tilted skillet

delicata squash fries with Sriracha mayo

It’s life’s little discoveries and epiphanies from which I derive great satisfaction. I still remember when I made the connection between Target and its eponymous logo. I remember because it wasn’t very long ago. Or the time I discovered that the big pot of ‘green garlic’ I inherited last year was actually a variety of non-flowering tulip. I remember because I put tulips in my omelet, and it turns out most people consider tulips inedible. My stomach agreed with that assessment.  

More recently, after years of roasting and sautéing Brussels sprouts, I had a Brussels sprouts awakening at a restaurant in San Diego. I ate two orders just to be sure, but now I know that the fast track to addictive Brussels sprouts involves frying them in pork fat, and serving them with lots of cheese and, of course, more pork.

We’ll save the Brussels sprouts for another day, because last Tuesday was the day I had an epiphany while standing alone in my kitchen with a delicata squash. Doing so is hardly an unusual event, given my love of winter squash and decorative gourd season. As its name suggests, the delicata squash is delicate. Its skin, unlike the skin of most winter squash, is edible. A medium delicata squash is the perfect size for one person, unlike many monstrous winter gourd specimens.

The funny thing about delicata squash is that I’ve only ever seen them cut into little half moons. The half moons are lovely and the textural contrast between crunchy skin and soft flesh is appetizing, but why is it that everyone – from prep cooks and home cooks to fancy chefs and cooking instructors – thinks the delicata is an one-trick squash?

Alone in my kitchen with the delicata squash, I went rogue. I rotated that squash 90 degrees and sliced it into long, lithe spears. Tossed with warming spices and roasted at high heat, the squash fries emerged from the oven caramelized and slightly crispy on the outside with soft, creamy interiors. Dipped into a quick Sriracha mayo (with homemade Sriracha and homemade mayo!), the long delicata spears were nothing short of a minor miracle.

Middle Eastern-spiced roasted sweet pepper dip

fried eggs on a homemade brioche bun with plenty of Middle Eastern-spiced roasted sweet pepper dip...breakfast perfection!

Since my brother Jimmy moved up to the Bay Area about six months ago, I’ve settled into a nice routine of cooking and sharing many meals with him and George. The three of us usually consume a quantity that would feed about six normal people, so I tend to favor hearty, filling fare. The nights of passing off a large bowl of roasted cauliflower and cheese as a meal are relics of my past life as a single girl in the city.

By no means am I complaining. Frequent dinners with my guys afford me the chance to cook new foods for an audience that will eat anything. I cook more meat, pork, and poultry, and have enjoyed expanding my culinary repertoire to include many members of the animal kingdom.  

Although I eat more animal protein now than I did a few years ago, my disinterest in plain food – be it cauliflower, chicken, or cod – hasn’t changed. I’m not the type to willingly eat a big slab of anything sans a sauce, dip, or spread. Some of my favorite combinations are the simplest: roasted chicken with garlicky aïoli, flaky white fish with pesto, grilled sausages with mustard, anything with peanut sauce. I’d be hard pressed to think of an animal protein that, in my estimation, wouldn’t be improved by a dollop of something with a contrasting flavor and texture.

Last week, with Jimmy and George both out of town, I revisited my single girl meals of yore. Instead of a few heads of cauliflower, I had a roasted chicken (and all of the skin to myself!) that I planned to enjoy throughout the week. I thought about making aïoli, but I also knew that with no one around, I’d end up eating not only the whole chicken and all of its skin, but the entire batch of aïoli – which includes over a cup of olive oil – in a matter of two or three days.

In the interest of health, I decided to make a big batch of a vegetable-based sauce to enjoy with my chicken. The Middle Eastern-inspired red pepper dip I settled on simultaneously dispatched with most of my three pounds of CSA sweet peppers, and replaces much of the fat of my beloved aïoli with smoky, lower fat roasted peppers. Earthy cumin, salty preserved lemon, and tangy pomegranate molasses contribute lots of interesting flavor.

I call this a dip as it’s rather thick, but you could thin it out with olive oil for a more pourable consistency. I like plating a crispy-skinned chicken thigh and a handful of roasted or blanched green beans with a couple big spoonfuls of the pepper spread. It contains such a high percentage of vegetable matter that it could even be a fitting side dish. Keep in mind that using mixed color peppers like I did (red, green, purple, etc.) will yield a brown sauce. Pureeing pretty colors together does not a pretty sauce make.

This recipe makes a lot of red pepper dip, which isn’t a problem for me. It would also be great spread on sandwiches, swirled into a bowl of soup, or tucked into an omelet. The possibilities are endless! And thank goodness, lest a piece of protein sit on my plate naked.

roasted eggplant salad

Dow Chemical, everyone’s favorite multinational chemical corporation, has developed a plant-based cellulose that mimics the function of gluten in gluten-free baked goods. In this video, a Dow food scientist talks about the company’s commitment to helping people follow healthy lifestyles. I laughed my way through the video and its perversely campy title, When Great Ideas Rise. Dow’s particular brand of ‘solutionism’ is one that relies on extensive manipulation of odd ingredients to create compounds that are not food. It wasn’t too long ago that Michael Pollan made nutritionism – and its proponents – his scapegoats. Dow’s PR people should’ve done their research before landing on solutionism as the benevolent face of their food science division. Too late, Dow! Nutritionism = solutionism.

As I prepared dinner the other night for vegetarian, gluten-free, and dairy-free friends, I thought about the role extensively processed gluten-free products play in our diets. For me, that role is pretty much nonexistent. To extend the analogy, I’d say these food-like substances are extras on the movie set of my plate. Not even non-speaking walk-ons.

I’d made a cool and silky watermelon-tomato gazpacho, a big batch of fried padrón peppers with flaky sea salt, and a robust eggplant salad redolent of roasted garlic and toasted tahini. We weren’t hurting for food, but for a moment I felt like the texture of the eggplant salad and soup dictated a bread or cracker for dipping and scooping. I didn’t have time to buy or make anything, and the bread monster (aka fiancé) had done some serious damage to our carbohydrate stocks since my last grocery trip.

I rummaged around in the crisper drawer and emerged with a head of radicchio. I carefully peeled individual leaves from the head to form cups for holding eggplant salad. What a solution(ism)! The bitterness of the radicchio cut through the richness of the tahini and eggplant, and made the meal a little more interactive.

I guess I should say a few things about the eggplant salad, since this has been my meandering way of offering you its recipe. For this dish, I use a number of ingredients common to the eggplant spread baba ghanoush, add my own touches, and throw the standard proportions of eggplant to tahini out the window. I treat the salad as more of a main dish, and accordingly cut back on the tahini so the final product is not overly rich. The eggplant salad is great on its own, dipped into with crackers (made from real food, please!), or scooped into lettuce leaves.

grilled sweet pepper and tomato soup with avocado pesto

I have a shopping addiction, and it involves my CSA. While some women pine for new bags and shoes (who am I kidding; I’ve been there, too), I generally sate the shopping bug with weekly add-ons from our CSA’s web store. The web store, a members-only online catalogue of artisanal foods, bulk produce, locally-roasted coffee, and other goodies (Monterey Bay sea salt with kelp? Yes, I needed that), is available for three days each week. Shopping these limited-time offerings is as exciting for me as it is for a normal person to score a great deal via Groupon or Gilt.

In recent weeks, summer’s bounty has made the offerings in the web store unbearably attractive. I have no self-control with pints of organic blueberries, hearth-baked breads, and, my newest addiction, grab bags of mixed sweet peppers. The sweet peppers, which range from the size of my pinkie to the size of my whole hand, come in a kaleidoscope of colors. Although I’ll crunch on one like an apple, I prefer them grilled or roasted. 

Despite my desire to eat them all whole, I convinced myself that I could spare one of the two bags of peppers I bought last week for a recipe in which their sweet flavor would really shine. I thought soup would be nice, but the reality of slaving over a hot stove in a hot house is always unappealing. Instead, I sent my favorite grill master out to the Weber with said peppers, an equal amount of dry-farmed CSA tomatoes, sliced sweet onions, and a handful of unpeeled garlic cloves wrapped in foil. Coated in olive oil and smoky spices, the grilled vegetables form the base of a soup that requires very little subsequent time on the stove.

Topped with sliced radishes and a cold and creamy avocado pesto, this soup – served hot – still fit the bill for a warm summer night’s meal. I lamented the disappearance of yet another bag of peppers, but the good news is that I only have to wait two more days to re-up my horde.

roasted cauliflower steaks with tahini, date syrup, and kalamata olives

Something I’m a little afraid to tell you: if left to my own devices, I have a really hard time not eating an entire head of roasted cauliflower in one sitting. Sometimes, I’ll cook only half of a large head, but then I’m just upset with the unnecessary restriction. I mean, there are worse things I could be eating than a pound of cauliflower.

In the early days of my cauliflower adoration, I favored simple preparations – a sprinkle of good curry powder and salt, melted coconut oil, and a shower of cilantro after roasting. Lately, I’ve been exploiting the humble cauliflower’s adaptability by pureeing it with potatoes, steaming a whole head at once, and most recently, turning it into steaks.

I’m not trying to fool anyone – including myself – into thinking that a big slab of cauliflower approximates a nice filet of beef or chicken. Rather, I feel more civilized cutting into a cauliflower steak than I do digging into a mountain of tiny florets. I think it has to do with the steak necessitating use of a fork AND knife, but this is starting to smack of the theory of human evolution so let’s get back to the cauliflower.

Recently, Bon Appétit magazine posted a recipe for roasted cauliflower with date syrup from Erez Komarovsky of Calilee Cooking School in Israel. The combination of cauliflower, sweet and sticky date syrup, and creamy tahini is a bit unexpected and extremely delicious. I added ground cumin for depth, a generous handful of flat-leaf parsley leaves for color and crunch, and sliced kalamata olives for a salty counterpoint, and was completely hooked.

Another Bon Appétit recipe, for cauliflower steaks with olive relish and tomato sauce, caught my eye and, before I knew it, all I could think about was a cauliflower steak topped with date syrup, tahini, and olives. I waited for a night I knew I’d be cooking for one (lest I have to share my cauliflower with others) and, I’ll admit, went to town on my creation.

If you’re wondering where to find date syrup and/or tahini, try a Middle Eastern market or well-stocked natural foods store. Making date syrup is easy and having a jar laying around is never a bad thing. Drizzle it on pancakes, waffles, French toast, or yogurt. Making it takes about five minutes. Try this recipe.

roasted nori chips

A couple years ago when I was home for the holidays, I was mildly disgusted to find a can of French’s cheddar-flavored fried onions sitting front and center in my parents’ pantry. Figuring the can of processed onion product would end up in a green bean casserole, I made a mental note to stick to the relatively safe turkey, roasted root vegetables, and sugared cranberries. Mere hours later, I saw my dad rooting around in said pantry for a snack and was horrified when he absentmindedly started devouring the French’s fried onions like they were a reasonable snack of, say, kale chips or trail mix.

I asked my mom if Dad had just annihilated her stock of would-be green bean casserole toppers, but she nonchalantly responded that in fact no, Dad buys those at the grocery store for the sole purpose of snacking. The little part of me that died on the inside that day was solidified when I noticed that the expiration date for the can of cheddar-flavored onion impersonators had passed many moons ago. 

I remembered this incident last month while in Mammoth with my parents. Seeing my dad fumbling with his Blackberry over by the pantry, I was a bit confused until the photo below landed in various family members’ inboxes with a caption of ‘challenge of the day: which snack is Dad’s and which is Shannon’s?’. I think we all know the answer to this one. Although over-salted cocktail peanuts are probably a step up from French’s fried onions, I insisted Dad try my nori chips. He obliged, bless his heart, but I don’t think I have to worry about him stealing my roasted seaweed anytime soon.

A pack of these seaweed chips is only a couple bucks at the store, but I feel wasteful purchasing a snack that needs so much packaging for so little satiety. I started tinkering at home with a pack of seaweed generally reserved for sushi-making and, after a few tries, came up with a method and roasting temperature that works for me. These little chips are surprisingly addictive, with a salty kick and nutty flavor thanks to the sesame seeds and time in the oven.

Eating them can be a messy affair: I usually try to fit a whole one in my mouth so as to avoid the otherwise-inevitable crumbs associated with biting one in half. This is not an overly attractive way to snack. Thus, they are best enjoyed in the comfort of your own home, preferably while standing over the sink.

chewy no-bake granola bars

For my brother and me, the third Thursday in April is practically a national holiday. I'm talking about two disparate celebrations of national import (at least in my opinion): Low Carbon Diet Day and National High Five Day. The company I work for, Bon Appétit Management Company, is serious about its carbon footprint. Through a number of purchasing and sustainability initiatives, we’ve substantially slashed our carbon emissions in a short period of time. Each year, we make our internal goal a public celebration in all of our 450+ cafés. To demonstrate easy ways guests can reduce their contributions to global warming, we do fun stuff like remove burgers from the grill menu, serve up pizzas without cheese, and give out smaller portions of hearty fare. People love it? We quell the carnivores with turkey burgers and somehow it all works out.

National High Five Day speaks for itself. My brother, who probably won’t like this descriptor but is very theatrical, worked with some friends on a music video for the holiday. They practically own the day. I strongly recommend you check out the video below. My brother is the rapping redhead. I don’t know where he came from!

 

When our Director of Strategic Sourcing and Research asked me to develop a Low Carbon Diet-approved granola bar recipe for an event at San Francisco General Hospital, I predictably jumped at the chance. To qualify as low carbon, I needed to keep my granola bars out of the oven and free of dairy products. It took a few tries, but I settled on a recipe that was perfect for the healthy-eating, low carbon message we were sharing with the masses at SFGH today.

In a departure from many processed granola bars, mine are made with heart-healthy fats: extra-virgin olive oil, almond butter, and toasted almonds. Sweetened only with honey and dried unsweetened cherries, they won’t give you a sugar buzz and are intended to keep your energy levels high. Individually wrapped as in the photo above, they make for perfect on-the-go snacks without the weird ingredients and carbon footprint of their traditional counterparts. Now that deserves a high five!

in praise of: the one-jellyroll pan dinner

As much as I love to cook, many nights dinnertime rolls around and I have no idea what I want to make. Sure, a lot of things sound good but as someone who cooks and eats a lot, I usually know if a dish’s prep time exceeds the amount of time I can remain comfortably hungry before going gangbangers on a bag of chips (of the tortilla or seaweed variety). On these nights, I either heed the call of the crispy tortilla and pay the price later with a disappointingly measly appetite, or throw together a surprisingly tasty and supremely easy meal for one or two.

It’s rare that there aren’t odds and ends of vegetables, proteins, and starches stashed in our fridge and freezer. My idea of a dinnertime treasure trove – a handful of kale stems, one fat golden beet, 2/3 cup of frozen chickpeas I’d cooked a couple weeks before – may well be trash (err, compost) to others, but give me a crisper of vegetable leftovers and I’ll make you dinner.  

Such was the direction I went after an afternoon spent indoor rock climbing. My amateurish technique requires me to rely extensively on hauling myself up the faux-granite like an ungainly monkey. By the time we returned home, covered in chalk handprints and nursing tired arms, I knew dinner had come down to two options: the one-cookie sheet dinner or In-N-Out. One of us chose In-N-Out.

In about the same amount of time it took my burger fiend to acquire and inhale two double-doubles and fries, I was able to prepare and enjoy a filling plate of roasted beets, kale stems, and chickpeas. The combination might sound weird, but sprinkled with Meyer lemon juice and truffle oil, and topped with a scoop of something creamy or saucy, such as pesto or hummus thinned with olive oil, it’s pretty delicious. In the last few minutes of roasting, I often put a couple thick slices of artisan bread directly on the oven rack to toast. Drizzled with olive oil or slathered with butter, the grilled bread elevates this meal to something a little less ordinary.

This isn’t a recipe so much as it is a general strategy and set of suggestions. Either way, I’ve broken it down for you into fun diagrams to guide your dinner-planning. Read on, enjoy, and preheat your oven to the magic temperature: obviously, 415°F.

raw kale salad with avocado, tangerines and walnuts

      Thanks to our catering manager at Yahoo! for snapping these photos!

As we approach Easter and the start of Passover, a time associated with heavy eating (ham! chocolate eggs! brisket!), it seems only fitting to talk about raw greens. It should come as no surprise to those lucky enough to regularly hear my jumbled stream of food-related consciousness that raw greens are one of my passions. Right up there with short ribs and brownies, in fact. I can only begin to describe how lucky I felt a couple weeks ago, when I was given the opportunity to host a healthy cooking demonstration at one of our local accounts.

Yahoo! employees toil away at a Silicon Valley campus wrought with primary colors, manicured grounds, and awesome amenities. Multiple Bon Appétit cafés offer something for everyone, and special events – such as cooking classes, weekly farmers markets, and wellness fairs – give Yahoo! employees many reasons to leave their colorful cubes. During National Nutrition Month, our team goes beyond the call of duty to host a full lineup of fun activities. And bless their little hearts, they decided I’d be a worthwhile addition to this year’s healthy-eating calendar.

In anticipation of the demo, I got serious in my little kitchen. Since my demo was relegated to a large conference room, I knew I’d have no access to most of the creature comforts of a kitchen – such as an oven, sink or stove. Armed with baby spinach and bundles of kale, I came up with a couple items that would be 1) easy to demonstrate in a conference room, 2) not so weird that the Yahoo! employees wouldn’t try a bite, and 3) foods for which easy-to-follow recipes could be proffered.

Three green smoothies and two raw kale salads later, I settled on approachable yet alternative takes on everyday eats. You won’t mistake my brown smoothie for a fruity neon Jamba Juice, or my super-green kale monstrosity for a friendly little salad. You should’ve seen the looks on the Yahoo! employees faces as I packed baby spinach into the blender and enthusiastically massaged avocado into tender kale leaves with latex-gloved hands. I answered questions and happily chattered away about all things vegetal as I proffered plates of avocado-citrus kale salad. I saw a few of them smell the salad before trying it. Weird? Soon enough they dug in, wary big eyes easing into satisfied smiling, chewing faces.

I thought to myself, c’mon people, this isn’t Fear Factor! This is kale salad. Today I have the kale salad recipe for you. It’s perfect for raw kale newbies, as the avocado, citrus and salt help to tenderize the leaves. Just be sure your avocado is ripe, and your hands are clean. And don’t be offended if your eaters smell it before they take a bite.

wild rice dolmas with dried cherries, fresh herbs and pine nuts

Briny, lemony and pleasantly mushy all at once, dolmas are one of my favorite Middle Eastern treats. A staple on meze platters, dolmas are often found cozying up to hummus, tabbouleh and pita. They’re also available at well-stocked grocery stores in cans and jars, but I prefer dolmas that are freshly made and stocked in the prepared foods section. Fresh dolmas offer a pleasant textural resistance in the form of brined grape leaves, before yielding to a soft mix of short-grain white rice, lots of lemon juice, and herbs and spices. Currants and/or pine nuts are not unheard of, but a traditional dolma adheres to a reserved palette of green grape leaf and white rice. 

This past December, I came into a wealth of grape leaves. The morning after a lovely wedding in Los Gatos, I walked out of our hotel to a farmers market situated just across the street. While the produce and artisanal products were largely similar to what I see at farmers markets 40 miles north, I was surprised to see large glass jars filled with leafy green bundles and greenish brine. Delicately wrapped in kitchen twine, each of the three bundles held a good dozen or so meaty grape leaves. I purchased a jar along with some heirloom carrots and goat cheddar, and packed away my goods for the drive home.

I experimented with the first bundle of leaves, chopping them up and adding them to scrambles and grain salads. I even roasted some under a chicken with potatoes and carrots. I knew, though, that I’d have to leave a number of them alone in anticipation of trying my hand at dolmas. I’d been meaning to use up a jar of wild rice, so I figured I’d go way off the beaten path and add all sorts of irreverent ingredients: dried cherries, toasted pine nuts, and fresh mint and parsley.

Since all the wild rice I’ve ever seen is long-grain, I devised an interesting workaround to achieve the homogenously mushy texture I associate with dolmas. Before cooking the rice, I blitzed it in my blender (which has a dry blade container for grinding grains*). This yielded a mix of very fine (even a bit powdery) and short-grain wild rice pieces. When cooked, the texture of this wild rice ‘porridge’ mimics that of dolma rice, and the broken grains eagerly soak up the rest of the filling’s fresh flavors.

Of special mention is grape leaf preparation. You can buy grape leaves in the same aisle as jarred olives and pickles, or, if you’re lucky, at the farmers market. Since they’re preserved in salty brine, they can be salty like the sea. Taste them to decide your next steps: mildly-salty grape leaves may require nothing more than total restraint with the salt in their filling; salty grape leaves should be soaked in hot water for about half hour; and super-salty specimens may need a 15-20 minute simmer in a deep saucepan of water. Some people prefer to steam their dolmas after rolling, but I found this step unnecessary for my rendition as I prefer a little bite to my grape leaves.

Dolmas look like neat little Middle Eastern spring rolls. Ideally, their tightly sealed folds hug a perfect cylinder of filling. Ha! Some of my early dolmas resembled square parcels, and even once I got the hang of rolling down I relegated more than a few to the don’t-serve-to-dinner-guests camp thanks to zealous attempts at over-filling and subsequent gaping seams. Stick with it and you’ll end up with a stack of perfect little Middle Eastern spring roll lookalikes that are more than worth the effort.

*If you don’t have a dry blade container, I’d be hesitant to use the regular blender container. This can dull the blades in no time. Instead, try your food processor. No food processor? Cook the rice whole and then chop it up on a cutting board. It won’t be quite the same, but on the plus side you won’t destroy your blender!