry sauce.

We’re at the peak of fall here in New York City and it hardly seems to be showing. While the trees are brilliant golds, mums are popping open, and bulbs are heading into the ground, the sun is blasting down and the days are mild in the upper 50’s and 60’s. I thought I lived on the east coast, not west.

I await a steady stream of cool, crisp fall days– Fall is my favorite season and there is nothing like cuddling up to a bowl of hot soup on a cold night, or a nice hot toddy. And as we sit practically beach side in the City, northern New York and the surrounds have already seen snow. These truly cold temps around the City bring fall produce into farmer markets and my CSA drops, even if it’s the last thing on our mind.
So now I have a pileup of butternut and acorn squashes awaiting temperatures to dip low enough to justify turning the oven on for extended lengths. And as I thought about those squash the other day, I thought about potatoes and home fries and hash, and how sweetly seductive a butternut hash might be with a morning egg.

Peeled, seeded and chopped into 1/2-inch cubes, squash will cook up in less time than the same sized potatoes on the stove top. Left alone, those sauteed squash can top salads, get mashed for sides, or, turned into cookies or pies– Or, as above, mixed into a sweet and savory hash to accompany an egg.

Squash Hash
Serving size= 4 persons. Prep time= 15 minutes. Cook time= 15 minutes
1 butternut squash (acorn, sunshine, delicata, or other winter squash will work), Peeled, halved, seeds removed, slice into 1/2-inch cubes
1 cup crimini mushrooms, quartered
2 red peppers, sliced into long 1/2-inch strips
2 tablespoons fresh chives (or 1 scallion), minced
salt/ pepper to taste
2 tablespoons lard, olive oil or butter to cook

Method: Heat preferred fat in skillet over medium-high heat. Add squash and mushrooms, toss to coat in fat, then let cook for 5 minutes to brown. Add red peppers and a pinch of salt. Stir and cook about 8 minutes, stirring occasionally, until squash is soft and mushrooms are browned. Remove from heat, add pepper to taste and chives. Toss to coat and serve.

For months D and I have been eating our way through beets. About eight pounds every three weeks for four months. As D proclaimed time and again, “there are only so many beets a person can take.” That person is obviously not me. Still, it is true there are only so many pounds of beets a single person can consume when her partner in eating has sworn them off. After a recent Passover dinner I managed to squeeze a variation of this salad on the menu. D sleeps content knowing the beets are exorcised from the refrigerator.

While I know these storage babies would keep another few months in the fridge, I also know once Community Supported Agriculture season hits us June 5, we’ll be finding a home for more blushing beauties. (Note to D: Prepare yourself.)

Over the months, to hide the offensive vegetable from D, I was able to work them into pizza, gnocchi, ravioli (beet-blue cheese filling tucked into whole wheat orange zested pasta), chocolate cake, soups (of course a borscht as well) and even pickled them for holiday gifts handed off to D’s father, who shares my love of beets. I contemplated ice cream most recently, but bowed out of that thought when all the fresh mint began hitting my senses.

Over months of experimentation, the above salad was one application where I managed to get D to enjoy his beets without sausage, pesto or chocolate poured on top. It is a favorite dish of mine because it doesn’t involve a multi-step process with the beets, just roast, slice and chill.

This salad is a colorful reminder that Spring is here, a bounty of vegetables await us, but we can make do with our storage supplies until Mother Nature decides to kick in. I think it is best with a little crumbled cheese, feta or goat, tossed into it. For Passover I made due without the cheese, substituting a tahini-citrus dressing for creaminess, also good. A number of herbs work equally well depending on taste, what is around or what you are serving this with: cilantro, purslane, parsely, celery tops or basil.

Beet and Orange Herb Salad
Serving Size= 4 persons. Cook time= 1.5 hours. Active time= 15 minutes.
4 good sized beets (a little smaller than a fist), golden or red
2-3 navel oranges (grapefruit, clementines or tangerines would work too)
1/4 cup crumbled feta or goat cheese
1/2 cup packed mint, chopped
2 teaspoons fresh ground cardamom
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon pepper
juice of 1 lemon
2 tablespoons olive oil

1) Preheat oven to 350 F. Scrub beets under running water, remove greens, reserve for another use. Place beets on a pan over a large sheet of tinfoil. Sprinkle beets with olive oil, salt and pepper. Wrap the beets in foil, bake 45 minutes, turn, bake another 45 minutes or until a fork punctures both sides easily. Remove from oven, unwrap and let cool 5 minutes. Using two paper towels, work the the skins off the beets by pushing and sliding the paper towels around, starting at the tops and working around the beets. Slice beets into bite size pieces, about 1 inch long by 1/2 inch thick. Refrigerate while prepping the remaining ingredients.
2) Slice top and bottoms off oranges. Lay oranges flat then work around the orange slicing off the skin. Slice into bite size pieces, about the same size as the beets. Place in serving dish.
3) Add cheese, mint, cardamom, salt, pepper, lemon juice and olive oil to oranges. Toss to incorporate. Add beets and toss briefly to just incorporate trying not to let too much of the beets bleed into the oranges or cheese. Serve at room temperature or slightly chilled.
NOTE: Try a variety of other herbs. Instead of cheese, add 2 tablespoons tahini. Add croutons to make the dish a light dinner or lunch.

There are few things that remind me of the marvelous gifts of winter. Simply that a little bivalve can bring so much happiness. Or best yet, something that can make me believe I am sitting in front of my very own fireplace, in a cozy cabin, on a precipice overlooking a spraying bay. A bowl of chowder accomplishes all these things and more.

Clam chowder. Not that poor excuse of a chowder– the thin Manhattan tomato-based variety. Thick and creamy New England style, loaded with clams and root vegetables. The bounty of winter in a single bowl.

Clam chowder is a soup that makes me feel like a fisherman. Each time I finish a bowl it’s with an affirmative “arrrr, maty, t’was mighty fine gruel.” I smack the lingering ocean brine from my lips as I sadly realize no parrot sits on my shoulder, and I am simply in my New York City apartment (perhaps I believe I am a pirate?).

Oh you wicked tease clam chowder.

The best chowder I ever ate was along the New Jersey coast. I’m sure the late fall frigid temperatures played a part in its greatness. Or maybe because it was the only eating destination open. Possibly it was the giant yellow whale engraved against the blue hut that sold it. But there were four of us in total, taking a cold road trip to the shore for some R&R on the abandoned coast. That was good chowder.

The above chowder might be just as good. It smells of warm cream and ocean water and sticks to the bones just right on these wintry afternoons. It is not as heavy as other clam chowders you find. To thicken the broth and add some extra flavor, I added a puree of roasted root vegetables along with a scant 2 pints of heavy cream (2 pints is scant when you make a 20-quart pot of chowder). I also used a combination of smaller littleneck clams and larger cherrystones that were removed from their shells and chopped into the soup. I’ve adapted the recipe below to a simpler cherrystone-only version. Additionally, I had leftover lobster stock (frozen from mine and D’s Valentine’s lobster feast) that I used as stock. Any fish stock or a bottle of clam juice will work equally well.

New England Clam Chowder
Serving size= 6-8. Active time= 20 minutes. Inactive time= 30 minutes.
1 dozen cherrystone clams
2 strips bacon, chopped
1 onion, chopped
6 cloves garlic, minced
1 lb assorted root vegetables (potatoes, rutabaga, parsnips, carrots, turnips all work well), cut into 1 inch pieces
1 sprig thyme
2 8-ounce bottles clam juice (or a fish stock, 8 cups total)
2 cups water
1 pint heavy cream

1) Soak clams in lightly salted water for 30-60 minutes. This helps them spit out trapped sand from their shells.
2) In a 6-quart pot, bring 2 cups of lightly salted water to a boil. Add clams and cover, cook 2 minutes. Stir, cover and cook 2-3 minutes more, until all clams have opened up. Set clams aside and toss any clams that do not open. Strain the cooking liquid and set aside.
3) In the same pot (now without liquid), fry chopped bacon on medium-high heat until crisp. Remove from pot and set aside. Do not drain fat. Add chopped onion, saute 3 minutes. Add garlic, saute 1 minute more. Add chopped root vegetables, thyme sprig, bottled clam juice, retained clam juice cooking liquid and water. Cover, bring to a boil then reduce heat to a simmer and cook for 30 minutes, until root vegetables are soft.
4) While warming, remove clams from shells and chop roughly.
5) Once vegetables are soft, add heavy cream and stir to incorporate. Just before serving, stir in clams and bacon, season with salt and pepper and serve.

Here again, is that lovely beet gnocchi. Its magenta hue is so stunning that in any application, it creates a dish worth discussing. This dish looks like all the care in the world went into making it, but it is really, well, it’s as simple as making gnocchi (which really is too simple for something so delicious). When I mention it, peoples’ eyes light up, Oh, really?! Will you bring some over?

Sorry to say, it has all deliciously departed. We had the gnocchi as shown above, with a simple grating of Parmesan and cardamom, and tossed gently with olive oil, salt and pepper. I can also imagine tossing these in an olive tapenade, an herbed pesto, or with a medley of colorful summer squash.

The beet brings out a wonderful earthiness in the dish that really deserves highlighting. Of all the dishes, this was my favorite. The mushrooms, cooked down in rosemary, added a great forest bramble quality to the dish. The goat cheese added a grassy compliment. Together, this dish was like the marriage of forest and pastoral life.

The sauce can easily be replicated for any pasta dish, but I think really, a colored pasta will highlight it best– which is great because there are many on the market. (Although you will be hard pressed to find any as fabulously pink as the beet.)

Beet Gnocchi with Goat Cheese Mushroom Sauce
Serving size= 4 persons. Active time=8 minutes. Cook time= 20 minutes.
1 medium sized white onion
5-6 cloves garlic
1 quart button mushrooms (mixture, or favorite work too)
1 tablespoon fresh chopped rosemary
4 ounces goat cheese
1 pint heavy cream
4 servings beet gnocchi or pasta1) Put salted water on high heat and bring to a boil. While warming, in a large skillet set over medium-high heat, heat 2 tablespoons olive oil.
2) Add onion and saute 3 minutes. Add garlic and mushrooms, saute 10 minutes, until mushrooms brown, release liquid and reduce slightly. Add rosemary and a pinch of salt, allow flavors to emerge.
3) Cook pasta. Gnocchi just takes a few minutes and is ready when it begins to float on the surface.
4) Add goat cheese and heavy cream to the mushrooms. Stir to warm and break down goat cheese. When just boiling, turn heat to medium-low and keep warm until pasta is ready. Serve.

What is with me and beets? You ask.
What is this recent obsession with using them in strange applications? You wonder.
An early start on Valentine’s Day?

I wanted pink pasta. No, truthfully I am still looking to use up my beets in interesting ways. I have eaten them plain, braised, pickled, in chocolate cake, and now beets have fallen into gnocchi. I really wanted to utilize that unique coloring that I love into something that would be truly fabulous. I think this takes the cake. How fabulous they are, both taste and visually. Look at them! Lovely magenta dumplings! So bold on a plate, screaming to say, look at me at eat me!

With my new food mill a willing collaborator, I had to give these babies a try.

Step back. Food mill?

I know, it sounds very old fashion, right? Even D was a doubter (and now newly converted). For months I have been looking into purchasing a new potato masher. No joke, months. I take my kitchen purchases very seriously. I have been using an old pastry blender with wires that just don’t stick in place. (Poorly constructed.)

Debating between hand-held mashers, I could not bring myself to make the buy. Not enough uses for a single instrument that can cost a good deal for the style I wanted. Potato ricers are great, but they ultimately feel like giant garlic presses to me (they also do a lousy job pushing celeriac through I recently found out borrowing a friend’s). So after much contemplation I went with a food mill. Good not only for mashing or ricing potatoes, but will bring sauces and soups smooth, make applesauce, and somewhere down the road can make baby food or grandparent food (zing!).

So with my new food mill I pushed potatoes and beets through and out came what D exclaimed as the “Sweeney Todd Special.” Pot pies anyone? I am ecstatic I have this instrument.
Really, the beet in this recipe is so faint it is difficult to detect. Another great way to slip beets to the haters. I also think it’s a great way to get kids interested in vegetables. Forget slipping it into their food, how about letting them make pink pasta, black pasta (with sepia), brown (chocolate), you get it. I had fun, I’m sure a child would have even more. (And how rewarding to make something delicious the whole family can enjoy).

This recipe made a good deal of gnocchi, enough for two portions and plenty to freeze for later. The best part of gnocchi is that once it’s frozen, it just takes an extra minute or so in boiling water to bring to temperature. Easy, delicious and easy on the eyes. Make the beets a day before to cut some time off.

To make regular gnocchi, just remove the beets from the process and reduce the flour amount (or follow this link). Beets have so much moisture that a good amount of flour is needed to counteract the stickiness of the dough Alternatively, I could have used less beet, but I love how this gnocchi radiates (really, sort of radioactive).

Beet Gnocchi
Serving Size= 8-10 portions
Special equipment: box grater, potato ricer or food mill
2 large (I used 8 small) russet potatoes
2-3 beets
2-3 cups flour
2 eggs
2 teaspoons salt
pepper to taste

1) Snip greens from beets and boil until soft, 30-45 minutes. Remove skin under cold running water, set aside. Boil whole potatoes, skin on, until soft (do not puncture initially with fork). Work carefully and quickly with two towels to slip potato skin off (you want to rice the potatoes while still warm).
2) Working in batches, place potatoes and beets through the ricer and spread gratings over a cookie sheet to dry out as you work.
3) Create a mound with the potato and beet shavings. Add the flour, salt and pepper to the center and create a moat, cracking the eggs inside. Work and knead the dough together, adding more flour as necessary, until dough is no longer sticking to fingers. (As D said, until it looks like a giant pancreas, see photo left).
4) Working in batches on a lightly floured surface, roll the dough into snakes a little thicker than the width of your thumb. Slice into 1-inch pieces. Finish shaping on a lightly floured cutting board and imprint with a fork (this helps hold the sauce and cook more evenly). Assemble, slightly apart, on a cookie sheet and freeze if saving some for later use (this keeps the gnocchi from forming one giant gnocchi). Transfer to freezer bag once frozen through.
To Cook: Boil salted water. Add gnocchi and cook 3-4 minutes, until gnocchi float to top, remove with slotted spoon.
Note: Use your gnocchi just like regular pasta, though in my opinion, stay away from tomato based sauces as this will just be a large bowl of reds. Light olive oil and Parmesan, cream sauces or pesto, work very nicely with these. More in the days to come.

Happy New Year!Please take notice (some of you already have) that things have changed around Just Braise. I’ve implemented a new, cleaner design. I believe the new look not only displays my dishes more deliciously, but has a soothing feel that aids in digestion (much more so than the old blue/ orange harshness of last year)!

With every New Year we are asked to make Resolutions. I am sort of sick of the usual “lose weight,” ones that really just prep a person for the beach and allow the weight roller coaster to start up again in the fall. Really, do people still make these sorts resolutions or is it the media onslaught of fat trimming pills to pop come the New Year (has anyone else noticed these all over TV?!) that make us think everyone is making them. While I do think overall lifestyle changes are healthy, they should not be a New Year makeover.

Here are my “Resolutions”: Eat more food that is better for the environment, as well as the people that bring my food to my table (farmers and workers alike). To become better educated on where my food comes from, what is inside (packaging labels as well as gene splice) and the global impact my food choices have on us all. On a broader scale, I hope that more people have access to better food choices, more reasonably priced pesticide-free foods, hear less lies about GMOs, and increase worker rights on farms and in factories. Maybe these are not all resolutions, but simple hopes for the New Year.

As for the picture in this post…

D and I ate a lot of kale back in ‘07. I had never really considered the leafy green before. Like most people, I stuck with what was easy. Simply, more often than not, with what I knew. Sure I ventured out and bought new things here and there (much to D’s initial horror) because finding new delicious foods is always a positive.

But my local groceries don’t really carry much kale, which is unusual– it’s a New York food staple. It is so easy to grow, and more importantly, it is so healthy. Seriously, there is so much good information about kale it’s almost like the new chicken soup (see here, here, and here)! There are even whole blogs waxing poetic on kale (see here and here).

As a member of my local CSA I received a lot of kale. I’m talking every week. Initially, I chopped raw kale super fine and tossed it into salads. Mixed in with all the other vegetables it just became another complex, earthly flavor in those salads. Growing tired of that, I threw every bunch into omelettes. Sure, not very exciting, but now I was cooking the kale– One giant kale omelette after another. As the season tapered on and I realized I grew tired of my kale omelettes, I experimented with other methods.

While some folks in the CSA juiced their kale (adding in peaches, apple juice and more), some made kale pesto, others threw it into soups. I thought these methods, more often than not, covered up that great subtle bitterness I had come to love in the vegetable. So I thought, hey, it looks sort of like lettuce, and voila, the kale sandwich.

This method was so good D and I started making it nightly. We grabbed for extra kale at distribution (no joke) and when we ran out of kale, used other bitter greens (cabbage, broccoli rabe, collards). Still, our favorite green was kale. I added a creamy goat cheese to play with the earthy qualities of kale and come Thanksgiving, I made this sandwich for D’s sisters who ate it up– “that was kale?!” (Note that D’s sisters were subjected to kale salad earlier in the season and were not so into it, though the kale omelette did win hearts).

D and I eat these sandwiches open-faced and find them quite filling. You can cut these sandwiches into bite sized appetizer noshes and serve them at a party. If you have no bread, use crackers. If you don’t like goat cheese, use swiss, a smoky gouda, or whatever you find works best for you.

As for the celeriac chips. Need I remind folks that fried things are delicious? Celeriac, or celery root, is a variety of celery grown as a root vegetable. It sort of looks like a crushed brain when you buy it, but smells and tastes slightly, of celery. Just peel the skin and use it as you like. It’s great raw, as a soup, folded into mashed potatoes, or in this application, fried! Simply slice it thin, fry it 3-4 minutes in hot oil, drain on a towel and sprinkle with salt.

Kale Salami Sandwich
Active time= 10 minutes.
1 tablespoon butter or olive oil
1 bunch kale
2 slices good bread (I like to use sourdough)
2 tablespoons goat cheese
salami

1) Warm the butter or olive oil in a skillet on medium heat. Roll kale like cigars and slice into thin strips. Add kale into the skillet, coat with butter and cover.
2) Toast bread. Spread each with goat cheese.
3) Stir kale, when it has turned a deep green, add on top of cheese. Add a few slices of salami.

I know, I know, more soup?! This one is almost entirely leftovers and maybe something you can make with those holiday leftovers of your own.

Soup is a great excuse to get rid of leftovers, as a way to move through vegetables before they go bad, as a quick fix when you don’t want to cook, when sick, for an easy work lunch, and more. It’s just so easy to make a big batch of soup and freeze it away for a cold day.

Our freezer is stockpiled with all sorts of soups: carrot ginger, coconut pumpkin, cauliflower and so many subtle variations of these I often don’t see a reason to post them (like butternut sage, broccoli or carrot parsnip). I recently started labeling the containers with masking tape, marking soup type and date made. It sounds totally neurotic, but when you have two single serving sizes and carrot ginger looks a lot like carrot parsnip, it makes a difference.

The best part of making soup is that it is so cheap to make a filling and delicious meal. I have many friends who purchase soups at stores or restaurants for lunch or dinner and I just have to laugh. I have one friend who calls local restaurants asking each one what kinds of soups they have until he finds one he likes. In the 30-45 minutes it took him to make those calls he could have made his own soup! I know, not everyone thinks he has the time to make soup (really, just 30 minutes), but when you’re dropping $6 or more for a small bowl of soup and know it really only costs about $10 for a 16-serving pot you would laugh too.

I should go into the soup business.

I made the above soup with Thanksgiving leftovers and froze it immediately because I could not eat another bite of turkey. I de-thawed it today for a quick lunch and thought it can just as easily be made with Christmas leftovers. (Especially easy if you served a turkey or chicken and still have the carcass to make a rich stock.) The kale was leftover from another dish, but can just as easily be leftover green beans, broccoli, spinach or Brussels sprouts. The broth looks so creamy because it is enhanced with leftover mashed potatoes. The overall result is a delicious soup that brings holiday cheer back to a bowl.

Tuscan Kale & Bean Soup
Serving Size= 8 servings. Prep/cook time= 20 minutes. Inactive time= 15 minutes.
3 tablespoons olive oil or butter
1 leek or yellow onion
4-6 cloves garlic
2 tablespoons parsley (or combination of aromatics like sage, rosemary, basil, oregano)
1 bay leaf
1 tablespoon salt
1 bunch, 2-3 cups packed, Tuscan kale (also called dinosaur kale or any leftover green vegetables)
4 roma tomatoes (optional) (can substitute 1 4 ounce can tomato paste)
1 can kidney beans, washed and drained
1 can butter beans, washed and drained
5 cups chicken or turkey broth and meat (if any is leftover), can substitute low-sodium boxed stock
leftover mashed potatoes (optional) can substitute heavy cream if desired

1) Warm olive oil in a stock pot on the stove top over medium-high heat. Slice onion thinly and add to pot. Saute 3-4 minutes. While warming, smash and chop garlic. Add to pot and saute 2 minutes more. Add dried parsley, bay leaf and salt.
2) Role 3-4 kale leaves at a time into cylinders and slice into 1/4 inch strips. Continue until all kale, including stems, are cut. Add to pot, saute until darkened and slightly wilted, 5 minutes.
3) Roughly chop tomatoes and add to pot along with washed and drained beans. Stir to incorporate.
4) Add broth and mashed potatoes. Stir to break potatoes into broth. Add water if too thick. Cover and bring contents to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer 10 minutes. Taste and season with salt/ pepper if needed. Serve with good crusty bread.

Want more soup recipes? Check out my most recent article in The Queens Chronicle, Brave the Winter Cold with Soup.

This is a soup for people who think they cannot make soup. It is also the soup for people who think they do not like cauliflower. This time of year, with its super dose of vitamin C, cauliflower is something you want to be eating to keep healthy.

The cauliflower base is so simple and the add-ons are endless. In this soup, I paired the base with a slightly unusual combination of beets and a sprinkle of nutmeg. The result is a surprisingly savory combination that looks fabulously festive. Together, it makes a great meal with some crusty bread, or a beautifully simple holiday starter. The best part is that it is so easy to put together, feeding yourself something healthy becomes one less thing to worry about.

Cauliflower Soup
Serving Size= 4-6 persons. Active time= 10 minutes. Inactive time=50 minutes (with beet)
2 medium-sized beets (optional)
1 head cauliflower
1/4 cup cream
2 teaspoons nutmeg
salt/ pepper to taste
parsley for garnish

1) Wash beets under cold water and slice greens off, leaving 1 inch attached to beet bulb (reserve beet greens for another use). Place whole beets in boiling salted water for 30-40 minutes, until a fork pierces beets easily. Under cold water, push the skin off the beet, if it is ready, it will fall off easily. Set aside.
2) In a medium-sized sauce pot, bring 4 cups fresh salted water to a boil. Wash cauliflower and slice off florets in 2-3 inch pieces. Cut any white stems into 2-3 inch pieces. Add cauliflower and stems to boiling water. Boil 4 minutes, until cauliflower is soft.
3) Use a slotted spoon to transfer cauliflower to a blender, filling the blender 3/4 full (you may have to blend in two rounds). Slowly add cauliflower cooking water to the blender, bringing it to half the level of the cauliflower. Add cream and nutmeg, blend until smooth. Taste and season with salt and pepper to taste.
4) Transfer to serving bowls. Drizzle with olive oil and add a dash of nutmeg. Slice beet if using and sprinkle over top along with chopped parsley.

A little less talking and a little more cooking, eh?

Feast your eyes on the image above. Very fresh looking, right? This meal was so good I could stare at this photo to remember it all year. I won’t bore you with nothing while I drool, so let us continue.

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A few weeks back I ordered a slab of pork belly from one of the farmers associated with my Community Supported Agriculture program. The pork these folks raise is tremendous. D and I always stuck with the pork chops, frankly because they are fast and easy. Truly, I cannot remember when I have had such delicious pork. Always juicy and full of flavor, it is what pork should be. So I finally ventured into the realm of belly.

D and I had the opportunity to visit this farm over the summer. It was fabulous to see not only our pigs, but also our cattle (they also raise grass-fed beef) in action, knowing what we purchase is actually what we are told. (Rather than “free-range”– what does that really mean?!) It is also an amazing opportunity to not only speak to the person who raises your food, but see their practices. Admittedly, to see these animals and think, “I’m going to eat you next month!” is sort of twisted in our modern detachment of food systems. (Going to our CSA’s vegetable farm and noting all the vegetables soon to enter my belly was much more hilarious.)

Our gracious host had us safely in her car as we careened around the 400 plus acreage, showing off vista points, watering holes and different grasses the cattle eat. Next stop was the pig field for feeding time. As we opened the second floor to the barn we saw the pigs in the distance, racing as a seemingly wild pack out of the distant trees for their feed. “They eat a lot of grub and whatever they find in the woods,” N explained, “but we give them a little more protein and grain as supplement.”

With that, she dropped a bucket of grain from the second floor, crashing on and around the pigs, who well, went hog wild pigging out. Piglets were shoved to the outer circle picking at scraps while the more assertive animals took center stage. Once feeding had subsided the pigs headed off to a small pond to retreat in the cooling waters, “Miami Beach,” N noted.

Back to the belly of the matter…

Pork belly comes from the same cut as bacon, though bacon has been smoked or cured. Pork belly is fresh, uncured meat, just as fatty good as bacon. (Mmmm, bacon.) The cut is ideal for braising. The technique leaves the skin crisp, fat oozing and the flesh velvety soft. If you can manage all three in one bite, try not to fall out of your chair as you swoon.

For this cut I adapted a spice rub I found online and braised it about 4 hours. The pork was served as an appetizer at a dinner party that was picked at throughout the night. I was lucky enough to stash away a few pieces for lunch the next day, bulked up as you see it, with rice, pickled daikon radish, fresh carrots, scallions and cilantro. The result? Really, a picture says a thousand words. I’ll just say one more: divine.

I made the daikon radish a day prior to the dinner party. The pickled radish played the perfect part to accent the pork’s flavor and cut through the fat. The only problem? Pickled daikon radish has a horrendous smell. Think men’s used gym socks. But, like many other things that can produce a horrific funk (think some wines), once you overcome your initial fear you’ll be glad you took the plunge.

Do not be daunted by these recipes. They are simple to make and most of the involvement is inactive time. It is a fabulous dish to make on a weekend lounging around the home.

Pickled Daikon Radish
Adapted from epicurious
Serving Size= About 1 radish per 3 persons. Active time= 8 minutes. Inactive time= 24 hours.
daikon radish
equal parts plain white vinegar and sugar
1/4 part salt

1) Julienne the daikon radish (cut into matchstick thin slices) and place in a non-reactive container.
2) Add equal parts white vinegar and sugar until just covered, add 1/4 the amount of salt (to the vinegar quantity).
3) Mix, cover and refrigerate for at least 24 hours before serving.

Braised Pork Belly
Adapted from Dan Barber
Serving Size= 6 persons. Active time= 10 minutes. Inactive time= 8 hours.
1 -3 pound pork belly
4 cups chicken stock or water
2 cups cure mix:
1/4 cup fennel seeds
1/4 cup cumin seeds
1/4 cup ground coriander
1 tablespoon fresh ground black pepper
2 tablespoons ground cinnamon
2 teaspoons whole cloves
1 cup salt
2/3 cup sugar

1) Make cure mix, using fresh whole seeds and grinding, if possible.
2) Rub mix all over pork belly, cover and refrigerate 4 hours.
3) Preheat oven to 250F. Remove pork belly, rinse the cure mix off lightly, place pork in pan and pour in chicken stock, without fully covering the pork. Cook for 4-5 hours.
4) Remove from braising pan, drain, slice and serve.

To Finish the Dish as Above
Serving size= 2 persons. Active time= 10 minutes. Inactive time=30 minutes plus pork belly
1/2 cup uncooked rice, white or brown (I used Basmati)
1 carrot, sliced into matchstick slices
1/4 cup cilantro, chopped
1 scallion, thinly sliced
pickled daikon radish
red chili flakes
pork belly

1) In the last half hour of cooking, make rice and prepare vegetables.
2) Assemble rice on plates, add sliced pork belly over top, a scoop of pickled daikon radish. Divide carrots, scallions and cilantro sprinkled over top. Finish with a pinch of red chili flakes.