Spinach Provencal

Spinach Provencal

I always liked spinach, but I never knew it could be so exciting until I tried my friend's grandmother Edith's spinach. I was visiting them over the holidays last year, and Edith made a lovely, typically Provencal baked spinach dish that I took several helpings of. It was wow.

What I make may not be a faithful representation of her dish, but this is the best I could remember. It's pretty good, and I don't remember if Edith used any herbs, but I don't. If you have any suggestions on what herbs would go well with this, I'd be glad to hear it!

You need:

tons of spinach (ok, this is about two and a half pounds, or just over a kilo)
1 cup green olives
10 to 12 cloves of garlic
olive oil - 4 tablespoons
salt and pepper (the pepper is buried behind the leaves)
1 and a half tablespoon of flour
1/2 cup of milk (not shown because I forgot)
1 and a half tablespoons of butter

Choose very good green olives that you like. The last time I made this, I didn't really like the taste of the olives I bought, and that effectively decides the taste of the whole dish. Best choose a green olive with a clean sharp saltiness.

First, wash your spinach. Don't put them in a colander and pour water over them; that will not get all the dirt out. Dunk them in small bunches into a large bowl full of water and shake them in the water vigorously, removing roots and red stems if still attached. Pull them out of the water, rinse under running water and put on a large colander.

Put about half and inch of water (in my case that was about 2 cups) in a heavy large pot over high heat. When the water is boiling, sprinkle some salt (half a teaspoon will do) then shove the spinach leaves in. My spinach required a lot of wrestling, but eventually I got it in and clapped on the lid.

After five minutes, open the lid and try to turn over the leaves. The bottom half will already be cooked , so just try to shove the raw leaves down and pull up the cooked ones on top. Put on the lid and wait two or three minutes more.

Remove from the pot and drain. Let water drip from the colander and lightly push the water out.

Give it a rough chop - I chopped it into sections about half an inch wide.

Heat a frying pan over medium heat with two tablespoons of olive oil and sliced garlic. When the oil starts simmering (but the garlic should not be browned) add the chopped spinach, squeezing the water out a little if dripping. You don't have to squeeze very hard, just enough so that it doesn't drip.

Saute for two or three minutes until the garlicky goodness is all over the spinach.

Put the spinach to one side of the frying pan and put the pat of butter and flour in the empty space. Let the butter melt, then mix the two to form a paste.

It doesn't matter if some spinach gets caught in it. Add the milk and stir with an wooden spoon until the paste is more or less dissolved.

Alternatively, if you have bechamel sauce on hand, you can just add about half a cup of that.

Now, mix the spinach in the bechamel sauce until evenly coated. If it seems a bit too dry/tacky/sticky, add a splash of water or milk, a spoon or two at a time. There should be a little liquid left at the bottom of the pan and nothing should be burning or sticking. Sprinkle a little salt - I used a quarter of a teaspoon. The spinach should be under-salted, to balance the strong salt of the olives. Do not over-salt the spinach!

Take the spinach off the heat, add the olives and stir. You can leave the olives whole, slice them or cut them lengthwise as I did - whatever you like. Take a taste and see if the salt is well balanced between the spinach and the olives.

Grease a baking pan with two tablespoons of olive oil. Pour the spinach mixture in and bake in an oven at 375 F for 15 minutes or until bubbly and starting to dry out on the surface. You can also add a few thin slices of toast or baguette on the top to make a crunch. Take care not to let the bread burn.

It goes well as an accompaniment to any meat or fish, but I can have this all by itself as lunch. A baguette and good cheese would make perfect companions.

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Artichoke risotto

Artichoke risotto

Ever since I had my first steamed artichoke with vinaigrette (I'm not talking about the canned stuff found in salad bars here!) I've been mildly obsessed with them. Artichokes aren't to be had in Moscow, but here in New York, they're plentiful, fresh and sometimes inexpensive.

After about three weeks of steaming artichokes, I finally ventured into new territory: artichoke risotto. I've never tried any, and I'm not sure I ever noticed one on a restaurant menu, but I was sure artichokes would be a great addition to risotto, and I combined its rich, slightly quirky flavor with a sharp old Pecorino cheese. Result? Lovely.

Here's what I use:

per person:

1 large artichoke
1/2 medium onion
1 clove garlic
1/2 cup rice (arborio, or sushi rice - short grain white rice, unwashed)
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 cube vegetable (or mushroom) bouillon
1 cup dry white wine
1/4 cup grated Pecorino cheese (plus more for garnish)
sprinkle of salt and freshly grated black pepper
1 lemon

Caution - artichokes are prickly.

Lop off the top; about an inch and a half. Lop off the stem if it's very long; you can leave about an inch on.

Prepare a bowl of water with half a lemon squeezed into it. Artichokes oxidizes rapidly; you will dip it in the lemon water as you work, and keep them submerged until they are ready to cook.

Next, pull back and break off some of the outer leaves - actually petals - about 20 or 30 of them.

Using a vegetable peeler (you can use a knife, but I find it easier with a peeler) peel/scrape away most of the tough outer parts.

You want to take away most of the fibrous green material, and leave just the white parts close to the stem.

This artichoke still needs more work.

Cut that in half - isn't that beautiful?

Dip both halves in the lemon water and leave one of them there, while you scoop out the hairy feathery middle with a (sturdy) teaspoon. You will want all of that pretty purply stuff gone. And be careful, they look pretty but they're very prickly.

Here are the cleaned artichoke halves. You will have far, far more garbage than edible parts. But that's just how artichokes are. Love them or hate them.

Lay the halves face down, and slice into wedges about a quarter of an inch thick.

Submerge in the lemon water again until ready to use.

Finely chop the garlic, dice your onion, and saute in olive oil over medium high heat.

Add the rice and continue stirring, until the rice turns slightly translucent.

Add the artichokes, and turn up the heat as high as it will go and continue tossing and stirring to avoid burning.

When everything is really really hot...

... pour in the wine, all at once. Stir quickly.

If you're feeling very fancy, you can use dry white champagne.

When the wine has almost completely evaporated, add half a cup of water, and crumble in the cube of bouillon. 

Continue stirring and cooking over high heat, adding half cups of water as it evaporated. 

Cook for 15 or 20 minutes, until the rice is still  firm, but not crunchy any more. You want it al dente, not porridge-like. 

Turn off the heat, and sprinkle in the Pecorino cheese and give it a quick stir. Season with salt and pepper to taste. 

You can also add a sprinkle of lemon juice here if you like tart food - I do!

Sprinkle a little more Pecorino on top and serve immediately. It makes a good filling dinner even if it is vegetarian, and goes well with salad of any kind. Just be careful with wine, though, because artichokes have a chemical that change taste perception in your mouth and your wine won't taste the same. 

Enjoy!

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Cream soup with sweet red pepper

Cream soup with sweet red pepper

After spending so many of my vacations (basically all of them the past several years) with my friend and almost sister Catherine, I have picked up not a little of her cooking. This simple yet filling and delicious soup is one she often made for dinner and it was easy to see why - not only is it not too heavy to eat in the evening; it is also very easy to make and for someone always working or studying and the mother of two kids, a quick nutritious meal is a godsend. 

I've changed very little from her soup, except for the substitution of crème fraîche for whatever local variant I have - smetana in Russia and sour cream in the U.S. - speaking of which, not long ago I wrote a whole newspaper column about this dairy product. I've also sprinkled some cheese on top instead of an extra dollop of sour cream - but that is optional.

Here is (some of, since I forgot a few) the cast of characters:

2 extra large sweet red peppers - or 3 large ones

2 medium onions

4 cloves of garlic

1 medium large potato (or in my case, several extremely small ones)

1 cup sour cream (more if you want to top your soup with it) - choose whatever fat content you wish!

1 cube vegetable bouillon (try to find vegetable or mushroom bouillon - the flavor of chicken or beef gives the soup a not only boring but unappetizing generic saltiness)

2 tablespoons olive oil (not shown because I am forgetful)

some shaved Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese for topping - optional (not shown)

salt and pepper to taste (also not shown)

Optional: half a packet of Boursin cheese with garlic and fine herbs for an especially rich velvety soup. 

Roughly chop up the garlic and onions, and saute in olive oil over medium heat until translucent.

Add the roughly chopped potato(es) and roughly chopped peppers and stir well. After a minute or so, put on the lid and continue cooking over medium heat - there should be enough moisture from the vegetables to keep them from burning or sticking to the pot (if not, lower the heat).

You want everything to sweat nicely - stir once every two three minutes, but otherwise keep the lid on and cook until the peppers start to wilt. 

Add a cup of water and the cube of vegetable stock and cook for ten more minutes, or until the potatoes are cooked. 

Lower the heat and add the sour cream or  crème fraîche (or smetana). If using Boursin cheese, add it now. Stick an immersion blender in the pot and puree until smooth. 

If you are using crème fraîche, it will not curdle, but if you are using anything else, it is best to keep things at a very low simmer after this point. Add salt and pepper to taste - I usually add at least half a teaspoon of salt, but it depends on how salty your bouillon cube is. Also, if you add Boursin cheese, that is very salty, so add salt only at the very end. 

Top with the shaved Parmigiano-Reggiano and sprinkle with freshly ground pepper. 

This recipe serves two for a filling meal, or three if no one takes seconds! But better make more than less, because it is delicious and you will want seconds for sure. Serve with a crusty baguette and some cheese and a light green salad. 

You can also replace the red peppers in this soup with some other kind of vegetables - I've tried it with zucchini, pumpkin, green peppers, broccoli, or a mixture of several vegetables. You can also replace the onions with the white parts of leek, or use both the white and green parts for a leek soup. It will doubtlessly be a very fancy and beautiful soup made with asparagus. If using red pepper or pumpkin, you can also add some sun-dried tomatoes for a deeper flavor. 

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Brandade de morue

Brandade de morue

In 2010, on one of many trips to Provence, I spent a few days in Drôme, in the picturesque village of Le Poët-Laval. 

Nestled amongst its steep, twisting cobbled paths in the center, there was a little cafe attached to an old bookstore full of musty old books and curious prints. Sitting at a table on a stone ledge jutting between two narrow paths, we each chose a salad from the four featured on the menu. 

I had never heard of brandade de morue, but Catherine assured me that it is a typically Provencal dish and I would like it. So of course, like any dutiful tourist would do, I said yes. 

Over a mountain of fresh greens and tomatoes, there were four pieces of baguette with a heaping mound of something white. Grilled, the top was slightly browned and filmy, but when I took a bite, the inside was surprisingly fluffy - I wondered if there were egg whites in the strange mousse-like paste. Though slightly fishy, I couldn't put a finger on what kind of fish it might be, nor could I guess what any of the ingredients were. Garlic and cream, for sure. Perhaps potatoes. But what made it so fluffy? And so delicious? 

Brandade de morue, I found out, was a pretty common dish in those parts. Every supermarket carried ready-made brandade de morue, usually in gratin form. I tried it, liked it, but it wasn't the same. There were lumpy potatoes in it, it was a nice gratin, but nothing like the delightful fluffiness I remembered. 

Recreating the dish in Russia where I lived at the time was a laughable endeavor. Not being able to find salt cod, the primary ingredient, I tried substituting it with frozen white fish (it is dubious if it was even cod) and while the resulting white mass was eminently edible, it wasn't what I sought. 

In New York, at last, I found salt cod - sold as stiff slabs in wooden crates crammed with salt. It took me a while to tackle it though -  but fortunately I got it perfect on my first attempt. There's nothing like recreating a taste you had years ago and searched for in vain since then. I was one tired but triumphant cook yesterday! And while I may not make this every day, considering the time and the amount of heavy cream and olive oil involved, I know I now have it in my repertoire and can indulge now and then. 

Here's what I used: (I looked up many recipes on the internet and made up my own)

1 pound salt cod

1/4 small onion

5 garlic cloves

1 pound potatoes

1/2 cup heavy cream

1/4 extra virgin olive oil

(1/4 cup milk, optional)

1/4 dried thyme

3 cloves

1 bay leaf

1/4 salt (add more to taste)

freshly ground pepper

First thing you have to know - salt cod takes from 24 to 72 hours to rehydrate and desalinate. It is so dry and salty, it can be kept for months at room temperature. Put it in a container and cover with plenty of water. Change the water four or five times over the course of a day or three. (Most recipes said either one or three days; I noticed no significant change in the smell or texture or look of the fish after a day, but I did keep it the full three days.) A friend of mine from Nice told me that old ladies in Provence used to prepare this dish by sticking the fish in their toilet tanks. You see, the water needs to be constantly changed, but one might forget, so... the toilet tank changes its water pretty often!

I don't know what's more disgusting, that there is food in the toilet tank or that the toilet will smell of fish.

Fast forward three days: put the fish in a pot, cover with water and put on the lowest heat you can. Do not let it boil. I think it took my pot 15  or 20 minutes to reach a sort of simmer, and I kept it there for 15 minutes more. 

In the meanwhile, finely dice a quarter of a small onion and put it in a pan with cream, garlic cloves (sliced), a laurel leaf, freshly ground pepper, thyme and three whole cloves. Put it on low heat as well - do not let it boil - and simmer, covered, for about 10 minutes or until the onions and garlic are soft. 

Boil your potatoes (I don't care if you cook them with the skin on or dice them or slice them - it doesn't matter) and roughly mash it up.

I think this is kind of pretty. Remove the three cloves (hope you have not lost them) and let cool a bit. 

Drain your salt cod and remove some or most or all of the skin and bones, if you can find any. Roughly shred with a fork. 

In a food processor, put the potatoes, cod and cream mixture. Pulse a few times and scrape down the sides. Pulse a few more seconds until everything is more or less incorporated.

Slowly, bit by bit, add the olive oil. If your brandade de morue looks too chunky and dry, add a bit of milk - I did. 

Salt to taste. The resulting paste should be fluffy and while not a seamless puree, it should be pretty smooth.

You can have it just like that, as a dip to go with a crusty baguette, or bake it in the oven like a gratin. But I went the extra mile to recreate that original dish. 

I put a heaping mound on slices of crusty bread and put it under the broiler for a minute or two. Now, a tip - I remember that the original dish I ate had brandade de morue on the bread so that the bread couldn't be seen from the top. Here's why - when you put it in under the broiler, the bread burns faster than the brandade de morue and you will end up with the smoke alarm going off and charbroiled baguette. Cover your bread from edge to edge with the brandade de morue, or, cover the edges of your bread with aluminum foil. And no matter what, don't turn your back on the oven, even if it is to wash a few dishes. 

Delicious with a fresh green salad. Delicious with a glass of chilled white wine. Delicious at any time of the day or year. 

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Oyakodon - or - chicken and egg rice bowl

Oyakodon - or - chicken and egg rice bowl

 

While I am busy obsessing about cheesecakes involving two and a half pounds of cream cheese ahead of my birthday, I've been cooking 5-minute lunches and dinners. This is one of my mother's favorites, a one-bowl meal full of protein - and costs almost nothing to make! 

I always have eggs in the fridge and some chicken pieces and rice in the freezer so this is usually my choice if I'm out of time and want a quick comforting bite.

The naming of this dish will seem weird if not perverted to you if you are not Japanese. The literal translation of oyakodon would be "parent-child bowl" due to the presence of both chicken and egg in this dish. That admittedly does sound weird in English, and if you can come up with a better naming, I'd be glad to hear it!

Here's the ingredient list (per person)

4 oz (110g) chicken

1/2 a medium or smallish onion

1 large egg

1 scallion for garnish (optional)

1 tablespoon soy sauce

1 teaspoon brown sugar

a bowl of warm rice

Slice the onions into rings a quarter of an inch wide. Slice the chicken into slices of a similar thickness, a bit larger than bite-sized. 

In a small frying pan, pour half a cup of water and add the sugar and soy sauce and warm up over medium heat. Add the onion slices then the chicken, cover and cook until both onions and chicken are cooked through, about 5 minutes.

Taste the sauce and adjust to your liking - some like it saltier, some like it sweeter.

Add the egg to the pan and break the yolk, spreading the whole egg around the pan. You don't have to be too thorough - it doesn't really matter. If your egg is small, you might want to use two. Lower the heat, put the lid on and wait until the egg cooks through.

Some people like their egg more runny, some, like me, prefer it fully cooked. It's up to you, as long as you know your eggs are fresh and safe. 

Over a bowl of steaming rice, spoon the whole omelette-like mass and the sauce. Add a little chopped scallion if you like. In Japan, we usually use mitsuba - a light herb with a green bitterness not unlike celery - but as it is not very common outside Japan, I just add some scallions for color.

Comfort food, Japanese style. Enjoy!

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