French onion soup-ish

Do you ever get the urge to try a recipe that just sounds weird? Every so often I come across a recipe so strange and different that I just have to try it out. Sometimes there’s a good reason it sounds so unusual (like that horrible vegetable soup I made), but sometimes you end up with something sublime, like the “soup” pictured above, whose name is full of lies. This so-called “Soupe a l’Oignon Gratinee” is actually more of a savory onion bread pudding concoction. A scrumptious one.

I found the recipe in The Essential New York Times Cookbook by Amanda ”Still Annoying” Hesser, but it originally came from Gastronomie Practique, a cookbook published by a French chemist under the pseudonum “Ali-Bab” in 1907. Craig Claiborne published it in the Times in 1974. In other words, this is a classic. Instead of drowning the caramelized onions in gallons of beef broth, you layer them with buttered baguette, cheese, and dabs of tomato puree, then gently add just enough salty water to cover all the layers and cook until “the surface looks like a crusty, golden cake and the inside is unctuous and so well blended that it is impossible to discern either cheese or onion.” If the crusty/soggy bread on top of French Onion Soup is your favorite part, then you’ll love this. This was one of the odder dinners I have made, but one of the more delicious. (My beloved Ginger absolutely hated this, but we’ll ignore his opinion for the purposes of this blog post, because he was wrong.)

I can haz shrimp burger?

Sorry for the lengthy holdup, folks. I started a new job and it turns out that new jobs and blogging dinner are mutually exclusive. Not only would my employer most likely frown upon workday blogging, but there’s something about a new job that’s uniquely exhausting. I come home and have no energy for anything beyond lying on the couch with the adorable Dinnr hound and her soft belly fur. I have been cooking a little, though, and I do have a small backlog of dinners to discuss, such as this odd-looking but delicious shrimp burger.

As usual, I found the recipe in The Essential New York Times Cookbook by Amanda Hesser. One of these days I’ll branch out a bit, I swear. Even though this shrimp burger has a large pile of herbs in it, I somehow didn’t expect it to come out looking so…green…but it was quite tasty, despite having been devised by my recipe nemesis, Mark Bittman. Healthy, too. I cooked them on a grill pan* instead of the real grill and ate mine with a bit of Sriracha and a bit of mayo.

On the side, a scrumptious eggplant salad I have discussed before.

* Do any of you lovely people know how to clean a not-nonstick grill pan? This thing works great, but I have never before encountered such an intractable bunch of carbonized ridges.

Skillet spirals with sausage and spinach

Funemployment is making me feel uncomfortably like some sort of stereotypical wifely figure. For example, on Tuesday I spent the day running errands and eating bonbons on the couch, as stereotypical wifely figures do, and then when my beloved Ginger came home he said “have you made dinner yet? I’m starving!” I’m not cut out for this. Anyway, until Tuesday night I had never made a skillet dinner, but doesn’t it sound homey and comforting and all-American? It totally was. There’s nothing exotic here, unless you consider sundried tomatoes exotic: sausage, baby spinach, a little parm. But my-oh-my did this hit the spot, and it came together in less than thirty minutes. 

The recipe came from the Cook’s Illustrated website. It calls for chicken or turkey Italian sausage, but I wasn’t interested in making a special trip to buy that so I used the pork variety and drained off the fat and it was fine. Probably better, actually, if we’re honest with ourselves. Next time I would use hot Italian sausage for some extra zing. 

About a pie

I’m in a little period of funemployment right now, so last week I popped up to Boston for a few days to visit my family and northern friends. While I was there I whipped up a truly delicious beef stew (which I already discussed here, and by the way the leftovers were outstanding) and other than that, I mostly laid around napping. I was so overcome by sloth that I couldn’t even drag myself off the couch to go shopping, and that’s saying something! I much prefer Boston shopping to DC shopping, so I always try to do some damage when I’m home. 

One of my favorite visiting-home pseudotraditions is going to Russo’s with my mother shortly after I arrive and buying way, way too much stuff. I hate to risk making Russo’s even more crowded, but if you live in Boston and haven’t been to this mecca of fine and reasonably-priced foodstuffs, you are seriously missing out. They have everything you need - great produce at wholesale prices, including all sorts of Asian herbs, plus fancy charcuterie and cheeses, tasty baked goods, and all sorts of other delectables. Last time I was there I discovered “metch,” a delicious Armenian dish made from bulgur wheat, tomato, scallions, spices, and lemon. And now my mouth is watering just thinking about it.

Anyway, so we bought way too many apples and then we made this tasty apple pie, which was originally supposed to be part of that beef stew extravaganza, but you know. Laziness. This was a really good pie, though. Not too sweet.

For the crust I used my favorite, reliable recipe, from Cook’s Illustrated. It replaces some of the water with vodka to increase tenderness by inhibiting gluten formation, and uses the food processor in a nifty way to coat all the butter with flour. I always replace the shortening with an equal amount of butter and halve the water (to account for the water content in butter). This is the only all-butter pie dough recipe I know that consistently produces a flaky crust. 

Apple Pie (serves eight)

1 recipe pie dough for a double-crusted pie (see note above)
6 Granny Smith apples (or another cooking apple), peeled, cored, and sliced thinly
Juice of 1/2 lemon
1/4 tsp. salt
Sugar to taste
Cinnamon to taste
1 tbsp. flour
2 tbsp. unsalted butter, cut into pea-sized bits
1 egg, lightly beaten (optional)

Prepare and chill your pie dough. You’ll want to chill it in two balls. 

Preheat the oven to 400°. Mix your apple slices in a big bowl with the lemon juice, salt, and flour, then add cinnamon and sugar to taste. You want it to be sweetened, but not too sweet. Or at least that’s how I would want it, if I were you. 

When the apples are mixed up and your pie dough balls are thoroughly cold, take the dough out of the fridge and let the chill come off for a couple minutes so you can roll it out. It’s okay to smack the dough a couple times with your rolling pin. Science says it will make the dough soften up quicker and make you feel pleased with yourself. Ahem. On a floured surface, roll out the bottom crust to the size of your pie pan, then drape the dough over the rolling pin and carefully lay it in the pie pan. Pour in the apple mixture and sprinkle the butter bits over.

Then roll out the top crust, drape it over the rolling pin, and lay it evenly over the top of the pie. To seal the pie up, trim the crusts to overhang the pan a little less than an inch, then fold the top crust under the bottom crust all around the pan. Then, use a fork to press all around the edge of the pie to seal it. If you’d like, you can brush lightly-beaten egg over the top of the pie and sprinkle cinnamon sugar over it. If you’re crafty (like my mother), you can also make a cute little leaf-and-apple motif out of dough and stick it on with egg. Either way, make sure to poke holes in the crust with a fork so steam can escape. No one likes an exploding pie. Bake for about forty minutes, until the crust is golden brown and you can hear the apples bubbling. Pie dough can burn quickly, so keep an eye on it. 

Pie is a dish best served warm. 

On second thought, maybe this beef stew is better

My beloved Ginger, along with really anyone else who knows me, might gently note that although I am generally a completely flawless flower and unique snowflake, I am perhaps a bit indecisive from time to time. Should I book the 7am flight or the 8am flight? There is clearly a right answer here, but how to anticipate which it will be? Should I order the lamb kebab or the beef kebab? I’m in the mood for lamb, but what if the beef is better? We should each get different things, then share. You know, an insurance policy. This makes total sense. Therefore, it should surprise no one that I’m already recanting my claim that Sunday’s Irish Beef Stew is ”the best.” It WAS the best, but that was before my mother and I found the “Beef Stew with Dijon and Cognac” in The Essential New York Times Cookbook by Amanda “Annoying” Hesser. Now, of course, I would say there might be a tie.

A beef stew recipe with three quarters of a cup of mustard might sound like a recipe for doom, and I certainly had my moment of tremulous doubt as I whisked in all that Grey Poupon. Not to worry, though. The long, slow cooking mellows the spice and by the end, you might not even be able to identify that deliciousness as “mustard.” We used normal brandy instead of Cognac and bacon instead of salt pork and it was perfectly fine. Serve with buttered noodles and something green, like the hashed Brussels sprouts I threw together on the fly.

Roasted squash and greens pasta

Have you signed up for the Splendid Table weekly emails? You probably should. My mother tuned me in to this: every week, Lynne Rossetto Kasper of NPR fame sends out an email with a recipe, usually one that’s easy to make and in the “budget” category. I particularly loved this in law school, unsurprisingly, but even now that I’m a respectable old married lady, I still get a kick out of these emails. Some of the recipes are a little weird, but mostly they’re right up my alley: familiar, but a bit creative. 

This recipe, for pasta with roasted winter squash, greens, and onions, is a prime example. I’ve made it several times since it made its way to the Dinnr inbox in 2008, and the other night I persuaded my beloved Ginger to take the reins. Does roasted vegetable pasta sound kind of boring? Yes. Is this delicious? A thousand times yes. You toss your squash, escarole, and onion with herbs, spices, and brown sugar before roasting them, then finish it off with Asiago cheese and a splash of half-and-half. Delish, and you won’t break the bank. 

The best beef stew

It’s so chilly here in DC that I actually turned on the heat this morning! I’m one of those people with a three-degree comfortable temperature range. Maybe because I grew up in New England, I always feel a little bad about that, like maybe I should suck it up and hold out longer…but then I don’t. Anyway, Biscuit and I have been waiting impatiently for the hot weather to finally, finally end, so today I’m all ready to tell you about a delicious autumnal dinner: this beef stew, which can be in your dinner bowl in under two hours, but which tastes as good as any multi-day Julia Child affair.

The original recipe, which my beloved Ginger found a few years ago on Simply Recipes, is a little unique for a couple of reasons. First, it calls for Guinness AND red wine AND beef stock when most beef stews seem to stick with just one or two of those three. This is really the key distinction, in my opinion: the broth is intensely savory. Second, it’s not thickened with flour, which always leaves a stew a bit gloopy. The potatoes are enough to do the trick. Finally, you caramelize those potatoes (as well as the carrots and onions) before you add them to the stew. I tweaked the recipe just a bit, adding more meat and cutting back a bit on the potatoes. 

Beef Stew with Guinness (serves four with leftovers)

3 tbsp. vegetable oil
2 lb. well-marbled beef chuck, cut into one-inch pieces
6 large garlic cloves, minced
6 C beef stock
1 C Guinness
1 C dry red wine
2 tbsp. tomato paste
1 tbsp. sugar
1 tbsp. dried thyme
1 tbsp. Worcestershire sauce
2 bay leaves
2 tbsp. butter
2 large Russet potatoes, peeled and chopped into a half-inch dice
1 large onion, chopped
4 large carrots, peeled and cut into half-inch pieces
Salt
Freshly-ground black pepper

Heat the olive oil in a large Dutch oven or heavy pot, then add the beef cubes in a single layer, sprinkle with salt, and brown on both sides. You might need to do this in two batches. Once all the beef is browned, return it all to the pot, add the garlic, and sauté for one minute, stirring constantly. Stir in the the beef stock, Guinness, wine, tomato paste, sugar, thyme, Worcestershire sauce, and bay leaves. Bring the mixture to a boil, then reduce the heat to a low simmer, cover the pot, and simmer for an hour, stirring occasionally. Your house will smell amazing.

While that’s doing, peel and chop all your carrots and potatoes and onions. In a second large pot or big skillet, melt the butter, then sauté the vegetables until they are golden, about twenty minutes. Set aside.

When the stew has cooked for an hour, stir in the potato/carrot/onion mixture. Continue simmering, uncovered, for another forty minutes, until the vegetables are all cooked through and the beef is very tender. Remove the bay leaves, skim off any fat, and season with salt and pepper to taste. Serve with egg noodles or warm crusty bread. 

The rarest pasta

…is the pasta I don’t like. For some reason I thought this pasta with tuna, mustard, and really nothing else would be good, but I was pretty much wrong. If you have tuna, mustard, and really nothing else in your cupboard, then I suppose this wouldn’t be such a bad dinner. For the rest of us, however, this pasta is not worth the BTUs. 

Fish with garlic and vinegar and sweet potatoes

This might be the most uninspiring photo I have ever posted on this blog, but as is often the case, this ugly food was delicious. In fact, my beloved Ginger said this was one of the best dinners we’ve had yet! This was Tuesday night, and we ate fish fillets with a mild garlic-vinegar sauce, served on a bed of sauteed shredded sweet potatoes with Vidalia onion and pimenton. Not only was this scrumptious, but it took less than thirty minutes to prepare and it didn’t even make that much of a mess. Great success all around.

I found the fish recipe in How to Cook Italian by Giuliano Hazan, which, tragically, is out of print. (You can still get a used copy cheap on Amazon, though.) It calls for mahi-mahi, bluefish, or mackerel, but Whole Foods had none of those fishes so I got turbot instead. The fish guy actually said that tilapia would be a good mahi-mahi substitute, but…I think tilapia is icky. That’s just me, though.

Sauteed Sweet Potatoes (serves two)

2 tbsp. olive oil
1/3 of a sweet onion, finely diced
Salt
1/4 tsp. pimenton
1 large sweet potato, peeled and shredded on the large holes of a box grater
Freshly-ground black pepper

Heat the olive oil over medium heat in a ten-inch nonstick skillet, then add the onion and a pinch of salt and cook until the onion is translucent and golden. Add the pimenton and stir until it’s fragrant, about thirty seconds, then add the sweet potato. Cook, stirring occasionally, for about fifteen minutes, until the potatoes are tender and starting to brown on the bottom. Season with pepper and additional salt if needed and serve immediately.

Spaghetti and Meatballs, part troix

Who doesn’t like meatballs? Well, people don’t eat meat might not. But on the other hand, they might. In any case, most right-thinking people can agree that meatballs are delicious, and my beloved Ginger perks right up if I suggest a meatball-related dinner. So it was on Sunday night, when I rounded up all the makings for this herbal spaghetti-and-meatballs dinner and then persuaded the Ginge to cook it up for me. Perhaps the only thing better than meatballs is meatballs cooked by someone other than myself.

The recipe comes from Mark Bittman, a few weeks ago in theSunday Times. You throw a bunch of herbs in the meatballs and then make an all-herb sauce for the pasta. The meatballs were really scrumptious, tender and flavorful, but I think next time I’ll go a step further and add some nuts to the pasta sauce before grinding it up, to make it more of like a multi-herb pesto. But as we know, the Ginge and I are pesto fiends. This was quite a good dinner in its own right.