Happy Cow Pot Roast

At 6:30 this morning, I suddenly realized that I had a culinary crisis on my hands (good heavens! not that!) I had defrosted a beautiful braising cut of beef in the fridge and if I did not do something with it immediately (i.e., before I went to work) I wouldn't have a chance to cook it before it went bad. Much as my body was begging me to hit the snooze one more time, the motivation of not wasting this cut of meat was enough to get me going to the kitchen. Twenty minutes of prep later, I had the crock pot going and I was getting ready for work. Let me tell you, at 8 tonight when I finally rolled in the door, I was pretty happy I had put in the extra work this morning.

Before recently I didn't spend too much time thinking about where the beef came from. Pot roast, like any other comfort food, should be cheap and relatively easy. My mantra had always been that you want the cheapest cut of meat you can get if you are going to braise something. The more connective tissue to break down and create the body of the sauce, the better. All that tissue breaking down leaves the piece of meat tender and tasty. And I'm still right about this, to some degree. Now I am going to suggest that you buy the cheapest cut of meat you can get, as long as it comes from a happy cow. After watching this movie and reading this article and reading this book, I became convinced that life is just too short for eating industrial food. Even if you don't want to read/watch these, take my word for it: buy organic, grass-fed, happy beef. It is tasty, better for you, and carries much less risk.

I got this cut of beef (an arm roast, actually, further down the limb of the cow from the chuck roast) from a wonderful new shop in Williamsville, NY called Farmers & Artisans. It is in the old Sweet Jenny's building, for those who know the neighborhood. They feature local and regional foods, have an on-site bakery, and are a year-round source for the kind of things we usually only find at the farmers market during the summer. This should also be a go-to place for New York State artisanal cheeses.

Farmers & Artisans got their hands on some Amish grass-fed beef that is simply wonderful. These cows ate what they were supposed to eat: grass. It is flavorful but not gamey. I highly recommend going out to raid their freezer and treating yourself to a good comfort food meal one of these nights.


Pot Roast with Roasted Vegetables

Roast
3 pound braising cut of beef (chuck roast, arm roast, etc.)
1 medium onion, coarsely chopped
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 cup red wine
1 12oz can tomato sauce
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
2 bay leaves
1/2 cup beef stock

Add a tablespoon of olive oil to a medium fry pan over medium-high heat. Brown all sides of the beef, taking about 3 minutes per side. Remove beef and place in slow cooker.

In the same pan, lower the heat to medium and saute the onion until tender but not brown. Add the garlic and cook until fragrant, about 2 minutes. Add these ingredients to the slow cooker.

Deglaze the pan with the red wine and pour over the beef in the slow cooker. Add the remaining ingredients to the cooker, cover, and cook on low for 7-8 hours.


Roasted Vegetables*

3 carrots, scrubbed
3 parsnips, peeled
2 small turnips, peeled
3 potatoes, scrubbed

Cut all vegetables into 1 inch pieces. Toss with olive oil, salt, and pepper and place in a single layer in a baking dish. Roast at 400F until browned on the outside and fork-tender, about 50 minutes.

(serves 8)


*Go crazy with this. You could add celeriac, rutabaga, beets, fennel bulb, squash, sweet potatoes, or any number of other things to this mixture. I'm just telling you what we did for dinner tonight, but use your imagination and the ingredients that you like for this.

Squash Ravioli with Sage Browned Butter

I had a culinary triumph this weekend.

There are several items in the food world that have always intimidated me. I have generally tried them, failed, and then spent (wasted) much time trying to not make them again. Pizza crust is one of these things. So is bread. I overcame that one not too long ago. The most recent is fresh pasta.

Is it just me, or am I intimidated by Italian carbohydrates?

Anyway, out of the middle of nowhere, I decided it was high time I conquered fresh pasta. I actually didn't conquer it so much as I nicely sidled up to it, got affectionate, and made a new friend. It did not make sense to me to put a whole lot of effort into making regular old spaghetti. If I was going to do this, it had to be worthwhile. I had a nice big batch of leftover squash and a big sage plant in my garden. I decided on rustic looking squash ravioli.

This was absolutely divine. The browned butter makes all the difference. I made the first batch on Saturday and we just melted the butter with the sage. On Sunday night, I browned the butter with the sage in it. The toasted milk solids in the browned butter were wonderful and the sage was fried to a marvelous crisp.

If you are not compelled to bust out your pasta maker any time soon, consider picking up some wonton wrappers in the produce section of the grocery store. They will be a little thin, but should do the job nicely. Even if you don't make ravioli at all, brown some butter with a good handful of sage in it. You won't be sorry.


Squash Ravioli with Sage Browned Butter

Squash
1 winter squash (butternut, buttercup, acorn, etc.) - about 2 cups of flesh
2 teaspoons cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground corriander
3 Tablespoons orange juice
3 Tablespoons brown sugar
salt to taste

Roast the squash whole in the oven at 325 F until tender. Cut in half, remove and discard seeds and membranes. Scoop flesh into a small bowl. Add remaining ingredients and mix well to combine. Allow to cool fully.

Pasta
4 eggs
500 grams all-purpose flour (about 3-1/2 to 4 cups, depending on humidity)
1 egg, lightly beaten for wash

Place flour in a bowl, make a well in the center and add the 4 eggs. Begin to combine the eggs and the flour with your hand, gradually incorporating more flour until you have a very firm dough. The dough should not be at all sticky. Pour this out onto the counter or kneading board. Knead the dough until it is completely homogeneous, adding more flour as necessary.

When it is smooth and even, cut about 1/5 of the mixture off and cover the rest of the dough with plastic wrap. Roll the small piece of dough through the widest setting on the pasta maker about 6 times, folding in half between each pass. Next, narrow the pasta maker one setting with each pass through the machine until next-to-last setting. The dough will not be quite transparent, but will be quite delicate.

Repeat this process with another piece of the dough so you have two very long sheets. Lay one sheet on the counter and brush completely with egg wash. In two long columns, dot about 1 Tablespoon of squash mixture every 3 inches or so. Lay the second sheet on top and, working carefully to line up the edges and remove air pockets, seal the two sheets together. Use a sharp knife or pastry cutter to cut between the ravioli. Lay flat on a floured surface. *

Sage Browned Butter
1 stick salted butter
4 Tablespoons fresh sage leaves

Place the butter in a small saucepan over medium heat to melt. Meanwhile, stack the sage leaves in a neat pile and slice very thinly crosswise to get short strips. Add the sage to the butter and cook until the butter separates and the solids become a toasted brown color. Remove from heat immediately.

Assembly
Boil a pot of water, cook the ravioli (4 per person for an appetizer) for about 4 minutes (5-6 minutes from frozen). Serve with about 1 Tablespoon of sage browned butter per person.

(This will make far more squash than you will need for the pasta. The pasta will serve about 12-16 as an appetizer or 6-8 as an entree. The sage browned butter will serve 8 as an appetizer)

* If you would like to freeze these (which works really well) do so pretty quickly. Freeze them on waxed or parchment paper in a single layer until solid, then pack carefully into a freezer-safe ziplock bag or storage container. Do not stack unless they are frozen; they will stick together and you will cry.

Grilled Asparagus

Just over two weeks ago, Mike had an accident on his bicycle and broke his collar bone. He hit the ground going 23 mph and is probably really lucky that the collar bone was the worst of it. He has been home and out of work for these past weeks and will be home for at least a couple more.

Somehow in these two weeks since the accident, I have managed to barely cook at all, yet we are generating unprecedented quantities of dirty dishes. I have no idea how that is possible, except that we are very well behaved about eating takeout Chinese or falafel or sushi on our ceramic plates, which then need to we washed. By me. Because Mike only has one arm at the moment.

The only thing that I have really managed to get onto dinner plates for the two of us is grilled asparagus, maybe because it is such a seasonal food, and not even my poor injured husband will keep me from fresh, local asparagus. From the time that I was little, asparagus has been one of our classic family foods. For other (perhaps more normal) families, it was peas or carrots. For us, it was asparagus and artichokes.

My parents still have the special white enameled pot with a stained interior that is used only for cooking asparagus. Oblong with a rack inside perfect for cradling the tender spears, the pot held just enough water to cover the asparagus. Half the rack broke about two decades ago and it was fixed with string, which is now also dyed the unique gray-green color of asparagus. The asparagus was boiled only until blanched bright green. These then were eaten with our fingers, as was the French custom passed down from my grandmother, tips dipped in ranch dressing, a more American interpretation, to be sure.

Somehow a few years ago, someone in the family got the idea to throw the asparagus on the grill instead. Rolled in a little bit of olive oil with chopped garlic and a generous pinch of salt, grilling gives these gorgeous veggies a deep nutty flavor that even asparagus haters are bound to love. Asparagus lovers will just have one more way to love asparagus. We have a full on mutiny if asparagus is prepared the old way now. Boiled asparagus requires an explanation, like torrential downpour, or blizzard, or too much other stuff on the grill. Our poor white enameled asparagus pot sits in the back of my parents’ cupboard, waiting for the day when it will be called into service again, but it isn’t looking too good.



Grilled Asparagus

The spears seem to shrink on the grill. Cook more than you think you will need. We are big veggie fans, and I cook about a pound for the two of us. In inclement weather, feel free to broil these about 4 inches from the heating element for about 5 minutes. Keep a close eye on them; they will burn before you know it.

1 pound asparagus spears, washed, ends trimmed*
2 cloves garlic, minced
1-2 Tablespoons olive oil
sprinkle sea salt

Place the asparagus in a one gallon zip-top plastic bag. Add garlic, olive oil, and sea salt and mix together well. This can sit for about an hour before you use it.

Preheat grill to medium-high. Immediately before you are ready to eat, place the asparagus on the grill perpendicular to the grates, so the spears don’t fall through.** Grill until tender and has good grill marks.

(Serves 2-3)


* Trimming should be done carefully and by hand. Break off the end as close to the bottom as you can. It will naturally break at the right point, leaving the tender part for you to eat and the woody end for the compost (or the dogs, in my parents’ case!)

** You can use a veggie rack for this, but I find it unnecessary

Catching up with Spring

I'm running about two months behind where I was last year and I think the tomato seedlings are going to end up being just as leggy as they were when they went into the ground last year. Not to worry, though. I ended up with more tomatoes than we could possibly eat last year and I imagine we will again this summer. Except this time around I am growing five varieties of heirloom seeds. More on that as we get a bit closer to harvest; I don't want to jinx my little seedlings.

Part of the delay can be blamed on the company I ordered the seeds from, which took about eight weeks to get them to my door. That was a frustrating long wait, but once I got the seeds I planted them right away and even managed to not over-plant. The other reason I am running so late is my own (admirable, I'd argue) self-restraint. Last winter I had seeds in hand and was ready to begin gardening about a month after Christmas. I grew so many seedlings that I was still trying to give them away in mid-June. By the time August rolled around, I was so sick of gardening I didn't know what to do with myself.

This year I might have over-corrected a bit. Next year I'm thinking I need to split the difference, plant seedlings in mid-March and get a proper grow light so my little seedling buddies have a fighting chance.

This weekend we are planning to tear up most of the backyard, a task that Mike finds perfectly normal and I find slightly terrifying. The end result will be two beautiful raised beds for even more vegetable bounty.

Alas, my garden is not producing all that much yet. We have some of the perennial herbs coming up as well as some self-seeded arugula that went to seed already after last week's heat wave (but in the mean time provided a wonderful salad). This is the perfect time to take advantage of all that wonderful food we froze last summer. We still have a freezer-full, and while the garden isn't producing, we may as well eat our way to the bottom.

The better part of a pig is in there, most of which is simply labeled "pork roast". The packaging gives no indication at all as to which part of the pig this might come from or how it should be cooked. It seems that there is a lack of pork roast recipes out there anyway, so I went ahead and made up a recipe to use up these "roasts".


Roast Pork with Apricots, Currants and Onions

Mike and I have eaten this twice now and both times we have finished it before I had a chance to photograph it. It is a great combination of flavors that would probably go quite well with dark meat chicken as well. This is also an excellent way to take that slow cooker out for a final spin before putting it back in the cupboard for the summer.

1 pork roast, picnic shoulder or Boston butt (about 3-4 pounds)
1 large sweet onion (Vidalia or Texas 1015), sliced
6-8 whole cloves of garlic
1/3 cup dried apricots, chopped coarsely
1/4 cup dried currants
1 Tablespoon Dijon mustard or coarse country mustard
3/4 cup aromatic white wine*
1-1/2 teaspoons dried thyme

In a large skillet over medium-high heat, brown the meat, using a little olive oil if necessary. Rotate the meat to brown all sides, approximately 3 minutes on each side.

In a slow cooker, layer the onion on the bottom, add the garlic cloves, apricots and currants and place the browned roast on top.

In a small bowl, combine the wine and mustard and whisk to combine. Add this mixture to the slow cooker. Sprinkle with thyme.

Cook on the low setting for about 7 hours or until the meat is cooked completely and fork-tender.

(serves 4-6)

*I used a Muscat from Peller Estates in Niagara on the Lake for this recipe. It was a slightly sweet white wine. A good oakey Chardonnay would be wonderful in this. Be sure to use something you will want to drink since you will have most of the bottle left!

Garbanzo Cakes

Or “garbanzo burgers”. But I fear telling you this is a veggie burger, lest you start to conjure images of tofu “burgers” with grill marks painted on them. So I choose to call these cakes.

I am a huge fan of cake. Really any kind of cake, chocolate, vanilla, whatever. Call it by another name: gateau, torte, I’m still in. Even the good old savory cakes, like crab cakes or salmon cakes, get me every time. Get me in trouble, in fact. I blame cake for my pants being tight. That doesn’t make me love cake any less.

I find it appealing to have all the ingredients and flavors in an organized little package, yet not a fussy one. The best cakes out there aren’t the ones that look like works of art; they are the ones that look like cake, shaggy and home made, rich and delicious. In my family, cakes are also symbols of occasion. There was never a cake in our house when I was growing up unless there was a very good reason to celebrate, usually a birthday. Likewise, we weren’t making up crab cakes for Tuesday night dinner. They were a rare treat, reserved for visits to restaurants that had particular skill in the production of the perfect crab cake.

Trouble is, I’m tired of crab cakes. Not the really good ones (can one really get tired of the real thing? I think not.) I’m tired of seeing them on every menu and waiting until I’m a bit closer to the Chesapeake before I take a bite. Or on the rare occasion that I fall for it, spending a meal munching on a mediocre crab cake while plotting how to steal food from my neighbors’ plates.

It is not that we cannot produce a great crab cake in Western New York, it is that the crab cake has become too accessible. Everyone figures that they know how to make one, diners find it comforting and easy to order, and so we all meet at the lowest common denominator. As ubiquitous as the balsamic reduction, the crappy crab cake abounds.

I wanted to make a different kind of cake, one that mixes marvelous flavors together into a neat little gift. I narrowed down on the humble garbanzo bean. The chickpea or ceci bean, so often ignored in the corner of a salad bar or as the forgotten base of hummus, here is more reminiscent of its role as the shining star of falafel. The spices are different though, as is the texture. This flavor combination is one of my favorites: curry, green onion, a nut, and a fruit. Cilantro is optional (but highly recommended for brightness). I recently used this combination to make a curried quinoa dish. I’m telling you, the combo doesn’t fail so long as you balance the flavors.

Make these as highbrow little hors d’oeuvres with a delicate dot of sauce right on top – bite size garbanzo cakes with mango yogurt frosting. Or you can do what we did for a weeknight dinner: serve generous garbanzo burgers on toasted mini-pitas (just the right size!) with a good dollop of sauce. A veggie burger never tasted so good. Cake was never so good for you.


Garbanzo Cakes with Mango Yogurt

For the mango yogurt:
1/4 cup Major Grey chutney
1/4 cup plain Greek yogurt
1 Tablespoon chopped fresh cilantro

For the cakes:
8 oz canned garbanzo beans (or dried beans, cooked)
1 egg
1-1/2 teaspoons curry powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 scallion, chopped, both green and white parts
1/4 cup cashews (about 1 oz), chopped
1/4 cup panko (Japanese bread crumbs)
2 Tablespoons olive oil
4 mini (3 inch) pitas (optional)

Mix the chutney, yogurt and cilantro together in a small bowl. Set aside.

Mix garbanzo beans, egg, curry powder and salt in a medium bowl. Mash using a potato masher or the side of a fork. The mixture should not be smooth, but should be mashed enough to become moist and stick together. Add the cashews and panko and mix well.

Form the mixture into four patties with your hands to make burgers. If you are making small cakes, shape into 16 mini patties. If the mixture seems dry, mash a bit more until you have a paste that will stick together well.

Heat a non-stick skillet over medium-high heat. Add the oil and fry the patties until cooked through and golden brown on both sides.

Serve the patties on toasted pita with plenty of sauce or serve the mini cakes with a dot of sauce so they can be eaten without a lot of mess.

(Serves 4 for burgers, makes 16 hors d’oeuvres)

My Cooking Addiction

We had a few of Mike’s closest friends over to the house this weekend to celebrate his 33rd birthday. I love throwing parties and I use it as an excuse to try new recipes, cook things I would not normally eat, and generally make a wonderful, big, fun mess in the kitchen.

Mike knows this about me. And so, as a birthday present, he asked that I not cook anything for his birthday.

Nothing?

That’s right. Nothing.

I went off to Wegman's and picked out some dips and spreads, choosing a lemon hummus and baba ganouj from the olive bar. So far so good. I was being very well behaved. I picked up a couple different kinds of vegetables for crudités.

Suddenly I just couldn't help myself. Cheese plate? How boring. I’ll bake a brie and drizzle it with honey and pistachios (actually the pistachios were Mike’s addition, and a brilliant one, it turns out). Crackers? Sure, we can have some crackers, but I’ll whip up a batch of pita chips too.

The other thing that would be so good and is really, really easy is my roasted red pepper dip. I’ll just grab the ingredients and if I make it, great, if not, no big deal.

I was like an addict let loose surrounded by her vice. I can stop any time, I tell myself. All evidence to the contrary.

Probably good that I went ahead and got Mike that pea coat for his birthday since apparently I failed miserably at his “no-cooking night” treat. I did manage to have all the food out on time and the kitchen clean before my head hit the pillow, so all did turn out pretty well in the end.



Roasted Red Pepper Dip

This is so incredibly easy to make and tastes amazing. I have changed the recipe a number of times since I made it up about 10 years ago and I think that this version is the winner. Feel free to use low fat versions of the sour cream and cream cheese if you like. You shouldn't notice a difference.

12 oz sour cream
2 blocks of cream cheese (8 oz each) at room temperature
13 oz. jar roasted red peppers, drained
1/4 teaspoon salt

Combine the sour cream and cream cheese in a medium bowl. Mix well using electric beaters until smooth.

Finely chop the roasted red peppers. This can be done in a food processor, but be careful to pulse. The mixture should be chunky, not pureed. Using a fine sieve over the sink, strain the peppers for a minute or two to release excess liquid. Add the salt to the peppers and allow to dissolve for a minute before adding the peppers to the sour cream mixture.

Mix well and chill at least half an hour or up to three days before serving. Adjust salt to taste.

The New Year

I've been feeling a lot of pressure lately where this blog is concerned, not in the least because I am hearing from people about not writing enough (which I love hearing, by the way, don’t stop!) Most of the pressure, however, resides in the fact that I aspire to have each story and recipe be special, different or important. Fancy, even. I want each one to be appropriate to the season and to reflect what is healthy, yummy, and good to eat at the given time. I long since gave up trying to post a story without a recipe – I heard about that move for a long time.

In order to get over this stumbling block, I have decided to expose the other side of the coin: I give you some good, old fashioned, boring, everyday life from Savory and Sweet (i.e. my excuse for being absent).

Since about mid-December, Mike and I have rarely eaten a meal at home. We were incredibly lucky to have all of Mike’s family together for Christmas. Although my sister and her husband were missing from the mix, we still managed to have some merriment in my family’s house too. Mike and I worked through the whole holiday with just a couple days off, so post-work became family time just about every evening. Exciting family dinners, gorging on meals out, and much more alcohol than I am used to marked the holiday season. Not to mention my mother-in-law’s Christmas cookies and my mother’s pumpkin bread. So very, very good.

Immediately on the heels of the holiday, Mike and I came down with varying versions of the plague. Finally coming out the other side of it, I am longing for normalcy. I have never wanted so much to sit down in front of one of our weeknight staples and relax in our own house. Which is exactly what we have started doing.

A couple weeks ago, fortunately before the onset of the plagues, I was suddenly craving lentil soup. This is twice in one year, people. I don’t know what is going on with me and the lentils, but I think I like it.

This recipe makes a big pot and we feasted off it for multiple lunches and dinners. This is especially appropriate for the New Year as well. The lentil's round shape is reminiscent of a coin and symbolizes prosperity in the New Year in the Italian culture. I'm not Italian, but I'm married to one, so I'm sticking with the tradition.

And so it is that I return to my normally very healthy and nurturing life. I will share with you the adventures that I will encounter over the coming months in my kitchen, my garden, and my life, fancy or not. I invite you to join me in cooking again and even becoming a regular at the gym. My dress pants will thank me. They will thank you, too, for your patience with me.


Lentil Soup (adapted from Cooking Light)

This soup is easy, quick, and unbelievably comforting. One of the virtues of the lentil is that it is so small that it does not require soaking like the larger beans do. That means that, pantry to bowl, this should take about 35 minutes.

I found that this soup thickened up a lot in the fridge, but the addition of a little water before heating it fixed that right up. Feel free to change the seasonings as you see fit. The oregano in this soup is tasty, but it is a versatile recipe that would take well to other spices. I think either curry or cumin would be wonderful. Smoked paprika would also be a lovely option. This is a great time of year for those warm spices.

4 cups organic vegetable broth (it is worth getting the good stuff for soup or making it yourself)
3-1/2 cups water
1 1/2 cups dried lentils
1 cup chopped onion
1 cup chopped carrot
3/4 cup chopped celery
3/4 cup chopped parsnip
2 tablespoons low-sodium soy sauce
2 teaspoons dried oregano
1-15 oz can fire roasted tomatoes (I like Muir Glen)
1/2 teaspoon salt
freshly ground pepper

Combine the broth, water and lentils in a large heavy bottomed pot (I use my enameled cast iron Dutch oven). Bring to a boil, reduce the heat and simmer for 30 minutes.

Add the onion, carrot, celery, and parsnip. Cook 5 minutes longer. Add the remaining ingredients and cook about 10 minutes.

Taste for seasoning and enjoy with good crusty bread.

Makes 8 generous servings