Rainy Night--Red Lentil Soup

Thursday was an unseasonably warm January day here on the East Coast. The sun warmed my skin during a midday walk, with readings reaching into the upper 40s. Today dawned with the same promise, but as the hours marched on the skies went grey and a steady drizzle set in. So by day's end I was in fact in the perfect mood for a simple, warming soup and bread dinner.

Red Lentil Soup

Serves 8-10

2  yellow onions chopped fine
5-6 cloves garlic minced
1 carrot, peeled, chopped fine
1 tablespoon fresh ginger minced
1 tablespoon ground cumin
1 tablespoon ground coriander 
3 cups red lentils
6-8 cups water
2 cubes chicken broth
1 can San Marzano tomatoes, crushed
1 can chick peas
3-4 handfuls fresh spinach
 2 tablespoons chopped cilantro
2 tablespoons vegetable oil 
salt, pepper 
3-4 tablespoons fresh cilantro sprigs, chopped.

Using a sieve rinse lentils in cold water until it runs clear, set aside.

Heat the oil gently in a large pot, add onions, garlic and carrot and stir until coated with oil. Sprinkle the spices and ginger over the vegetables and saute until onions are translucent and soft, about 4-5 minutes.
Add lentils, and 6 cups of water (add more as needed), broth cubes and tomatoes and stir well.
Simmer for about 25 minutes, under a lid, until the lentils are soft. Check every now and then to see if more water needs to be added. It should be fairly thick in consistency.

Add chick peas and spinach and cook another 5 minutes, adjust seasoning with salt and pepper, finally stirred in some fresh chopped cilantro.
The soup can be kept vegetarian by using vegetable broth. Personally, I prefer the depth of flavor gained by using chicken broth.
I toyed with the idea of serving pappadams or naan, either of which would have been a perfect complement but there was a clamor for panini so I decided to keep the flavors simple: caramelized a red onion in olive oil, piled the onion on day-old crusty bread, added slices of mozzarella, buttered the outside of the bread and stuck it in my panini pan until the outside was golden brown.

The Triumph of Beer?

Not every trip between the same two points need follow the same well-worn path. Thus, this past winter-chilled and overcast trek from Maryland back home to New York veered in a westerly arc heading inland via the little riverside towns of New Hope, PA and Lambertville, NJ  Steeped in history, the hamlets lay nestled side-by-side, hugging either bank of the Delaware River. It was here that George Washington and his troops made their famous icy crossing that fateful Christmas night so many years ago. Luckily, both warfare, and later wrecking balls, spared many of the older 2-story buildings that still line the streets, so beautifully crafted of locally quarried stone with each rounded cobble outlined in light-hued pointing.

Both towns offer a slew of shops and eateries, some better than others, most with a bit of a touristy feel but still worth a visit. Last time I passed through here it was with a 6 month old in my arms, said babe is now a strapping 6' 2" teenager so it was time for a visit.

As we drove north across the iron-beamed span of the Delaware Memorial Bridge and on into southern New Jersey I started reading up on area restaurants.  I tend to peruse Yelp or Chowhound for ideas and reviews. The Triumph Brewing Company in New Hope caught my eye,  located a bit north of the busiest part of town would make finding a parking space less of a hassle, and they boast locally grown organic food as well as microbrews...how could I lose? The menu is posted online, but I don't like to peek ahead too much since, to me, that spoils some of the fun of a new place. I want to settle in, gather in all the smells, sights and sounds, perhaps glance at what's already on the plates of others around me and only then take in what the menu has to offer.

Housed in what was once the storage site of massive rolls of paper for the Union Camp paper bag company, Triumph Brewing occupies an auburn brick warehouse alongside the tracks of the historic New Hope-Ivyland railroad line. Outside the window,  maroon passenger cars were pulled along a by a shiny black locomotive as it huffed and puffed billows of steam and smoke into the frosty air.

Blonde wood steps led us from a big bar downstairs, past the click-clack of pool tables and shiny brew tanks and on upstairs to an open airy dining room.

The menu is pretty standard for  the East Coast with the usual array of salads, soups, burgers and sandwiches, but also some interesting entrees like pork osso bucco and duck tacos. Sadly, I wasn't hungry enough to tackle a big plate of food, besides I had to leave room for the beer...

I usually don't engage in that much personal chit-chat with waiters, but Cory was really mild and unassuming and when he turned around there were the most amazing dread locks. 12 years in the making, he said, and since my oldest is working on a micro set of his own Cory and I discussed the care and maintenance of dreads.

So, back to the food...I settled on the blue cheese, arugula and cranberry panini which was a nice play on cheesy tang, peppery greens and the sweet-tart contrast of cranberries. The bread was crusty and warm, covered with an amalgam of little crunchy grains, cut just the right thickness for non-embarassing bites.

As for the beer...well...I will have to say I was underwhelmed.

Among this flight of six, only one is worthy of a mention. Third from the left is the Winter Bock, light on the palate but with an unexpected subtle depth of burnt wood from a smoked beechwood malt that gave it lingering smokey notes. The rest were flat and thin tasting, even the stout lacked body. So it goes.

Flowers in a Cake--Lavender & Lemon

My dear little Mom just trekked solo across the Atlantic Ocean to visit us for her 85th birthday. To celebrate her we had a lovely luncheon at home---attended by both young and old---of warming lentil soup and a special birthday cake. I've made this lavendar-infused cake a couple of times before, but it seemed not festive enough in its plain and naked state so after giving it some thought I decided to explore the synergy between floral and citrus. 
 Thus we have: Lavender Cake with Lemon Cream Cheese Frosting.  

Had I had been a bit more organized I would be posting step-by-step pictures, but alas, in my haste we made it, served it, ate it, and it wasn't until we were done that I thought to take a picture for posterity (and blogging). 

The batter is interesting and a bit different in that it calls for egg whites but no yolks, nor does it require the whites to be whisked much.

The Cake

Begin by making a lavender syrup of:

1 dl sugar
3/4 dl water
3 tablespoons dried lavender flowers

Mix all the ingredients in a thick-bottomed pot, bring to a boil and then turn down and let simmer 3-4 minute.  Set aside to cool while you make the cake batter.

Cake Batter

 1 and 1/3 stocks (150 grams) butter
2/3 cup (1.5 dl) sugar
 1 cup (2.5 dl) flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon vanilla extract (or 2 teaspoons vanilla sugar)
2/3 cup (1.5 dl) heavy cream
4 egg whites

Melt the butter, add sugar, vanilla and the lavender syrup (I like to keep the flowers in the syrup because they add a nice texture and flavor, but you can also strain the out of the infusion). In a separate bowl mix flour and baking powder. Add this to the butter mix. Lightly whisk the whites and cream and add to other ingredients. 
Bake in a round spring form at 350 F (175 C) for about 30-40 minutes. Test with a toothpick that it is baked through. Remove from oven and let cool completely. Once cool, slice cake into two layers.

Lemon Cream Cheese Frosting

 

 2x 8 oz packages of cream cheese
1.5 sticks butter, softened
4 cups powdered sugar
1-2 teaspoons grated lemon peel
1-2 teaspoons vanilla extract
3 teaspoons lemon juice

In a large bowl, using an electric mixer, beat the cream cheese and butter until light and fluffy
Add sugar, zest, vanilla and lemon juice.

Cool and refrigerate over night. If it seems to slippery when you are frosting the cake, add more lemon juice or sugar to make it easier to spread.

Assemble the cake, putting a nice thick layer of frosting between the layers, then cover the top and sides and finally decorate the cake with whatever you have.  One frosting hint is to repeatedly run hot water on your knife so that the frosting spreads out shiny and flat. And finally, I love the subtle sheen of silvered sugar beads as well as the fact that you can eat metal, but in the summer edible lavender flower, roses, or nasturtiums would be pretty addition too.

"Orange Soup"

As the Fall weather and a cozy darkness creeps upon my little house I get back into the kitchen in earnest. It's just been plain too hot and muggy to cook and blog during the summer.


Making soups, especially non-fussy ones like this is a favorite of mine. Ever since the boys were little this has been a Fall staple. It's one of those nice recipes that you really can't mess up. There are no picky measurements or ratios. It can can be made  fully vegetarian--or even vegan for that matter--as well as with chicken stock. For real intensity veal, or even beef stock, could be substituted but would yield a darker-colored soup. Anyway, the amounts and kind of veggies can be varied with abandon. It's equally tasty with or without potatoes, or you can use butternut squash, or no squash at all, going sweet potato all the way. Which is why we call it "orange soup" as any combination of golden-hued vegetables  go in the pot. It easily morphs into a carrot-ginger variety should you wish. Or, amp it up with cayenne and red pepper flakes. I like to keep it plain the first day and then add curry to the leftovers for lunch the next day turning it into a completely different flavor experience.

ORANGE SOUP

2-3 large sweet potatoes

2-3 potatoes, any variety

1 medium acorn squash

1-2 large carrots

1 red (or yellow) onion

2-3 sprigs of thyme

2 bay leaves

crushed black pepper

6-8 cups of broth (=2 cubes of broth plus water)

 A handful of toasted sunflower seeds

 

Peel the squash, sweet and regular potatoes as well as carrot(s). Roughly chop all the vegetables. Sweat them in olive oil in a large thick-bottomed pot until they soften and start to turn ever so slightly golden. Add fresh or dried thyme, bay leaves, pepper, broth cubes. Give it all a stir then add enough water to cover well.

Again, it's not an exact science. The amount of water dictates how thick your soup will be, so better to put a little too little than too much. After blending it can always be thinned using either water, broth or cream. Cook the vegetable at a high simmer for about 20 minutes. Poke them with a fork or toothpick, if they are soft then it's time to pull out the blender.

Carefully puree it in a food processor (I use my blender, working in batches). Beware of the hot liquid! Transfer to a large bowl and adjust seasoning.

Heat up a small frying and dry-toast the sunflower seeds.

Ladle the soup into pretty bowls and sprinkle the top with the toasted seeds or croutons and perhaps a little sprig of thyme or fennel to add crunch and to make it pretty. Adding a drizzle of olive oil or creme fraiche is a nice touch too.

This is an extremely low calorie soup, thus it cries out for a fairly substantive companion dish. I chose to make goat cheese, prosciutto, baby spinach and basil panini.

Rub a smashed garlic clove across the bread to add fragrance and flavor. Spread some goat cheese onto the bread then add the greens and prosciutto. Sprinkle with salt and pepper, add a drizzle of olive oil and balsamic vinegar.

Grill or fry in butter or oil until crispy golden on the outside and melty-lovely on the inside. Skip the meat and you've got a perfect vegetarian alternative.

Salmon with St. Agur

My Mom, Marianne, likes to say she could eat salmon 5 days a week. And while that might prove to be a bit much even for me, perhaps it’s our Scandinavian genes making themselves heard. 

Nothing is so sad as dry, poorly cooked fish and salmon can be both of those on a bad day. Done right, however, it is a most sensual of fishes: soft, moist and silky, fatty yet gently so in a mild way as opposed to say bluefish or mackerel. Both I, and my boys, love it raw in sushi or as salmon tartar, seared, smoked, salt & sugar cured as we do in Sweden, or fully cooked.

Over the years I’ve tried a few different coatings and cooking techniques that allow the full, moist flavor of the fish to develop. So, in this quest I came up with this one a while back after finding a spreadable blue cheese I’d never seen before. I know that there are those who balk at the idea of cheese and seafood together, but I promise this really works, The distinct salmon flavor plays well off the tang of the cheese. On my last trip to Sweden I was in fact served salmon with chevre hiding in a little pocket inside the filet.  

This recipe requires a minimum number of ingredients and cooks well either on the grill, in the oven, or even stove top in a frying pan. I chose to use my grill. 

Salmon with St. Agur

1 salmon filet (approx.1/3 lb per person)

St Agur cheese (substitute goat cheese if you cannot find it)

Coarsely crushed black pepper

Olive oil

Place salmon skin-side down on an oiled piece of oven foil. Using a spatula or broad flexible knife smear salmon liberally with cheese. Sprinkle with pepper. Place on grill and cook about 10-12 minutes with the lid closed to help distribute the heat. Check for doneness by gently inserting a knife and pushing to the side. You can cook it all the way through, or, as I did leave it a bit raw in the middle.

While the fish was on the grill I made a salad of baby spinach leaves, yellow cherry tomatoes, and crumbled some regular blue cheese on top to tie into the flavor of the fish dish. A tiny dash of salt (because cheeses can be quite salty), pepper, a splash of vinegar and drizzle of olive oil completed the greens.

 

In less than 15 minutes we sat down to eat. Leftovers, what leftovers?

Soba with Asparagus--and the benefits of buckwheat

 The other night it was just me and my oldest man child Max--who has sworn off meat--around for dinner. But, it was a typical hot and muggy July evening, putting me in no mood to labor over a hot stove. And seeing as how I’ve gotten a few requests lately for more vegetarian creations this dish was born.

First a few words on soba noodles. Their dark color comes from the buckwheat flour used to make them. What’s really fascinating about their history is how they gained popularity during the Edo period of Japan when it was discovered that they helped stave off the dreaded neural affliction beri beri. The wealthier portion of the population made polished white rice, which is stripped of most of its nutrients, a staple of their diet. The well-to-do white rice eaters became ill in droves while the poor rural people who ate less refined items, like soba, did not. It turns out that buckwheat is rich in the B-vitamin thiamine which is critical for maintaining neural health.  Even if the actual link to thiamine wasn't understood until much later local soba shops began popping up throughout the neighborhoods of Tokyo.

OK, enough culinary history and on to the recipe...

 Soba can be eaten hot or cold. For many years it was a staple breakfast dish for my boys who liked to start the day off in a savory mode. For this dinner I chose to keep them hot.

Soba noodles with asparagus

Serves 2

1 bundle fresh green asparagus

2-3 scallions, green parts removed, sliced

2-3 tablespoons fresh chopped ginger

2-3 tablespoons sesame terikyaki sauce

2 bundles of soba noodles 

1 tablespoon vegetable oil

Bring water to a boil.

Meanwhile, cut asparagus into ½ inch pieces on a diagonal.

Add oil to a pan, heat top medium, add asparagus.

After 2-3 minutes add scallions and ginger, sauté another 3 minutes until cooked but still crunchy, pull off heat

Cook soba noodles 7-8 minutes , they should still be a dente. The best way to test for doneness is to pull a noodle out and chew on it. Strain the noodles and add to sauté pan, mix well, add teriyaki sauce to coat, and that's it. Simple, fast, inexpensive, nutritious and delicious.

To add a protein I would suggest strips of cooked chicken or shrimp. Or to keep it vegetarian: cubes of firm tofu.

Camilla's Beet Pie and Love

 

During those final tumultuous years of marriage my two main sources of solace and support, the things that kept me sane and grounded, were my family and friends...and food. The loving support part is probably obvious, perhaps not so the food. But to me food is love, and love is food. So, I tried to never lose sight of the pleasure to be found in its beauty and the simple acts of preparing, serving and sharing sustenance with those who hold my heart. 

My annual summer treks to Sweden gave, and still do give me, both: unconditional love and the familiar flavors of childhood, but also tantalizing new recipes served up by someone else. Thus begins the tale of Camilla's beet pie. My nephew Leif and his family live an hour south of Stockholm. Once you've left the big highway the last few kilometers of driving takes you down a gravel road, right through the literal middle of a red painted farm with the farmhouse on one side, the barn on the other. After you've dodged the chickens and Vivi the pony who insists on standing in the middle of the road, you arrive at their sweet little house.

We'd been invited down for swimming and this is what darling Camilla made for lunch, and taught me to make. Some people say beets taste like dirt, and perhaps they do. But, being of the geological bent maybe that's why I find them so tasty. Good dirt. Eaten under the dappled shade of ancient lichen-crusted apple trees.

 

I also learned a few things about this recipe this time around:  white and chioggia beets are so sweet and mild flavored that they got a bit lost in the flavors, and really I missed the bright crimson of Camilla's version. A few tweaks that did work though were adding feta (her original recipe calls for only parmesan), and shallots. Goat cheese might work well too....next time.

The Crust

 Preheat oven to 400 F

3 deciliters regular flour

150 grams very cold salted butter

2 tablespoons ice water

The easiest way to make the crust is to add the flour and butter cut up in little pieces to a food processor. Pulse until oatmeal-like in texture, add the water and form the dough. Avoid working it too much or it will become chewy. It's fine if it has little chunks of butter visible. If you don't have a processo,r use a couple of dinner knives to distribute the butter in the flour and then work it with your hands.

Press dough into pie form and pre-bake for 15 minutes at 400 F.

 Beet Filling

5-6 two inch beets, grated

1 shallot, grated

4 tablespoons of feta, crumbled

1/4 cup parmesan, grated

A sprinkle of Herbamare herb salt & pepper

Mix everything but the Parmesan in a bowl, then put it into the crust. Sprinkle the top with cheese and bake for about 30 minutes at 375 F. That's a  bronze fennel frond from my garden on top. I find this pie tastiest served warm, but cold left overs weren't at all bad as Monday's lunch.