Winter Risotto

In tenth grade, my English teacher assigned us a journal. Once a week, we were to write an entry about a page in length, and from what I recall it could be about whatever we wanted. Mine usually tended toward flights of fancy, as I wrote about elves or nature or about dreams I’d had. To my current shame but my then-pride, these were typically composed the morning the assignment was due, sometimes only in the class period just before English. My teacher, however, seemed to think my hastily penned essays were carefully considered marvels, even mentioning me once as an example to the class about how planning ahead and revising led to beautiful, crafted writing. I tried not to smirk.

One of these spur-of-the-moment entries discussed winter after Christmas: a season of sharp winds, unforgiving temperatures, and frost-slowed aspirations. It was dingy and cold, a harsh contrast to the joy-crammed, spiced festivity of the holiday-gone-by. As a high school student, winter after Christmas meant a return to school, so it’s no wonder I wasn’t enthused. Reflecting now, though, winter after Christmas feels a little different. Maybe it’s that I don’t go back to work until February, but winter after Christmas – winter after New Year’s, really – feels a bit more promising. I’m not talking resolutions, necessarily; I have those, but I’m not trying to turn my whole life around. Instead, it feels like an opportunity for some revising – the kind I never did on my writing as a high school student.

I’m sure you’ve noticed, but I haven’t done very well with this blog lately. So I’m not promising anything, because that sort of promise leads so quickly to disappointment or to shoddy, hasty products, but posting a recipe on January 7th does feel fairly promising, particularly after a disastrous fall/pre-Xmas performance.

As my high school self knew, this promising season is sometimes hard to see. It’s cold (at least colder than usual, yes, even in Southern California). The sun is steely and the sky sometimes threatens to open. But there are already small indications of warmth and growth and goodness to come. Some brave bulb plants have poked a curious tip or two of green above ground. For me, at least, the urge to organize has reared its head – look out, garage! And for my household, if you follow blackberryeating on Instagram you’ll already know there’s promising newness in the form of four speckled, brindled paws and a pair of liquid brown eyes. No one could ever replace Lucy, but this past weekend we welcomed a shy-but-affectionate little pup named Holly into our home and into the dog-shaped holes in our hearts. She’s a little shy about the big camera at the moment, but I’m sure you’ll be seeing plenty of her as she gets more comfortable.

So: post-Christmas chill but promising growth. You need something comforting with sparks of brightness. I decided on risotto: the warmth of creamy, just-cooked rice, fragrant with the stock and wine it has absorbed, punctuated by the vegetal freshness of whatever accompaniments you decide to stir in (and this seems to be a common thing for me, as seen here). As we’re working with a kind of winter-into-spring theme, I wanted vegetables that bridged the gap. Brussels sprouts stand in for the ragged roughness of winter, sturdy, but peeled into leaves and sliced so thin they become tender with only a minute or two of cooking. Leeks, my favorite member of the onion family, with their wintry white bulbs but supple, pale-green interiors, provide an aromatic bolster, made rich after a slow sweat in butter. Lemon zest to wake things up, and a generous palmful of dill to pull things forward into spring. Little tastes as springy to me as grassy, fresh, green-tasting dill.

We liked this as-is, but I could immediately see that a few perfect scallops, or a handful of shrimp seared with butter and lemon, would make a beautiful topping. So there you have it. Not a promise, but a dish that is, perhaps, promising. Promising of the season to come, promising of impending freshness and growth, and promising of good things on the horizon.

Winter Risotto
40-45 minutes
Serves 8
5-6 cups low sodium chicken or vegetable broth or stock
4 tablespoons butter, divided
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 leeks, white and pale green parts only
2 cups short grain white rice
½ cup white wine
1 pound (16 ounces) brussels sprouts
zest of one lemon
1-2 tablespoons lemon juice
3-4 tablespoons chopped fresh dill
salt and pepper to taste, which you will use to season throughout the cooking process

 

  • Start by heating the broth or stock to a simmer in a medium pot. It will warm up faster if you put a lid on it. You might not use it all, but risotto lore affirms absorption will be better and the dish will be ready faster if the liquid is already hot.
  • While the broth warms, melt 2 tablespoons of the butter and the 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a large skillet over medium-low heat. Prep the leeks by lopping off the roots, if there are any, and cutting off the very dark greens, which are quite tough. Split each leek section lengthwise, so you are left with two half cylinders. Run these under water, using your thumbs to separate the layers a bit and rinse away any grit within. Shake off the excess water, then return to your cutting board and slice each leek very thinly into little half-moon shapes.
  • When the butter and oil have melted together, add the sliced leeks, a pinch or two of salt and pepper, and, stirring occasionally, let them sweat down and soften for 7-10 minutes. The goal here is not to brown them, but to cook gently.
  • With soft, tender leek ribbons achieved, crank the heat up to medium high and add the rice all at once, stirring it into and through the vegetables and fat to coat it evenly. Let it toast, stirring gently, for 3-5 minutes. Then pour in the white wine and stir gently but consistently until the liquid is almost completely absorbed.
  • Now starts the part of risotto making that people consider labor-intensive: turn the heat down to medium and begin adding the stock or broth about a cup at a time. With each addition, stir gently but firmly and frequently as the liquid absorbs. I don’t think you need to stir the whole time, but the more you stir, the creamier your end product will be. The first few additions of broth will seem to absorb very quickly, so more stirring is needed. After ten minutes or so, the broth will absorb more slowly, so you’ll have time for things in between.
  • Once the absorption rate slows down a bit, you should have time to prep your brussels sprouts. Trim off a bit of the stalk end, especially if it is discolored, and peel away any wilted, yellowed, or discolored leaves. If you are feeling exceptionally patient, peel the sprouts into individual leaves. If you are feeling less patient, cut them into slices as thin as you can manage. Stir in the sprout slices and/or the leaves with your last addition of broth. Sprinkle in a bit more salt to account for the unseasoned veg you just added.
  • When this final addition of liquid is almost absorbed, the rice should be fully cooked, with just a tiny bite, but not a crunch, in the center. At this stage, add the remaining 2 tablespoons butter, the lemon zest and juice, and the dill. Stir through, sample and add salt and pepper to taste.
  • If you are adding seared seafood of some kind to round out the meal, serve by adding a scoop of risotto to a shallow bowl, then topping with the protein and, if you like, a final sprinkle of lemon zest and/or dill. If you are not adding anything, I’d still suggest a final sprinkle of zest and dill for punch and aesthetics. Serve hot.

Rain Check

Do you think a major rain check is a flood check? A monsoon check? A climate change check?

I’m taking one of those.

Once again, I don’t have a post for you. And I won’t next week either. Or the week after that. But I do have a reason for this.

That’s right. We’re going to Europe. France and Italy, to be exact. And there are so many things we want to see and do, but to be honest with you, because I always try to be honest with you, I think eating tops my list. It’s true; eating is usually right up there, but France? Italy? The pastries. The bread. The cheese. The wine. The pasta. The pastries (oh, did I say that already? Yeah…).

So I obviously won’t be posting (or cooking) while we’re away, but I hope to come back brimming with ideas. If you’d like to follow along on our adventures a little closer to real time, come on over to Instagram: my username there is blackberryeating and I suspect I’ll be recording a lot of what we see and do. And eat.

So au revoir for now, and arrivederci! See you in August.

#zucchinidaysofsummer

Afraid I don’t have a recipe for you today – between returning from one trip, prepping for another, and the general distressing state of The News, I haven’t produced anything I felt confident sharing with you. You can see from my hashtag title here, though, what I’ve been up to. If you follow me on Instagram (or if you’ve checked out the little Igram photo further down the page recently), you’ll have seen that I’m aiding and abetting perhaps the most prolific zucchini plant I’ve ever encountered. From its rooted stem to the tips of its highest leaves it probably stands four and a half feet tall, and the dark green, curved baseball bats I’ve been snapping off the thing are both awe inspiring and distressing, since I’m running out of ideas to use them up. These aren’t zucchini anymore; they’re proper marrows. Look out neighbors… I’m almost to the point of leaving “gifts” on your doorsteps in the dead of night.

Since I don’t have a real post to share with you, I thought instead I’d tell you a few of the ways I’ve been working through my harvest. In addition to last week’s zucchini bread, I’ve dabbled in a goat cheese and zucchini tart, a triumphant ratatouille adapted from Thomas Keller’s confit byaldi, and a shower of thin slivers added to fajita vegetables. Tonight I’m planning what I hope will be a triumphant stuffed endeavor: ground lamb studded with toasted pine nuts, golden raisins, preserved lemon, plenty of dill, and some feta. Maybe a few garbanzo beans. Certainly an avalanche of bread crumbs to keep N. happy. I’ll hollow the central line of seeds out from one of the larger specimens and fill with my mixture, then roast until the crumbs are golden and the squash itself has softened.

Future ideas include breaded and fried slices, either crunched as an extravagant appetizer or stacked a la eggplant parmesan, replacements for lasagna noodles in a lighter, summery version of the baked pasta, and the ever popular “zoodles” with the spiralizer tool I keep forgetting I own. A friend is tracking down her mother’s old recipe for zucchini pickles, and I’m considering adding shreds to bread pudding, since the shelves of my freezer not weighed down with loaves of zucchini bread are filling up with sourdough crusts from our everyday loaves.

In the midst of all this, I have a tricky Chopped Challenge entree “basket” to deal with, which I hope I’ll have developments to report on soon…

What do you like to do with zucchini? What else should I try with my massive harvest? Leave me a comment, if you’re so inclined, and help me devour these monsters.

Rain check

Guys, I thought I could do it. I really did. Two weeks in a row! Back to normal! And then there was a weekend punctuated by a wonderful play, wonderful friends, wonderful food, and one too many wonderful daiquiris… followed, not so surprisingly, by a day during which I got no momentum until mid-afternoon, and grudgingly decided I needed to be responsible with my time and prep for the week ahead instead of racing to make and photograph something for us.

But rest assured, all is not lost! I have one more Monday left in May, my Chopped Challenge “producer” is back with lots of ideas, and I have an appetizer in mind that I hope will be the perfect bright, springy addition to whatever your Memorial Day weekend might hold. Just… hold that… for a little bit… and I’ll be back soon.

Talking About Thinking About Food *

* with apologies to I.’s podcast “Talking About Thinking About Records”

It’s funny how vacation works, isn’t it? You dive in with ambition: goals! Plans! But the first thing you want to do is relax, right? I mean, you need some definite time for relaxing, especially if the vacation starts with a holiday that requires preparation. And then once you’ve relaxed for a week… or maybe two… you start thinking about those plans. You start one of them. You consider another. And then when you clear your head again, there are only three days left before work starts again, and you realize that since you can’t accomplish everything you set out to do, it would be better to just stubbornly do nothing, telling yourself you are enjoying the time left as hard as you can.

At least, that’s what you do if you’re me. I had six tasks written down that I wanted to accomplish over the winter break. I did two of them. At first I was fairly gung-ho. I embarked on one of my big projects, but circumstances were more complicated than intended, and then a few things took longer than I thought, and there were shows to watch, and a dog who needed attention, and a husband who wanted the same, and suddenly it was February and I had to start thinking about my classes for the impending semester.

One of the tasks I had set for myself, as it seems I always do during breaks, and always fail to fulfill, was to create a backlog of posts so that for the first month of school, I would already have something ready to go and thus stay ahead of the curve, if a week lacking in time or inspiration came along. But in the actual weeks when I should have been doing this, I was by turns uninspired and resentful. I realize that this blog isn’t my job – it’s my hobby! But sometimes, because I give myself a weekly deadline, it feels like a job. Therefore, when I start to think about plotting out and executing a recipe, especially if that’s going to involve doing a round (or two) of dishes first, I feel like I’m giving up my vacation. Even though this is supposed to be my fun “work.”

So clearly I don’t have a recipe for you this week. “Just post a photo of food!” my mom said when I talked to her this weekend. But I’m a writer more than a photographer, so instead I thought I’d tell you a little about some of the food I ate during this break, and some of the dishes I’m thinking about now. I can’t promise all – or any! – of them will appear here, but maybe it will be a good way, as I teeter on the precipice of the new semester, of getting me back into all of my “jobs,” not just the one I get paid for.  🙂

The best thing I ate over the break may have been the dessert my sister, my mom and I made for Christmas. This year, we decided on a theme of “spiced.” Breaking from our appetizer tradition, we made a sit-down dinner, and everything in the meal – in fact, everything we ate all day (minus the odd chocolate truffle) – had to have a spiced component. Apple cardamom cake for breakfast, avocado toast with dukkah for lunch; N. even brewed a winter-spiced ale to fit the theme. Dessert, then, was an opportunity to show off all those warm tingling flavors in the spice cupboard, which we did with a trifle. In a huge balloon of a wine glass, we layered chunks of Mom’s best gingerbread, dollops of nutmeg and rum custard, ginger apple compote, and a generous heap of whipped cream. It was an indulgent project to dig your spoon all the way down and pick up a taste of everything, but the components went together perfectly, and the custard and compote were sufficiently rich, and the whipped cream, well, creamy enough, that you couldn’t tell I’d overbaked the gingerbread just a touch… Actually, I do have a photo of this one:

Other break foods that were definitively worth eating included the lamb burger from the recently shuttered San Francisco location of Park Chow, perfectly medium in the center and so juicy it required rolled-up sleeves. I tried a deliciously crunchy Hong Kong style crispy noodle dish at a Chinese restaurant near my parents’ house and wanted nothing else for two days. We made a lightly amended version of Melissa D’Arabian’s wine braised pork tacos that went over extremely well, especially with bright red cabbage strands and chunks of avocado on top. Perhaps most recently, we took a large, lightly toasted pavlova topped with stewed berries, toasted almonds, and amaretto whipped cream as a dessert offering for dinner with friends with a severe wheat allergy. The pillowy, marshmallowy center hidden inside the light crispness of the meringue’s exterior is a revelation.

Looking forward, I have an eclectic mix of things I think sound good. I’ve finally caught N.’s taco bug and now I just want them all the time. This week I’m taking an Ottolenghi recipe for squash that drizzles butternut batons with an herb oil and dollops them with yogurt, and folding them into a tortilla because why not? I’m dreaming of a winter taco that involves beer braised beef, shaved brussels sprouts, and definitely some radish. Maybe a horseradish crema of some sort. On the sweet side, I’m thinking about cookies studded with dried apricots and white chocolate, and just this morning (well, I guess it will be yesterday morning when this goes live) I thought about how lovely a thick, densely crumbed chocolate loaf cake – almost fudgy – would be topped with a light frosting, maybe a swiss buttercream or the like, flavored with something unusual. Marmalade, maybe, or ginger. Or tea.

And then of course I have my Chopped Challenge. N. tells me he has the entrée “basket” of ingredients for February worked out, so maybe that’s what I’ll have to share with you next week. Until then, be well, and tell me what you’re loving (or dreaming of) eating!