Far Afield

DSC_0368As you read this (though not, by the powers of blog scheduling, as I type it), I am time zones away from my usual haunts. This year, as a kind of fiscally irresponsible reward for obtaining and then completing my first year of a full-time, tenure track position as a college professor, N. and I decided to give ourselves a real vacation. We’ve spent the last week or so tooling around the Pacific Northwest, visiting graduate school cronies and spending a tear-worthy 4th of July weekend on the northern Oregon coast (9 people, 4 dogs, board games, infinite cheese platters). Our faces hurt from smiling.

But now we’re traveling with just the two of us, doing the fiscally irresponsible portion across part of an ocean, in Kauai. And I thought, I really did, about getting a post all ready for you, with a recipe and all. But then I thought, well, it IS vacation…

So rest assured, I have a dish planned for us. The photos are all edited. The recipe needs only be proofread. But I’m saving the writing of the post itself for once I return, next week. I’ll need the time for salt and sand and green and waves to instill me with fresh prose. Consider this an inspiration-gathering raincheck.

Grilled Potato and Radish Salad

In the last three years, I have had the incredible good luck of attending a wedding each summer. Two years ago, I had the great honor of making the cake. One year ago, I sobbed as I watched two women legally and joyfully exchange vows, then start perhaps the greatest dance party I’ve ever attended. And this past weekend my eyes welled as the bride – dressed in a frock she designed herself, alternating white and lemon yellow flounces – betrayed just a tiny quiver in her perfect, crimson lips as her sister read a toast: a poem she’d written herself.

Food blog June 2014-3913The poem was about the bride and groom, but it was also about older and younger sisters: the beautiful friend/family/learning relationship they have as they grow up together. It was, there is almost no need to assert, beautiful. Of course it was. It was about the things the girls had weathered, and how the groom had woven his way into their laughter and music, through music of his own. But it was also about what the bride had taught her sister.

Food blog June 2014-3907Sisters learn funny things from each other, and it is disarming and lovely to be allowed to see what things they consider most important. How to read, how to write, how to sing. And, somehow magically, “how to cook radishes.” Until five or six years ago, I’d never given much thought to cooking radishes. To be honest, I hadn’t given much thought to radishes at all. They were just there, all weird and pinkly peppery, flying saucers scattered through the occasional salad, or sharp and pungent and paired with butter and salt.

Food blog June 2014-3910But here’s a funny thing, about radishes, about weddings, about friends and family and learning: as you get older, you get to choose things. Weddings help us construct the families we choose. But so can friendships, and so can an experience like graduate school, and so, oddly enough, can radishes.

Food blog June 2014-3911When N. and I lived in Eugene, Oregon, we decided to grow a garden. It was easy, there. It was a matter of shoving seeds into a spare bit of dirt, and watching them grow. Until the height of summer, it rained so often you barely had to worry about watering. Peas were one of our first crops, and of course we were invested in our tomatoes. But I’d still never considered radishes. Until, at S.’s house, a friend who has now become family, I was handed a french breakfast radish, pulled from her own little vegetable plot minutes before, a pink and while icicle the neighborhood deer had left quite alone. “You can just eat the whole thing,” S. told me, and I did. And the mild crunch, and the crisp, juicy spiciness, all but made me a convert then and there.

Food blog June 2014-3912After that first year of gardening, I always bought a pack of radish seeds. And they will never not make me think of S: razor wit, funny and honest and lovely and brilliant. She’s a willing and gracious hostess, she’s a fantastic cook, and she’s the mom to my own dog-daughter’s canine BFF. She, like the bride and groom this past weekend, like J & HP whose wedding cake I made, the people I can barely wait to spend fourth of July weekend with, is one of that special and cautiously assembled group: the family I chose.

Food blog June 2014-3915And as the fourth of July approaches, and those lovely people you choose to surround yourself with, to learn from, to sing with and read with and cook with, begin to turn their thoughts to potato salad, let me offer a fresh take to consider. This is not your traditional mayonnaise-laden, pickle-and-onion-and-dusted-with-paprika barbecue offering. (If you are after one of those, may I humbly suggest this one?) But I like this different approach, because it is lighter and fresher, because it does not require stove or oven heat, and because it makes me think of S. Tiny fingerling potatoes and plump lipstick red radishes get quartered, salted and peppered and oiled, and grilled until tender and silky. And then a few green onions, just to get a gentle char. Meanwhile, an assertive vinaigrette gets overburdened with herbs and whisked within an inch of its life to be drizzled over a bed of greens. I like arugula. S. would tell you to use the radish greens (but wash them a few times first – they can be really sandy). Potatoes and radishes get tumbled in, and after a quick toss the greens are barely wilted and the dressing soaks into the grilled vegetables like sponges in a bath.

I don’t know if this is how my bride friend’s sister learned to cook radishes. I suspect not. But the point is, those lovely things we learn, and choose, and become, should be shared.

Food blog June 2014-3913

Grilled Radish and Potato Salad, for Sarah.
Adapted from Cuisine at Home
Serves 2 as a main, 4-6 as a side
1 pound radishes, rinsed well, tops and tails removed
1 pound baby potatoes – the smaller the better
4 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 bunch green onions or scallions, root ends trimmed off
¼ cup white wine vinegar or lemon juice
2 teaspoons dijon mustard
2 teaspoons finely minced dill
2 teaspoons finely chopped parsley
salt and pepper to taste
2-4 cups loosely packed arugula, or a combination of arugula and well-rinsed radish greens

 

  • If you are using a gas grill, place a grill tray on the burners and preheat the grill to medium over direct heat. If you are using a charcoal grill, light the coals. As they begin to turn gray, add the grill tray to let it heat up. If you are using an oven, preheat it to 425F with a sheet tray inside.
  • Quarter the radishes and halve or quarter the baby potatoes. You want equal, bite-size pieces – they need about the same amount of time to cook.
  • In a large bowl, toss the potatoes and radishes with 1 tablespoon of the olive oil, and salt and pepper to taste. Transfer them to the preheated grill or sheet tray in a single layer.
  • Grill until tender, 10-15 minutes, agitating as required to prevent burning. If you are using an oven this may take more like 20-25 minutes.
  • Meanwhile, make the vinaigrette: in a large bowl (I use the same bowl as before), whisk the remaining 3 tablespoons olive oil with vinegar, mustard, and herbs.
  • When radishes and potatoes are tender, transfer them to the bowl with the vinaigrette. Add the arugula (and radish greens, if using) and toss to combine.
  • Grill the green onions for 3-5 minutes, until the white bulbs are slightly softened and the greens are nicely charred. Chop and add to the salad, again tossing to combine.
  • Season the salad to taste with additional salt and pepper, if needed, and serve warm or at room temperature.

Chicken Salad on Smashed Avocado Toast

I do a lot of complicated, multi-step recipes here. There are reasons for this, of course. One is that I want to keep things interesting. I mean, there are millions – possibly billions – of “easy” recipes out there, boasting 5 ingredients or less, 10 minutes or less, all pantry or store-bought items, one-pot, you name it. But I figure, how many 5-ingredient-chicken-and-veggie-casseroles does the internet need? If I’m going to cook for you, I want it to be fresh and intriguing. Sometimes that means embracing complexity.

Food Blog June 2014-3758The other, more important reason, is that I want to challenge myself. It’s all very well to master a dish, and I like that. But after a while, I get bored. I need something new, to keep my taste buds and my fingers and my mind nimble. I chose to become a professor, which means I work to teach. But I couldn’t have embarked on this career without being a bit of an eternal student, which means I want to learn. That’s why I do these annual projects here – exploring dough, whisking away at a sauce a month. To keep myself enthralled and improving, I have to tackle new challenges.

Food Blog June 2014-3731These challenges find their way to you, most of the time, after some finagling and practicing. Usually I get an idea, fiddle with it, add and subtract and mess and annotate, and out comes a recipe that I post here. It’s not often that I throw together some depth-of-the-fridge ingredients and produce something I consider blogworthy.

Food Blog June 2014-3734But “not often” isn’t the same as never. A few weeks ago, as a heat wave rendered Los Angeles practically immobile (or maybe that was just my un-air-conditioned living room), I dragged myself to the kitchen to (I hoped) find something reasonably delicious to throw together for dinner that didn’t involve the oven or the stove. Great expectations, no?

Food Blog June 2014-3741What we ended up with was a dinner that made our eyebrows climb, and almost immediately we were thinking about when we would have it again. And as sometimes happens, it was just what I had, layered together into something great. Chicken salad. Toast. Avocado smashed with extravagant quantities of lemon juice and raw garlic. Layered and mounded into an open-faced sandwich as at home on a picnic blanket as on your dining room table. So bright and fresh! Satisfying but so light and summery! And, if you have had the presence of mind to make your chicken salad the day before (or, if you’ve got a deli you love, bought some), assembly requires all of five minutes with minimal application of heat. Oh, and if you find yourself in need of a way to use up some homemade mayonnaise, this is your salad.

Food Blog June 2014-3743This is a summer dinner you need to make. And then make again. Because really, complexity is fun, but sometimes simple is just right.

Food Blog June 2014-3750A few extra thoughts: the lemon and garlic smashed avocado is currently my food crush. It’s great with the chicken salad, but it would also be spectacular (and really quite aesthetically lovely too) underneath thin slices of hard boiled egg or smoked salmon. Or, you know, just plain on toast. Or to dip chips into. Or a spoon.

Food Blog June 2014-3747I’m also thinking you could quarter your toast slices, or even cut them into long, skinny toast soldiers, before loading them up, to make sweet tea sandwiches or easy hors d’oeuvres for a bridal or baby shower.

Food Blog June 2014-3753Finally, and this is not about chicken salad or avocado, if you have an iPhone, you should ask Siri “What does the Fox say?” Then you should ask her again. It could well be that I’m the last person on the planet to know about this, but still. You’re welcome.

Food Blog June 2014-3763

Chicken Salad and Smashed Avocado toasts
Serves 4
Much about this recipe is to your liking. More or less mayonnaise, more or less salt, a few extra grinds of pepper, a squeeze or two less lemon juice – use your taste buds and find out what you like best. These are suggested quantities that we found we liked enough to want to tell you about it almost immediately.
For the chicken salad:
4 boneless skinless chicken breasts, patted dry
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon pepper
⅓ cup finely sliced green onions (from 3-4 green onions)
⅓ cup celery, stalks halved or quartered lengthwise, then finely sliced (from 1-2 stalks)
2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh dill
2 teaspoons lemon zest
2 teaspoons Dijon or whole grain mustard
2 tablespoons roughly chopped capers
¼ cup mayonnaise, or to taste (for us, 6 tablespoons, or ¼ cup plus 2 tablespoon, ended up being perfect)

 

  • Preheat the oven to 350F.
  • Use 1 tablespoon of the olive oil to grease a 9×9 inch square baking dish.
  • Sprinkle the chicken breasts with the salt and pepper on both sides, then nestle them into the pan in a single layer. Drizzle the remaining tablespoon of olive oil over the chicken.
  • Bake for 45-60 minutes or until juices run clear and flesh reaches an internal temperature of 165F. You know, fully cooked chicken. Remove from oven and cool completely.
  • While the chicken cools, assemble and prep the other ingredients. Place the green onions, celery, dill, lemon zest, mustard, and capers in a large bowl and toss together with a fork.
  • When the chicken is cool, shred or cube it. I prefer my chicken salad shredded. To do this, place one chicken breast on a cutting board or a plate. Stab two forks, backs facing each other, into the chicken and pull them away from each other to shred it. Or, if you prefer, stab the chicken with one fork and hold it stationary, while you drag the other fork through the meat to create shreds. See photos above.
  • Add the cooled, shredded (or cubed) meat to the bowl with your other ingredients.
  • Add the mayonnaise and toss with the chicken and vegetables to combine thoroughly. Taste for seasoning, and adjust as desired. Be careful, though: the smashed avocado gets salt of its own, so don’t overdo it on the sodium here unless you are a salt fiend.

 

For the toasts:
8 slices sourdough bread (2 slices per person; thick sliced would be lovely)
2 whole avocados
2 tablespoons lemon juice
¼ teaspoon black pepper
4 cloves garlic
½ teaspoon coarse salt
Handful of arugula or spinach leaves, optional

 

  • Toast your bread in a toaster or under the broiler until nicely golden. While it toasts, halve your avocados, remove the pits, and put the flesh in a small bowl. Add the lemon juice and pepper.
  • Peel and finely chop your garlic cloves. When they are well minced, sprinkle them with the ¼ teaspoon coarse salt. Using the flat of your knife, drag it across the garlic and salt, applying firm pressure. The idea here is that the salt will act as an abrasive, breaking down the garlic into a paste to make it less aggressive (biting into a chunk of raw garlic is an adventure, but not always a fun one), and to help it integrate more easily into the avocado. Repeat until the garlic becomes a pulpy, juicy paste.
  • Scrape the salted garlic paste into the avocado bowl, and smash the ingredients together with a fork into a chunky green mass. Delicious. Taste for seasoning and adjust to your liking, remembering that the acidity will be cut a bit when you add the toast and chicken salad components.
  • To build these open-face sandwiches, for each slice of toast, spread a few tablespoons of smashed avocado all the way out to the edges, scatter a few fresh arugula or spinach leaves over it, if desired, and then spoon ¼ – ½ cup chicken salad on top in an even layer.
  • That’s it! Serve up. Enjoy.

Smoked Salmon Ravioli with Leek Pesto Cream

Call it my literary background, but I love a good origin story. When random thoughts occur, I like to trace them back through my train of thought to see what the sequence was (why did I just think of that bartender in Eugene? I was considering more efficient ways to load the dishwasher just a few seconds ago!). Ask me sometime about one of my nicknames for our dog. You’ll see what I mean. This spills over into my cooking as well. I suppose if I were a real writer, I’d resist or deny the question “where do you get your ideas?” as so many of them do (although some do answer the question, in wonderful and terrifying ways).

Food Blog November 2013-2776So I like to take you back where I came from. In this case, we’re going back to a tired, tired late afternoon in August. N. and Lucy and I had started the day in Brookings, OR, wound our way down the beautiful stretch of Highway 101, twisting through dusty redwoods, pastoral dreamland, and ragged juts of ocean cliffs. In the parking lot of a grocery store in Fort Bragg, we decided enough was enough. We just weren’t going to make it to the Bay Area that night. It was time to call the driving day finished.

Food Blog November 2013-2764Food Blog November 2013-2767Food Blog November 2013-2768We found ourselves a restaurant with a view of the ocean and ordered what sounded like amazing entrees. At the ha-ha-we-got-you-you-tourist prices, they should have been amazing. They were… fine. N.’s dinner, which is of most import here, was a plate of smoked salmon ravioli, dull and a bit tough, sputtering and drowning in a heavy, almost alfredo-style sauce. I had to fix them. (I had, in case you’re wondering, a hunk of unevenly crusted halibut, teetering over a tangle of roasted, balsamic drenched vegetables. It has promise as well… consider it in progress…)

Food Blog November 2013-2771This, then, is what resulted. A mundane, heavy plate of pasta became a rich, vibrant, tangy blend of smoked salmon, dill, and cream cheese sealed in won ton wrappers (I’m all for from scratch, but in a weekend when at least two dozen papers had to get graded, I decided I was okay with using a shortcut stand-in for homemade pasta dough). To replace the thick, gloppy alfredo of the summer, I spooned on a tangy, barely creamy sauce overloaded with herbs and sautéed leeks, that fell somewhere between a pesto and the kind of white wine and cream sauce you’d toss with spaghetti and clams. (Note to self: spaghetti and clams would be spectacular here!)

Food Blog November 2013-2772I stopped at 24 ravioli, each one loaded with a spare ½ tablespoon of filling, but had enough smoked salmon mixture left that I could have easily made 36. I figured we would each eat 12, but they were so rich and lovely that, particularly with a piece of garlic rubbed toast on the side, you could probably get away with serving 8 to each diner. You will have enough sauce for the full 36, if not more.

Food Blog November 2013-2775This dish is, perhaps, better suited for spring, bursting as it is with fresh herbs and buttery leeks and the pinks and greens of new growth. But it’s so good, so perfectly silky and creamy and fresh and tangy, that I think you should make it anyway.

Food Blog November 2013-2780

Smoked Salmon Ravioli with Leek Pesto Cream
Serves 4-6
For ravioli:
⅓ cup finely diced shallot (about 1 medium)
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons butter
8 ounces smoked salmon
8 ounces (1 cup) cream cheese, at room temperature
1 tablespoon chopped fresh dill
1 egg, lightly beaten
1 tablespoon heavy cream
Won ton wrappers, round or square (twice as many as the number of raviolis you want) or fresh pasta dough
¼ cup or so warm water, for sealing the ravioli

 

For sauce:
1 large leek
2 tablespoons butter
½ cup dry white wine (be sure you like the flavor – you will definitely taste it)
¼ cup fresh parsley
¼ cup fresh dill
¼ cup fresh basil leaves
1 garlic clove
¼ cup pine nuts, toasted if you wish
½ cup heavy cream

 

  • To make the raviolis, heat 2 tablespoons of butter in a small pan over medium heat. When it has melted, add the shallot and garlic and cook, stirring frequently, until they become translucent. You don’t want them to brown, you just want to sweat them gently to remove the rawness. When they are tender, turn the heat off and let them cool.
  • While the shallots and garlic cool, mix together the cream cheese, smoked salmon, 1 tablespoon dill, egg, and 1 tablespoon heavy cream in a mixing bowl. A fork or a spatula works well. Combine into a fairly homogenized mixture, though you will still have chunks of salmon, which is fine. Once the shallots and garlic have cooled, add them to the salmon mixture.
  • To form the raviolis, set up an assembly line: salmon mixture on one end, then won ton wrappers on a cutting board, then a small bowl of warm water, and finally a cookie sheet dusted lightly with flour.
  • Top one won ton wrapper with a scant ½ tablespoon of salmon mixture right in the center. Using your fingertip, dampen the outer edge of the wrapper with the warm water, then place a second won top wrapper on top. Press the edges to seal with your thumbs and forefingers, working air bubbles out so you just have a solid lump of filling in the center. I like to match up the poles of each wrapper – the very top and very bottom – so they are flush, then press together the sides simultaneously, one with each thumb and forefinger pair. As you complete each ravioli, place in a single layer on the floured cookie sheet.
  • When you have a full tray (I wouldn’t put too many more than a dozen on each sheet; you want them all touching the flour and not touching each other too much, or they will stick), refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.
  • Once the raviolis have had at least 30 minutes in the fridge, all that remains is to heat a large pot of salted water to a rolling boil and drop them in. They are done when they float to the top, which only takes 3 or 4 minutes. Remove them with a slotted spoon (they are too delicate to pour into a colander) and add them to the sauce.
  • While the ravioli are chilling, make the sauce. Cut off the root end and the dark green leaves of the leek. Slice the remaining log lengthwise, leaving two long rounded planks as in the photo above. Run these planks under running water, flipping through the layers with your thumbs, to release dirt. Then cut each plank in half lengthwise again, and slice horizontally across into thin ribbons.
  • In the same pan you used to cook the shallot and garlic, heat the remaining 2 tablespoons of butter over medium heat. Once it has melted, add the leeks and cook for 5-8 minutes, stirring frequently, until the leeks are tender and smell garlicky and sweet.
  • Add the wine and simmer 3-5 minutes. Season with salt and pepper and turn off the heat, letting the leek and wine mixture cool slightly.
  • While the leeks and wine cool, add the parsley, dill, basil, garlic clove, and pine nuts to a food processor. Pulse in 2 second bursts 5 or 6 times, or until everything is finely chopped and paste-like. Add the cooled wine and leek mixture and process until only very fine pieces remain.
  • As soon as you drop the raviolis into the boiling water, warm the cream in the pan you used for the leeks and wine. When it reaches a bare simmer, add the leek and wine mixture back into the pan and stir to combine with the cream. Heat through. Season to taste, if needed, with salt and pepper.
  • To serve, swirl the raviolis gently with the sauce. If the sauce is too thick for your liking, add a ladle of pasta water to thin it just a touch.