Taste Memories

Lunching

Whenever possible, I like to take my lunch at home. Sometimes it is worth waiting an extra hour or two if it means settling down to a simple but civilized repast, rather than choking down the limp lettuce and cardboard chicken salad the café in our building charges $7 for. But often my schedule won't allow for this luxury, in which case packing my lunch is well worth the trouble. The lunches I pack for myself are invariably cheaper, more wholesome, and far more delicious than anything I can buy around school.

Often, I will make a big batch of soup on the weekends, and enjoy it for lunch throughout the week (thank to my investment in a sturdy wide-mouthed thermos). Many of my favorite soups have already been featured on this blog, but I've also recently become enamored with an andouille, lentil, tomato, and kale soup that I plan to blog about soon. It is a lovely balance of smoky, sweet, and savory flavors, and it's the kind of substantial soup that keeps me going all afternoon long.

Sandwiches can, of course, be excellent for lunch, but by the time I've schlepped a sandwich to school, it's bound to have altogether lost its distinction, and has often become downright mushy. So instead, I go in for salads in a big way. Oftentimes, I need nothing more than some tender greens, a creamy-centered hard-boiled egg, and a judiciously seasoned dressing to keep me happy.

But for something a little more elaborate, I like this quinoa salad. It's nutty (from the quinoa), fresh (from the lemon), fragrant (from the herbs), and a little spicy (from the smoked paprika). It could hardly be more nutritious. It's also a very movable feast – you could experiment with bulghur or brown rice instead of the quinoa, and feel free of course to use lime or a good red wine vinegar instead of the lemon. Play around with the spices, and substitute any vegetables you fancy instead of (or in addition to) the cucumber. I've even omitted the shrimp for vegetarians, and added a handful of green grapes, to good effect.

With a few tupperwares of this salad packed tidily away in the fridge, I'm really rather looking forward to Monday. After all, whose day isn't immensely improved by the solace of a good lunch?

 

Quinoa Shrimp Salad

Ingredients:

1 cup quinoa

1 tbsp olive oil

1lb shrimp, peeled and deveined

1 tsp salt

1 tsp smoked paprika

1 cucumber, diced

¼ cup slivered almonds

½ cup feta, crumbled

Juice of 2 Meyer lemons (regular will do too)

Zest of 1 Meyer lemon (ditto)

A few handfuls arugula and/or a few handfuls of suitable herbs (basil, mint, and/or flat-leaf parsley would all play well here)

 

Method:

Cook the quinoa according to the packet directions (usually, you add double the volume of water to quinoa, bring it to a boil, and simmer for 10-15 minutes).

Add the olive oil to a large skillet or wok over high heat. Add the shrimp, salt, and smoked paprika, and sauté for a minute or so, or until the shrimp is just pink.

Combine the remaining ingredients with the warm quinoa in a large bowl. Add the shrimp and any cooking juices, and toss to combine.

Serves 4, or makes a week of lunches.

Voting with my Mouth

As an Australian expat, I can't vote in this election. It's hard to feel so invested in a political event that you're unable to shape in any way. In lieu of voting, I decided to make a special lunch to eat while pointlessly refreshing this website, even though the first polls don't close for four hours. It is a salad featuring arugula, which I've made no secret of adoring on this blog (much as with its most recent unwitting proponent.)

In truth, I've been plotting making this since Fall began, and just haven't gotten around to it. The idea came to me while walking home one day, musing on spaghetti carbonara (as one does). In case you're not familiar, the dish is a mélange of eggs, bacon, cream, garlic, and cheese, served over pasta. What's not to love? Well, yes… in theory. But in practice, the dish feels gummy and heavy and cloying and altogether too much. It's a belly-ache in a bowl, quite frankly. So I wondered if I could retain the basic carbonara flavor palette while lightening the whole affair and introducing some contrast by using bitter, delicate arugula leaves in place of the spaghetti.

Mis en place: pancetta, arugula, garlic, bread, parmesan, eggs, fleur de sel, red wine vinegar.

I'm happy to report that the experiment was a smashing success. When you serve this, the crispy-edged, soft-bellied fried egg's yolk will ooze gently over the salad, wilting the tangy arugula, and enveloping the salty, chewy pancetta lardons. When the pile of arugula (rapidly) dwindles, the diner will discover a piece of garlicky bread at the bottom of the bowl, lightly moistened with an additional benediction of the now yolk-enriched salad dressing. I can't recommend this enough for brunch, lunch, or supper.

Arugula Carbonara

Ingredients:

A large handfuls of baby arugula

1 egg

3oz thick-cut pancetta (about ½ inch thick, if possible)

1 clove of garlic

1-2 pieces of good, crusty bread

Parmesan cheese

 

For the dressing:

1 ½ tbsp good red wine vinegar

1 tbsp good extra virgin olive oil

A good grinding of fresh black pepper

A tiny pinch of good salt

 

Method:

Cut the pancetta into lardons (about ½ inch cubes).

Place a large skillet over high heat, and fry the lardons until they are crisp and golden (about 10 minutes).

Meanwhile, rub the bread with the cut clove of garlic, and toast.

Remove the pancetta lardons from the skillet with a slotted spoon, and drain well on paper towels.

Now turn the heat down to medium, and mince the leftover garlic clove.

Add the eggs and the garlic to the skillet, and let them fry in the bacon fat.

Remove the garlic after a minute or so; add it to the dressing ingredients, and whisk to combine. Adjust the dressing for seasoning and acidity.

In a small bowl, toss the arugula with the dressing.

When the fried egg's white is set but the yolk is still runny, you're ready to serve.

To serve, layer the toast, dressed arugula, lardons and fried egg in a clean, shallow bowl. Shave a few curls of parmesan cheese over the top, and serve immediately.

Serves 1, but multiply as desired.

Fennel Bender

You could be forgiven, dear reader, for taking me to be a secret agent from the National Fennel Grower's Association (there must be such an association, right?) For, in this blog's short life, I have already featured two (make it three) salads featuring fennel as a key ingredient. But I can't help myself, so dearly do I love fennel. It's such an elegant and surprising vegetable, with a taste somewhere between celery and licorice. It's a delicious oddity. Do try it, if you haven't already.

This salad is more than just a vehicle for fennel, however; it is also a lovely way to use up Smitten Kitchen's divine slow roasted tomatoes, which I plan to make all winter long (they're toothsome even when the tomatoes you start from aren't anything to write home about). The resulting marriage of textures is a thing to behold - chewy oven-dried cherry tomatoes, crisp fennel, slippery edamame, and yielding mozzarella. The basil and lemon zest (in the dressing) render the whole affair superbly fragrant to boot. It occurs to me that this is a fantastic recipe for those of us missing summer (or at least summer cuisine), since it conjures up the taste of the season without relying too heavily upon its now dwindling produce.

Edamame, Slow-roasted Tomatoes, Mozzarella, and Fennel Salad

Ingredients:

1 ½ cups edamame, cooked and cooled (other beans would also work well here, I suspect)

½ cup slow roasted cherry tomatoes (I roasted each punnet of cherry tomatoes with 1 tbsp olive oil and ½ tbsp kosher salt for 3 hours at 225˚F)

1 blob of fresh mozzarella (about 4oz), torn

½ cup fennel, finely chopped

A handful of small basil leaves

 

For the dressing:

1 tsp good extra virgin olive oil

1 tbsp red wine vinegar

Zest and juice of 1 lemon

A small pinch of good salt

A large pinch of red pepper flakes

 

Method:

Combine the salad ingredients, whisk the dressing ingredients, and toss together.

Serves 2 as a light lunch.

P.S. I know I'm onto a good thing when Amelia and Freddy take it in turns to sniff it out.

Amelia avec salad.

Freddy avec salad.

Smoked

I am a sucker for all things smoked. Over just the past few months, I've devoured smoked salmon (cold-smoked and hot-smoked), smoked trout, smoked scallops, smoked oysters, smoked chicken, smoked duck, smoked turkey, and smoked chiles (chipotles). My goodness! It's a wonder my gullet isn't ashen by now. But my favorite of all these delicious comestibles is smoked mackerel. Its dank, buttery flesh deserves widspread recognition, but I've never seen it on a menu anywhere. A strange state of affairs, methinks: deplorable, even. Thus, I offer you this homely but delicious smoked mackerel salad. Wrapped up in sprightly young butter lettuce leaves, it makes a perfect light lunch or snack.

Smoked Mackerel Salad

Ingredients:

6oz smoked mackerel, de-skinned and flaked
2 tbsp mayonnaise
1 tsp dijon mustard
1 tsp chardonnay vinegar
1 tbsp capers
1 rib celery, finely chopped
1 scallion, finely chopped
1 tbsp dill, snipped

Butter lettuce leaves, for serving

Method:

Mix all the salad ingredients together, and then deposit small clumps of the resulting mixture on the lettuce leaves.

Serves 2 as a light lunch.

P.S. This salad also makes a tasty sandwich filling, preferably on dark rye.

Cultural and Culinary Stereotypes: A Case Study

I’ve had Mexican food exactly twice in my life. In all fairness, I’ve only lived in Melbourne, Australia (where there is very little Mexican food) and Boston (where there is very little good Mexican food, or so I hear). All the same, I remain hugely ignorant on the subject of Mexican cuisine, much to my chagrin. So what am I doing posting this vaguely Mexican-looking recipe here?

This dish, I confess, represents my stereotype of Mexican food – the mental paradigm which I wish to alter and ultimately displace. For, much like Americans who invariably associate Australian culture with Crocodile Dundee and Steve Irwin, I invariably associate Mexican food with cilantro, lime, avocado, and black beans. In truth, the former stereotype irks me no end. There’s only so many grim smiles in response to the tired old ‘that’s not a knife, this is a knife’ chestnut that one’s cheek muscles can successfully pull off. Moreover, as someone who studies and teaches moral philosophy, I can assure you that there are few comparisons less flattering or conducive to one's would-be scholarly authority than the comparison with Steve Irwin (R.I.P.). It's hard to hold forth on Plato after one's students have inquired as to one's crocodile-hunting credentials. No wonder my accent is undergoing a seismic shift.

 

It is my hope that the consumption of this dish will set me free to go in search of authentic and interesting Mexican food, thus exorcising a (doubtless inaccurate) culinary stereotype. But what a tasty exorcism it was, and how often can you say that?

Pulled Pork Salad

 

Ingredients:

 

For the pulled pork: (adapted from this recipe)

1.5 lb pork tenderloin

½ cup red wine vinegar

¼ cup water

2 tbsp chipotles in adobo

2 tbsp agave nectar

2 tsp kosher salt

1 tsp mapuche spice

A pinch of red pepper flakes

 

For the avocado crème:

1 avocado

2 tbsp sour cream (I used light, which was fine)

Juice from 1 lime

A pinch of salt

For the salad:

1 punnet cherry tomatoes, halved

1 cucumber, peeled and sliced (preferably with a mandolin)

A large handful of cilantro, finely chopped

3 scallions, finely sliced

1 can black beans, drained and thoroughly rinsed

Juice from 1 lime

 

Method:

 

First, make the pulled pork. To do this, cut the pork tenderloin into large (about 2 inch) chunks. Then, combine the remaining ingredients for the pulled pork in a Dutch oven over high heat, and bring the mixture to a boil, stirring to combine.

 

Add the pork pieces, cover, and turn down the heat to low. Simmer for about 1 hour, until the pork is very tender.

 

Meanwhile, make the avocado crème by mashing the avocado flesh with the remaining ingredients, and adjusting for seasoning and acidity.

 

When the pork is done, shred it with two forks, and return it to the cooking liquid to moisten it.

 

Combine all the salad ingredients in a large bowl. Top with the pulled pork, and the avocado crème.

 

Serves 4 as a main.

Weekend Eats, in Pictures

Heirloom tomatoes, basil, and squash blossoms from Union Square Farmer's Market.

Heirloom tomato closeup: green zebras, stripy Russians, Italian Genovese, and cherry tomatoes.

Assorted (but unpictured) treats: battered squash blossoms stuffed with ricotta and agave nectar; peaches with Greek yoghurt, honey, and pistachio dust; corn picked that very morning; beef bourguignon and mash; edamame succotash (recipe below).

What a weekend.

Edamame Succotash

Ingredients:

 

½ cup shucked edamame, cooked and cooled

½ avocado, sliced

1 corn cob’s worth of corn kernels (I like to take mine off a leftover grilled cob so as to add a smoky punch to the salad; but boiled would be fine too)

A handful of cherry tomatoes, halved

A handful of cilantro

A handful of mint

For the dressing:

Juice of 2 limes

1 tbsp good extra virgin olive oil

2 scallions, minced

A pinch of good salt

Method:

 

Combine the salad ingredients attractively in a bowl; whisk up the dressing and pour it over them, making sure to get plenty on the avocado (the lime juice will stop it from browning). Toss gently to combine.

 

P.S. As the ingredient list suggests, this salad is basically a deconstructed guacamole. Thus, if I have any leftovers, I often blitz them in a blender and enjoy the results as a dip.

Delia Smith's Tunisian Aubergine Salad, Redux

 

The aim of this blog is primarily to post original recipes (well, insofar as any recipe is original – if the recipe is worth blogging about, it’s likely to owe to numerous things I’ve read, and then forgotten I’ve read, over the years). This decision was born out of necessity: I am terrible at following recipes. I like reading about various flavor combinations, but then I tend to willfully go my own way in the preparation. This is part of the reason that I’m a lazy and lousy baker. (Despite that, we’re making our own wedding cake. Eek. Methinks we’ll be constantly on the phone to my wonderful Mother-in-Law-to-be, who’s a master baker, during wedding baking week!)

Anyway, as the title of this post suggests, I am about to offer you a recipe that didn’t originate with me. But I think I’ll occasionally post existing recipes that I’ve adapted significantly. I don’t mean adaptations like substituting scallions for shallots, because that’s all I had in the crisper – but rather recipes where I took the author’s basic idea, and reworked it in a way that better suits my tastes, inclinations, or (in this case) my level of patience.

This brings me to a woman who’s frequently tested my patience: Delia Smith, the iconic British cookbook writer. I have a deeply ambivalent relationship with Delia. On the one hand, watching her cooking show on Australian television as a kid augmented my interest in cooking tremendously. When my Mum subsequently bought me How to Cook, I read it almost obsessively. When I was learning my way about the kitchen, I was grateful for her detailed instructions, and precise measurements. In fact, there are many culinary tasks I still instinctively do Delia’s way in consequence.

On the other hand, her detailed instructions and precise measurements now tend to irritate the hell out of me. In baking, sure, measure measure measure: I know, I know. But watching my Mother make Delia’s bubble and squeak was an eye-opener. A British dish that’s supposed to be thrown together out of leftovers (mashed potatoes and cabbage primarily) took over an hour to make, since you had to weigh everything (even the parsley) down to the ounce, and grate everything by hand. Come on, Delia: surely this is false precision.

Typically, a recipe that specifies (say) a handful of parsley is much more endearing to me than one that specifies (say) 2.764 oz of parsley. For one thing, I can eyeball a handful at the store and at home, whereas I rarely have a clue what an ounce of something looks like. For another, I can use a little more or less parsley depending on how I want the dish to taste, and how much I happen to have in the house. And let’s be honest: in the majority of dishes, a little more or less parsley won’t make a whole lot of difference.

Anyway, despite the aforementioned complaints, I’ve made Delia’s recipe for Tunisian Aubergine Salad many a time (she adapted it herself from Elizabeth David, but I’ve never found the original recipe). The dish is wonderful melange of the spicy, the sweet, and the savory, and is one of my favorite vegetarian dishes (it’s actually vegan if you skip the final benediction of yoghurt). But, predictably, making it is such a palaver. Having to salt the aubergines (called eggplants over here), skinning the tomatoes, and toasting and grinding the spices is quite bad enough. But letting the whole thing sit in the fridge while you wait, wanly and hungrily, for at least 24 hours? Torture. I had the feeling that I could create something just as good with far less fuss. Happily, I was proved correct. I practically licked the plate clean.

Ingredients:

 

2 large eggplants, or 3 small/medium ones (I used oriental eggplants)

2 large tomatoes, or 3 small/medium ones

1 onion (I used red), diced

2 teaspoons ras el hanout

3 tsp olive oil (= 1 tbsp, divided use)

A handful fresh cilantro, rough-chopped

A handful fresh mint, rough-chopped

Kosher salt

For the harissa yoghurt (optional but good):

2 tbsp Greek yoghurt (I used Fage 0% fat)

½ tsp harissa (or to taste)

A small pinch of good salt

Method:

 

Preheat the oven to 450°F (230°C).

Chop the eggplant into bite-sized cubes. Toss them about in a teaspoon of the olive oil and give them a rather generous sprinkle of salt.

Halve or quarter the tomatoes, and brush them with an additional teaspoon of the olive oil and sprinkle them with some more salt.

Place the eggplant and tomatoes (cut-side up) on a non-stick or lightly oiled baking sheet, and roast for about 30 minutes, or until they are soft and becoming caramelized.

Meanwhile, combine the ingredients for the harissa yoghurt (if you’re making it), and adjust for seasoning.

Then, put a pan over medium heat, and slick it with the remaining teaspoon of olive oil. Add the onion, the ras el hanout, and a pinch of salt. Sauté until the onions are soft.

Then, stir in the tomatoes and eggplants (stir gently – you want the tomatoes to give off enough juice to make the dish cohere, but you want the wedges to retain their integrity.)

When the mixture reaches a gentle simmer, remove the pan from the heat, and stir in the herbs. Taste, and adjust for seasoning.

Add a dollop of the harissa yoghurt (if you’re using it). Now, eat this immediately, if not sooner.

Serves 2-3.

 

A bit of context: I ate this with some lovely marinated anchovies on the side. Highly recommended if you’re not a vegetarian! It's also terrific with a fried or hard-boiled egg on top.

P.S. This, I submit, is How to Cheat. Chocolate cake made with discs of frozen mashed potato (scroll halfway down the page for the recipe), I fear, is not. What on earth were you thinking, Delia? You nearly made me cry.

The Coleslaw Sandwich Principle

 

When my little sister was about six, there weren’t too many vegetable dishes that she ate readily. The primary exception was coleslaw, which my Mother discovered she loved.

Thus, my Mother – always understandably keen to get us to eat our vegetables – began to pack Lucy off to school with a coleslaw sandwich almost every day. Early during this period, I remember Lucy grabbing her lunchbox with enthusiasm. I think this lasted about a week. Then poor Lucy began to look less and less enthusiastic each morning, so deeply sick had she become of coleslaw sandwiches. She took a long time to tell my Mother, though – I gather she didn’t want to disappoint her, especially since Lucy’s supposed partiality for coleslaw had become family lore by then.

This brings me neatly to what I have consequently dubbed the coleslaw sandwich principle: even if you love a dish or ingredient (in fact, maybe especially if you love it), don’t eat it too frequently. I’ve unwittingly ruined numerous perfectly good foodstuffs for myself by flouting these guidelines. Peanut butter, tuna, gelatin-based desserts, sushi, ricotta cheese, turkey slices, walnuts – all spoiled for me by periods of reckless overuse. I can barely look at a jar of peanut butter anymore, and forget Reese’s pieces. It’s sort of sad.

There is one ingredient, however, to which the coleslaw sandwich principle does not apply: mayonnaise. I make my own almost every week, and also keep an emergency supply of Wholefoods’ excellent organic stuff in the fridge (I’m not a big fan of Hellman’s, though. It’s too sweet for me.) Anyway, no matter how frequently I consume mayonnaise, I never get sick of it – the only reason I pull back is for considerations calorific. So I made this slaw with a mayonnaise-based dressing to celebrate both the coleslaw sandwich rule, and the one crucial exception to it. I thoroughly enjoyed the results, but duly stopped myself going back for seconds.

Shrimp Slaw

Ingredients:

 

1 tsp olive oil

1lb raw shrimp, peeled and de-veined

1 head of cabbage

1 bunch of radishes

1 large cucumber, peeled

Kosher salt

For the dressing:

½ cup mayonnaise

½ cup half-and-half (I used fat-free, and it was fine)

1 tbsp tarragon

1 tbsp chardonnay vinegar

2 scallions

A pinch of good salt

1 tsp sugar (optional, and I didn’t include it because I dislike sweet salad dressings. You can do as you please, obviously.)

Method:

Chop the cabbage finely, and slice the radishes and cucumber with a mandolin (or grate them).

Place the vegetables in a large colander, and toss them with a tablespoon of salt. Leave them to sit for a few hours, and then squeeze out the excess liquid. (This step can be skipped, but it concentrates the vegetable’s flavor.)

Place a skillet over medium-high heat, and add the oil. Cook the shrimp until just pink (about a minute on each side), sprinkling them with a little kosher salt as they sizzle. (You’ll probably have to do this in two batches.)

Add the shrimp to the vegetables. (I do this while they’re still warm, which will cause the shrimp to wilt the cabbage just a tad. I like the effect, but if you want the slaw to be extra-crunchy, cool the shrimp thoroughly before adding them.)

Now, whizz all the dressing ingredients together in a blender. Taste and adjust for seasoning and acidity. Then pour the dressing over the vegetables and shrimp, and toss well to combine.

Eat, but proceed with caution. Not too much now!

Serves 4 – 6.

Post-gym salad

 

There’s something so nice about opening the fridge and finding you have the makings for a good salad, isn’t there? I made this in about three minutes flat, after I got home from the gym completely ravenous. I loved the interplay of the aniseed elements (the fennel and the tarragon in the dressing), and the peppery elements (the arugula and the radishes). The cherry tomatoes added a little sweetness, and the tart, creamy dressing pulled the whole thing together. It’s also very easy on the eye. So I think I’ll make this again – perhaps even by design.

 

Ingredients:

 

A few handfuls arugula

A few slices of fennel bulb (or stalks, which is what I used), sliced

A few radishes, sliced

A handful of cherry tomatoes, halved

 

For the dressing:

1 tbsp mayonnaise (I used homemade since I had some on hand, but store bought would be fine)

1 tbsp chardonnay vinegar

1 tbsp good extra virgin olive oil

1 tbsp chopped tarragon

A pinch of good salt

 

Method:

 

Arrange the salad ingredients prettily in a bowl; mix up the dressing ingredients, and drizzle the dressing over the salad; now gobble it rapidly – preferably while still wearing your scuzzy gym sweatpants.

Fennel, Orange, Arugula, and Smoked Salmon Salad

 

It’s been two days since my last confession: namely, that I don’t much care for cereal. I’m now going to admit that I’m not really one for sandwiches, either. Instead, I turn to salads (albeit substantive ones) almost every day for lunch. I’ve developed, therefore, quite a repertoire of them, and I don’t declare one a favourite lightly. But for this salad, I’m willing to throw caution to the proverbial. It’s a perfect balance of flavours and textures, and is almost ludicrously healthy to boot.

I hadn’t made this for a while, and frankly wasn’t planning to, due to the exorbitant price of good smoked salmon. But then, last Friday, our weekly organic fruit and vegetable box arrived replete with a squat bulb of seafoam-green fennel, and a couple of diminutive but promisingly heavy oranges. I felt sorely tempted. When I stumbled upon some locally grown, wild, organic arugula (check, check and check) in Wholefoods a day or two later, I just gave in - clearly, the powers that be wanted me to have this for my Sunday lunch.

 

Ingredients:

A few strips good smoked salmon (I used Charlie Trotter’s citrus-cured one)
A few handfuls arugula

An orange, halved: 1 half finely sliced, 1 half reserved
A few slices of fennel bulb, finely sliced

A few fennel fronds, chopped

Freshly ground black pepper

For the dressing:
Zest from the orange
Juice from the reserved orange half

1 tsp dijon mustard
1 tsp extra-virgin olive oil
Pinch good salt

Method:

Assemble the arugula, salmon, fennel, and orange segments prettily on a plate.

Now whisk up the dressing with a fork until it’s slightly thick (mustard is an emulsifier); taste and adjust the seasoning; drizzle it over the top of the salad.

Scatter the salad with fennel fronds and a liberal amount of black pepper.

This makes a lovely lunch for one.

 

P.S. I sometimes add avocado slices to this too.