Roast Vegetable Polenta Pie

Eighteen boxes of books are now stacked up in my living room, all packed and ready to leave. I'm not moving or anything, we're still going to be in New York for the foreseeable future. Of course, we never see much beyond our year-to-year lease, even if committing to two years would save money in the end. We can never promise to stay more than just one more year. This August will be the sixth time I've said that.

Most New Yorkers have minimalist living down pretty well, but not me. I'm a collector. And what I collect are books. And this afternoon, I remembered once again, that Books Punish You. Always. If you're going to collect books, you have to really, seriously love them, because they will never make your life easy.

And we're running out of room, and it's getting overwhelming, but it's not completely my fault. I'll spare you my rationalization. The point is my dad offered to store some of my books at home in Denver, in a mostly unused closet in the basement. I've always had kind of a panicky nightmare that our apartment building would one day go up in flames (you hear about those things happening in New York, don't you?) and that I wouldn't be able to save nearly enough books. In fact, probably none of them, because, you know, I'd have to save the dog. So 'some books' turned into eighteen boxes. I don't know why my parents put up with me sometimes. But there it is.

So I'm an irresponsible New Yorker because I don't live sparely. And I'm an irresponsible cooker-out-of-vegan-cookbooks because, well, I almost always want to add cheese. What. I'm not Vegan. But I appreciate their creativity, their focus on vegetables. This time, I didn't listen to my gut, and I regretted it. The polenta pie was delicious, the surprise of maple syrup in the simmered tomato sauce a subtle hint of a little something. And, of course, there's no arguing with roasted vegetables. But the polenta base? Meh. Honestly, it could have used some gruyère in a major way. Next time, I'd add that in. If you're also not a vegan, you should consider doing the same.

Roast Vegetable Polenta Pie
Adopted from Tanya Barnard & Sarah Kramer's How it All Vegan

For the roasted veggies:

1 medium carrot, peeled and sliced
1 small zucchini, sliced
handful of mushrooms, washed and quartered
1 small green pepper, sliced
1 small red pepper, sliced
2 gloves garlic, pressed or minced
1/2 cup water
1 1/2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar
1 tablespoon maple syrup (yes, really!)
1 tablespoon olive oil
Small handful of fresh basil leaved, chopped
4 roma tomatoes, chopped
Salt & pepper to taste

Oven preheated to 450 F. Put all of the chopped vegetables onto a baking sheet and drizzle with olive oil. Toss them around until they're all coated, then roast for 15-20 minutes. You might want to stir them or shake the pan occasionally to prevent sticking. The vegetables should be browned and fragrant by the end.

Place 1/2 cup of the roasted vegetables into a blender along with the rest of the ingredients except the salt and pepper. Blend the mixture, then transfer the sauce and the rest of the roasted vegetables to a sauce pan large enough to hold it all. Cook over medium heat for 10 minutes, then add the salt and pepper to taste. Continue to simmer on low heat while you make the polenta. It's a good idea to give it enough time so that much of the liquid evaporates which does two things. First, it concentrates the flavors, and second it will prevent your filling from being overly runny.

For the polenta crust:

1 cup polenta, not the instant kind (you can use coarse cornmeal)
3 1/2 cups water
1 tablespoon oil
Salt & pepper to taste
1 cup gruyère cheese, shredded (optional, as is the amount)

Whisk together the cornmeal with 1 cup of the water in a medium bowl. Set aside. In a medium saucepan, bring the rest of the water to a boil, then add the cornmeal and the optional cheese to the boiling water and turn down the heat to medium low. Add the rest of the ingredients, then stir continuously for about 10-15 minutes, especially toward the end. The polenta will become very thick and stiff. Pour it into a casserole dish that's been lightly oiled, and push the polenta down into the dish to distribute evenly. Let the polenta set for about 15 minutes.

Pour the vegetable mixture over the polenta, cut into slices and serve.

Linquini with Broccoli Rabe Pesto, Oregano and Peppers

For the longest time I thought I hated roasted peppers because all I'd ever had was the kind from the jar. They were just so...slimy. And I don't think slimy is ever a good descriptor when talking about food. However, flavor can often make up for texture, and the jarred kind doesn't seem to have a whole lot of that either. I've roasted peppers before, actually, and, if I'm being honest, it was kind of a pain. I used the method where you hold the peppers with tongs over the flame of your gas range and wait for the skin to blister, turning as you go. Well sitting there roasting peppers like that, it turns out, is unnecessary. That's what the broiler is for.

I thought this was a pretty creative recipe, actually, one from Andrew Carmellini's Urban Italian. One of the things I loved most about it is that you use the leaves from the broccoli rabe for the pesto, then the little florets and stems as vegetable additions to the pasta. So you're really using just about everything for this one, and it's delicious. Plus, there's that new broiler technique for roasting peppers. And I'll forever be thanking Carmellini for it, although now in retrospect it seems so obvious. I guess many good ideas often do.

Linguine with Broccoli Rabe Pesto, Oregano and Peppers
Adopted from Andrew Carmellini's Urban Italian

1 pound dried linguine
1 bunch broccoli rabe
1/2 cup olive oil
1/4 cup pine nuts
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons grated Parmigiano-Reggiano
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 garlic cloves, sliced as thin as you can manage
1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1/2 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano
1 tablespoon fresh oregano leaves, chopped
3 roasted peppers (see directions below), any colors you like
2 tablespoons panko breadcrumbs

You'll want to be sure that the pasta doesn't finish well in advance of the sauce, because the pasta should still be warm when combined with the pesto and peppers. So get started on the peppers first. Here's how:

Preheat your oven to broil. Slice the peppers in half lengthwise and pull out the seeds, stem and white pith. Put the peppers in a bowl (which you can reuse to let them steam) and toss them with a drizzle of olive oil, as well as some salt and pepper to season. Lay the peppers skin side up on a broiler sheet and get them in. In my oven, I have a little broiler shelf on the bottom which always places things too close to the heat source and causes almost instant burning. So I put them in the oven on the middle rack. Roast for 10 minutes, until the skins are black and blistering.

Flip the peppers over and continue to roast for another 10 minutes. Then remove them to a bowl and cover with aluminum foil or a kitchen towel in order to let them steam for about 20 minutes. At the end of this time, you should be able to slip their skins off pretty easily. Chop them into strips to be tossed with the pasta and set aside.

For the pesto, bring a medium sized pot of water to a boil while you remove the leaves from the broccoli rabe from the stems. Set the leaves aside, then trim the broccoli rabe stems to 2 to 3 inches below the florets and cut the stems in thirds.

This would be a good time to get that pasta water going so it will be boiling when you're ready for it.

Blanch the stems and florets in the boiling water for about 30 seconds, then remove to ice water to stop them from cooking, but keep the water boiling (use a slotted spoon). Next blanch the leaves in the same water for about 1 to 1.5 minutes, until they're tender. Remove the leaves and run under cold water. Then use your hands to squeeze out as much excess water from the leaves as possible.

In a blender, combine the 1/2 cup olive oil with the leaves and give it a wizz until it's the consistency of a smooth paste, about 30 seconds. Add 1/2 cup water and blend again until everything is completely puréed, 30 more seconds. Add the pine nuts and blend until smooth, then add the salt and cheese and blend again until everything comes together.

Cook the pasta according to package directions, minus 1 minute.

While the pasta is cooking, heat the 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a large pot then brown the garlic slightly until fragrant. Add the waiting broccoli stems and florets, as well as the red pepper flakes and toss to combine. Remove the pan from the heat and toss in the linguine and pesto. Add the 1/2 cup grated cheese and fresh oregano and toss again. Crown with strips of the roasted peppers and serve.

Toritos or Little Peppers Stuffed with Garlic, Shrimp and Oaxaca Cheese

So for the last four years, and for four of the five years during which I've been in NYC, I've lived in East Harlem, sometimes called Spanish Harlem because of its high latino population. Only in East Harlem can you walk into the corner store looking for some diet Pepsi and find nopalitos (cactus palms) and epazote (an herb common in Mexican food) chillin' out next to the limes and tomatillos. It has long been my intention to delve into more cuisines from South America, since their ingredients are so easily available to me. So when I was asked if I'd like to review Deborah Schneider's new book Amor y Tacos, of course I said yes.

It's a beautiful little book, this one, with color pictures for most of the recipes. Don't be fooled by the titles, there's much more here than just tacos. (Although there are plenty of tacos as well, and they get a chapter all to themselves.) The entire first chapter is devoted to drinks like Tangerine Ginger Margaritas, Watermelon Agua Fresca and even Hibiscus Margaritas. I think some kind of Margarita party ought to be in my future this summer.

But for my first recipe from the book, I chose something out of the Antojitos (or snacks) section. And man, these Toritos were seriously, seriously delicious. Here are a few hints as far as ingredients go. You can use any peppers you like, from hot and spicy jalapeños to mild miniature sweet peppers. I used mini bell peppers because I found a bag full and they were just so pretty, and sometimes I'm not great with very hot food. I also used shredded Oaxaca cheese because of my proximity to those wonderful latino markets. But if you can't find it, the recipe suggests Jack cheese or mozzarella, which would be closer in spirit to Oaxaca (the mozzarella that is).

Toritos, Little Peppers Stuffed with Garlic, Shrimp and Oaxaca Cheese
Adopted from Deborah Schneider's Amor y Tacos

8 small pointed peppers, like jalapeños, güero or mini sweet peppers
1 tablespoon butter
1 1/2 teaspoons minced fresh garlic
1 green onion, white and light green parts thinly sliced
4 ounces (about 10) medium raw shrimp, peeled and deveined, then chopped
1/4 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup shredded oaxaca (or Jack, or mozzarella) cheese
Mango Habanero salsa (follows)

Wash the chili peppers, then dry them, but leave the stems attached. If you're using very hot pepper, used gloves as you cut a slit down one side and pull out the seeds, use a spoon if you need to. If you're using sweet peppers, the cloves won't be necessary. Try not to break the peppers or crack off the stems.

In a large skillet, melt the butter over medium-low heat and add the garlic and green onions. Saute until fragrant, but not quite browned. Add the shrimp, season with the salt, and cook until the shrimp is pink and no longer translucent. Remove this mixture from the heat and let cool as you prepare the salsa.

For the salsa

1 ripe mango (still firm), peeled and diced
1 small roma tomato, cored and diced
2 tablespoon diced red onion
1/2 teaspoon minced habanero chile (remember to wear your gloves!)
1 tablespoon fresh lime juice, or to taste
1/2 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon rice vinegar
1/2 teaspoon chopped fresh mint
1 tablespoon chopped fresh cilantro

Combine all the ingredients and taste for seasoning. It will be very hot, but may need more salt or lime juice. Set aside.

Preheat the oven to 350 F.

Returning to the pepper mixture, mix the cheese into the now cooled shrimp mixture. The cheese and shrimp mixture should stick together. Use a small spoon to fill each pepper generously with the stuffing. The recipe can be made ahead and refrigerated to this point, although you'll want to make the salsa just before serving.

Heat a large pan over medium-high and lay a sheet of foil over the top. Set the peppers on the foil and roast them until they begin to brown in places and start to soften.

Transfer the pan to the preheated oven and bake for 5 to 7 minutes until the cheese is hot and bubbling. To serve, spoon some of the salsa over the top.

String Bean Salad

I read a lot of blogs, all kinds really, but one unifying theme is that most are written by women. I love women's voices, love that the internet is allowing so many more of them some space, and I love that many of us now have easy access to them. Perhaps my love for women's writing has something to do with why I've always been drawn to cookbooks. And a specific type of cookbook, too. The kind published in the 60s or 70s, at a moment when the publishing world was (and still is, for that matter) so dominated by men's voices, I really love that cookbooks and food writing (but usually in cookbook form) often gave women a space to fill for themselves.

One such writer is Miriam Ungerer, about whom you don't seem to hear too much these days. But I own a number of her books, and I always enjoy reading them, even if I don't always cook from them. As far as I know, she lives in the old whaling village of Sag Harbor, Long Island, and at least she used to write a column for the East Hampton Star. This one, for example, in which she reminisces about a conversation she once had with Muhammad Ali about his mother's peach cobbler. And there's also a little feminist part of me that wants to celebrate writers like her, whose voice is captured in a genre most of the literary circles never notice. Because I love women's writing.

Not to mention that this green bean salad wasn't to shabby, either. Although if I learned one thing from my spectacular experience with the Frog Commissary's Peperonata, it's that boiled baby potatoes added to any summer salad make them not only more substantial, but even more delicious. So next time, that is what I'd do here. But otherwise, it's a good example of why, if you have the time, making our own dressing is well worth the effort. Ungerer calls this a once "bizarre combination" of ingredients, which seems strange to us now, in its obviousness. But evidently she was referring, at least in part, to the eating of cold string beans, now familiar to pretty much everyone.

String Bean Salad
Adapted from Miriam Ungerer's Summertime Food

1/2 pound tiny, fresh green beans, topped and tailed (in other words, remove both ends)
Handful of small cherry tomatoes, or small heirloom tomatoes if that's what you've got, halved
4 medium scallions, thinly sliced
Sauce Vinaigrette (follows)
Salt and pepper to taste

Toss the beans into a pot of salted and rapidly boiling water and boil them until they turn dark green. This will only take about 3 minutes. Drain them right away and run them under cold water to stop them from cooking further. Set aside while you make the vinaigrette.

For the Sauce Vinaigrette

6 tablespoons good olive oil
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon salt, or to taste
Freshly ground black pepper, to taste
1/2 teaspoon dry mustard
1 clove of garlic (not too big) passed through a press
Minced herbs, such as basil

Dump all of the ingredients into a jar with a sealed lid and give them a good shake.

Put the beans, and the rest of the salad ingredients into a salad bowl and toss with the vinaigrette. Serve

Strawberry Rhubarb Fruit Gelee

Sheesh, I've been busy. And the first thing that always goes when I'm busy is feeding myself. Let's be honest here, sometimes it can be a chore. But that's not what I want to talk about anyway, better to just forget about it and try to do better next week. So summer. I have to say, this Norwegian rhubarb cake has been pretty popular, and although I also love it, what I've really been obsessed with is the fruit gelee. Remember a little while back when I made one with rhubarb? Well R never got so much as a spoonful of that, because I polished it all off myself before he even realized it was in the house. Come on, R! With four siblings, you'd think you'd know how to fend for yourself when it comes to the best food in the kitchen!

So I had to make it again. But this time, in addition to the rhubarb, I had about three cups of strawberries that were about to turn as well as a bottle of orange blossom water, and therefore the mixings for some serious fruit gelee. As I said, I'm all for the fruit cakes, and fruit bakes and crumbles and tarts. But for sheer ease and ability to refresh without any guilt (although I don't advocate guilt when it comes to food ever), nothing (seriously, nothing) beats the fruit gelee. And they are So. Flippin. Good.

Strawberry and Rhubarb Fruit Gelee

1 pound rhubarb, sliced
1/2 cup sugar (you could probably get away with less if your strawberries are nice and sweet)
3 cups strawberries, hulled and cut in half
1 teaspoon orange blossom water (optional but wonderful)
Juice of 1 large orange (about 1/2 cup)
2 envelopes knox gelatin, or 2 tablespoons powdered gelatin if you're measuring.

Put the rhubarb and strawberries into a pot and fill with water until the fruit is just covered. Add the sugar and simmer the mixture until soft. Strain out the fruit, and reserve the cooking water into which the rhubarb and strawberry juices have just been rendered. Put the fruit aside in a 9x9" dish that will be going into the refrigerator.

Return the cooking water to the heat and bring to a boil. Whisk the gelatin into the water, adding it slowly, until it fully dissolves. Remove from the heat and add the orange juice and the orange blossom water. Continue to whisk until the mixture froths.

Pour the juice mixture over the reserved fruit and refrigerate for several hours until set. You can slice the gelee and serve on plates, or heap it into bowls or cups.

Fresh Dates Stuffed with Orange-Scented Pistachios

Have you ever wondered what a fresh date is like? I have, not that infrequently, actually. So when I saw dates still affixed to their stem at the Chelsea Market the other week, I grabbed them right up. Fresh dates ripen in stages, with a slightly different flavor and texture in each stage. Right from the palm, they're supposed to be pale, plump, even slightly astringent, ripening, sweetening and darkening until they reach the state in which you're most likely to find them: dark and sticky and sweet.

And although I know there's symbolism behind so many fruits, the date really was a sustainer of life in ancient Egypt, sacred to Ra, the sun god. Symbolic of life over death. Its syrup is still used to sweeten and bind, which sounds pretty good to me. I wish I had found my little dates a bit closer to the first stage of ripeness, during which they're supposed to have "the crunch and juiciness of a Granny Smith apple" but remain sweet as honey. If you happen to live in California, where I believe the majority of dates are grown in the US, you may have better luck than I. As it was, my dates were not that far from the ordinary dried ones, but I still plucked them off the stalk, split them down the middle to get out the pit, and stuffed them full.

These were good, but I have a feeling they would have been better with my coveted truly fresh dates that I swear to you right now, I will eventually find. The filling is quite sweet, and as dates ripen they become sweeter, so there's that. If any of you have experience with the truly fresh date, feel free to make me jealous.

I know, I know, but she's just so darn cute!

Fresh Dates Stuffed with Orange-Scented Pistachios
Adopted from ABC of Western Australia

100 grams shelled pistachio nuts, unsalted
40 grams confectioner's sugar (powdered sugar, or icing sugar depending on where you live)
1/4 teaspoon orange blossom water
Zest of 1 medium orange
1 tablespoon freshly squeezed orange juice
16 fresh (or fresh-ish) dates

In the bowl of a food processor (you can use a mini one if you have it) grind the pistachios until quite fine. Transfer them to a small bowl and add the sugar, orange blossom water, orange zest and orange juice. Kneed with your hands until it becomes the consistency of a paste.

With a small paring knife, slit each date down the side and remove the pit. Use a small spoon to stuff some of the pistachio mixture into each date and reform the date around the mixture.