Kurbissuppe {Pumpkin Soup}

I'm smitten.  In total and complete love.  And I'm not the only one.

We named our sweet baby girl Lorelei to honor her German birthplace.  But what we didn't know was just how true to her namesake she's proving to be.  Lorelei is known in German legend as a siren who lured men to her (and their doom) in the Rhine River.  In just two weeks our Lorelei has shown to have a pretty powerful hold over her daddy and two big brothers.  I can imagine that she will have the men in her life wrapped around her little finger as long as her heart desires.

This new little sweetheart came into our lives when we thought we were way past the "baby" stage of life.  I love my older boys and seeing their personalities unfold as they grow into young men.   So I was amazed at how quickly my heart was won over by their baby sister.  My fears of being completely unprepared emotionally for this new addition to our lives, of the change that would shake up our comfortable life and of how I would be able to juggle all of those new baby difficulties and still be a good mom to my boys were washed away the moment that incredibly chubby-cheeked face was presented to me.  In that moment I couldn't imagine our family without her.

A new season has begun in our family just as fall has descended upon us here in Germany.  I thought it fitting to share the most popular fall dish in our adopted home.  You know fall has arrived when you see two things in the market- huge pyramid stacks of crazily pointy cabbages called spitzkohl and pumpkins.  There are all sorts of pumpkins for sale, everything from presliced slabs of giant pumpkins to small winter squash like Hokkaido (or Kuri) squash.  And my favorite fall festivity may just be the carved and stacked pumpkins that cover the gardens at the yearly pumpkin festival at a nearby Baroque castle.  I think it will be Lorelei's first big introduction to the fests of Germany and rightfully so because in my mind her arrival will forever be linked to the crisp early days of the German autumn.

Kurbissuppe {Pumpkin Soup}
Serves 4 as a main course.
For the printable recipe, click here.

This is a pretty traditional German-style pumpkin soup.  There are no fancy spices or herbs here, it's pretty straightforward pumpkin.  I chose to use Hokkaido squash instead of a true pumpkin, but you could certainly use sugar pumpkins in place of the squash if you can find them.  I roasted my squash first to add a bit more flavor and the Hokkaido can be roasted and eaten with the skin on- a bonus in my book.  Here in Germany, the locals would drizzle pumpkin seed oil over their soup.  The oil is a glorious deep green color and really adds something to the flavor of the soup.  I didn't have any on hand, but found that a swirl of balsamic vinegar (I actually used a reduced balsamic glaze which you can find in many grocery stores these days) was the perfect foil for the rich soup.  I wouldn't skip that drizzle if I were you.  If you'd like a richer soup a swirl of creme fraiche wouldn't be out of place stirred into each bowl.  And if you have them, sprinkle a few roasted pumpkin seeds over the top.  The Germans would.

2 smaller-sized Hokkaido squash
1 medium yukon gold or other waxy potato, chopped into half inch cubes
1 small onion, chopped
2 carrots, peeled and chopped
2 cloves garlic, chopped
6 cups chicken or vegetable stock (or even water if you want to keep the flavor pure pumpkin)
olive oil
salt and pepper to taste

Optional garnishes:
balsamic vinegar or balsamic cream
pumpkin seed oil
roasted pumpkin seeds
creme fraiche

Preheat your oven to 400 degrees.  Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

Slice the Hokkaido squash in half and scrape out the seeds and membranes.  Cut the flesh into 2 inch wide crescents.  On the baking sheet, toss the squash with a drizzle of olive oil and salt and pepper.  Roast for 25-30 minutes, flipping halfway through, until the flesh is tender and caramelized at the edges. Coarsely chop once out of the oven.

With about 10 minutes left to the roasting time, heat a tablespoon of olive oil in a 5 quart stockpot over medium heat.  Stir in the onion and carrot and saute until just beginning to soften, about 4 minutes.  Add in the potatoes and garlic and saute for another 3 to 4 minutes (being careful not to burn the garlic).  Stir in the stock and roasted squash.  Add a pinch of salt and pepper.  Bring the soup to a boil and then reduce the heat a bit.  Simmer the soup until all of the vegetables are very tender, about 15-20 minutes.  Blend the soup in batches until smooth in a blender or in the pot using an immersion blender.

Serve the soup with a drizzle of balsamic vinegar or pumpkin seed oil, a sprinkle of roasted pumpkin seeds and a swirl of creme fraiche.

Dukkah Spice and Honey Roasted Carrots with Arugula

Goodness, I'm tired.  But tired in a good way if you know what I mean. 

It's the kind of tired that comes from long days of playing with my kids and being a family together.  The kind of tired that happens when life is working and all the little things come together.  When everyone wakes up with the right kind of attitude for facing the day and so much good gets accomplished.  It's the best kind of tired.

I had a few unscheduled moments yesterday so I took the opportunity to sit in the sun on the bench in my garden.  I read a magazine (all the way through!), sipped a blueberry lemon iced tea that I promise will make it to this space soon and simply enjoyed the contentedness of being quiet.  I considered feeling guilty about it for a moment.  Should I be playing with my boys, doing a load of laundry, organizing the room that will be home to a new baby girl in a few short months? 

I could have been doing any of those things, but I realized that the few minutes that I took to recharge my battery in the sun wasn't going to keep me from being a good mom or wife.  In fact, I would probably be a better one having given myself a break.  So I gave myself permission to close my eyes, sit back and enjoy the warm afternoon for just a few minutes longer.

Dukkah Spice and Honey Roasted Carrots with Arugula
Serves 6.  Adapted, barely, from Better Homes and Gardens.
For the printable recipe, click here.

I've made this recipe a few times now in my constant quest for side dishes that involve something other than green beans or broccoli.  The last time it graced our table was for a dinner with friends that are retiring from military life and moving back to the U.S..  It received rave reviews so I think I've got it just right.  The dukkah spice is an Egyptian spice that is a mix of toasted nuts (typically hazelnuts) and seeds.  The one I've outlined for you here is a very traditional one using sesame, coriander and cumin seeds.  I think it's just perfect but if you'd like to try something different I think pistachios and perhaps a bit of heat in the form of a hot paprika or a smoky chili powder would be great additions.  The lemon dressed arugula helps to balance out the sweetness of the honey and carrots.  These carrots are a great accompaniment to any grilled meat or roasted pork.

1 1/2 pounds of thin carrots, scrubbed and peeled if desired (halve any particularly wide carrots lengthwise)
3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1/3 cup coarsely chopped hazelnuts
1 tablespoon coriander seeds
1 tablespoon sesame seeds
1 1/2 teaspoons cumin seeds
1/2 teaspoon kosher or sea salt
a few grinds of freshly cracked pepper
1 tablespoon honey
a large handful arugula (about 2 cups)
juice of 1/2 lemon

Preheat your oven to 425 degrees.

Place the carrots on a parchment lined baking sheet.  Toss with 1 tablespoon of olive oil, spread evenly on the baking pan and roast for 20 minutes.

In the meantime, heat a small pan on the stove over medium low heat.  Place the hazelnuts in the pan and toast just until the nuts get fragrant and the slightest bit golden, about 3 minutes.  Place the hazelnuts in a bowl and toss the coriander, sesame and cumin seeds in the warm pan.  Place back over the heat and toast the seeds for about 2 minutes or until they become fragrant.  Add the toasted seeds to the nuts and grind them together with the salt and pepper in a spice grinder or with a mortar and pestle until coarsely crushed together.

When the first 20 minutes of roasting is finished, drizzle the carrots with the honey and half of the spice and nut mixture.  Toss to coat.  Return the carrots to the oven and continue roasting for another 5 to 10 minutes or until the carrots are just fork tender (but not burnt or mushy).

At the last minute, toss the arugula with the lemon juice and olive oil in a large bowl.  Arrange on a platter.  When the carrots are ready spread them over the arugula, sprinkle some of the remaining dukkah spice over the top and gently toss together.  Serve immediately.

Red Lentil and Tomato Soup

This soup has been haunting me for two years.  It's one of my absolute favorites and I think I have made and photographed it at least three times in an attempt to share it with you.  Not a single photograph has ever been worthy of posting.  Seriously.  Not.  One.  Ever.

Until today.  {Insert me jumping up and down clapping in glee here!}  I've come to the conclusion that my photography woes with regards to this soup have been due to three factors.  First, it's taken me forever to really feel comfortable with my camera skills, capturing the light in an attractive way and food styling abilities.  I think I may be at the point where I've gotten the hang of it. Or maybe I just got lucky on this one.  For today, at least, I'm not going to question it because it means I finally have some decent photos to share with you.

Second, I don't often plan what recipes I'm going to make and when I'm going to make them.  That sort of leaves me at the mercy of whatever lighting I have on the day I decide to whip up a batch of something new.  In the case of this soup I seem to only make it on rainy and cloudy days when I can't squeeze out enough light to make even the prettiest cake or cookie look edible, let alone a humble soup.  But really the biggest problem I've been having is that fact that, let's face it, the soup is not the most attractive color.  Some things are just really hard to make look enticing in a photo and the mustard-like color of the lentils just is not very photogenic. 

But by golly, I think I've finally managed to make it look like it's something you might want to eat.  And thank goodness because it really is an awesome soup.  Thank you pretty German morning light from my big back windows.  Thank you Anthropologie for the sweet little napkin that makes all of my food look awesome against it and IKEA for the rolling kitchen cart that helps me find just the right spot to take my pictures.  And thanks to you- my faithful readers- for having the patience and fortitude to stick it out with me through the oddly colored and poorly focused photos of my past with the hope that I may just find my stride and finally deliver on a soup that took me two years to get right.

Red Lentil and Tomato Soup
Makes 4-6 servings of soup. Slightly finessed from Fine Cooking.
For the printable recipe, click here.

This soup is pretty darn perfect for my family's taste, but it is infinitely adaptable.  My husband, ever the carnivore, likes a bit of shredded chicken or turkey stirred into his bowl.  The greens add a really nice slightly bitter note to the soup, but are certainly not necessary and the soup is quite good without them.  If you choose to use them, you can throw in whatever you have in your fridge.  I've used kale, spinach, swiss chard and even bok choy with equal success.  And you can go totally vegetarian (even vegan!) by using vegetable stock as your liquid.  The possibilities here are endless.  The real key is the red lentils, which I would not substitute with any other sort of lentil as they cook differently.  You can find them in many grocery stores these days so seek them out near the rest of the dry legumes and grains in your local store.

1 medium onion, chopped finely
1 large carrot, peeled and diced
1 stalk celery, diced
1 tsp curry powder or garaham masala
1 tsp dried cumin
1/2 tsp smoked paprika
1 pinch cayenne pepper (to taste)
a generous pinch of sea or kosher salt
1 14 oz. can diced tomatoes in the juices (fire roasted are my favorite to use in this soup)
4 cups home made or low sodium chicken stock (to go vegetarian, use vegetable stock)
1 cup dried red lentils
2 tbs chopped sun dried or slow roasted tomatoes
1 heaping cup chopped bitter greens such as kale, swiss chard, or mustard greens

Heat 2 tbs olive oil in a large saucepan (3 qt) over medium heat.  Add the onions and cook, stirring, until they have softened and become translucent (about 5 minutes).  Add the carrots, celery, curry powder, cumin and smoked paprika and stir for about 1 minute or until the spices toast and become very fragrant.  Add the salt, stock, tomatoes and their juices, and lentils to the pot.  Stir continuously until the soup comes to a boil so that the lentils do not stick and form clumps.  Once the soup reaches a boil, turn the heat down to medium low and simmer uncovered for about 45 minutes or until the carrots and lentils have softened.  Add the sun dried tomatoes and greens and cook for another 4-5 minutes to soften the greens.  Taste for seasoning and add salt as needed.  Serve immediately.

The soup will keep for several days in the refrigerator, though the lentils will soak up much of the liquid.  Simply add a bit or water or stock when you reheat it.  You can also freeze the soup for up to three months.

Balsamic Braised Cabbage with Apples and Bacon

 If you've been following along recently, you'll know that my family and I spent a month living in a hotel room when we first got to Germany.  Actually two adjoined rooms, the kids in one and hubs and I in the other.  It was a kind of torturous hell for several reasons.  First, there's no escape.  No way to be on your own, even for just a few minutes.  I love my family, but I think by the end of that month I didn't like them very much.  There's only so much SpongeBob I can listen to (in German, no less) without wanting to throw the TV out the window onto the unsuspecting folks innocently waiting for the bus out in front of the hotel.  We were all driving each other crazy.  And don't even get me started on the awful domino effect of one of us picking up a stomach bug.....That was a seriously miserable weekend.

One thing I did gain from that month in hotel purgatory was an intimate familiarity with German cuisine.  Having no kitchen means you eat EVERY meal out.  Which may sound great, and it was.  For about a week.  Then it got very old very quickly.  We had no car for quite a while, so we had a few choices of restaurants that we could walk to (or brave the riding the train to downtown Stuttgart, which is quite intimidating for a newcomer).  Our choices were mainly German biergartens or little Italian trattorias.  In other words- pork, potatoes, pizza and pasta.  If it wasn't for the fact that I was walking everywhere I think I would have gained 15 pounds in that month.  By the end of the month, those 4 p's of my new diet left me seriously craving fresh vegetables.

 Germany's answer to the vegetable with dinner (if indeed you get a veggie) is cabbage in all of it's various renderings.  You will find it chopped and quickly pickled, fully sauerkraut-ed, sliced and quickly sauteed with some apple or slow cooked- usually with some bacon or other smoked pork.  I've never been a cabbage girl.  In fact, living in SoCal, we used to live fields where cabbages grew all year long and the smell when the cabbages were harvested was enough to make me want to stay away from the cruciferous veggie for a long, long time.  But necessity being what it is and my choices being limited, I've learned to like (kinda) cabbage. Today's recipe reflects the way that I've found like cabbage best.  When slow cooked with vinegar, bacon and apples cabbage loses most of it's stinky quality and becomes silky, sweet/tart and slightly smoky.  The Germans know a thing or two about pork and in my opinion pairing pork and cabbage is one of their best culinary contributions to date.  Oh, and beer.  And pretzels.  Or Black Forest cake.   Maybe strudel....

Balsamic Braised Cabbage with Apples and Bacon
Serves 4.  Adapted only slightly from the irresistible Jamie Oliver.
For the printable recipe, click here.

This is a simple recipe for a Sunday supper side dish.  It takes a while to braise, but the ingredients are few and easy to come by.  I like it served along side braised pork shoulder for a very German meal.  You can use whatever cabbage you like.  The original recipe called for purple cabbage, which would be a beautiful color when finished.  I found savoy cabbage at my market and it seemed to hold up very well to the long braise.  As I was using a green cabbage I thought the heavy dark balsamic vinegar from Jamie Oliver's recipe would turn the dish an odd brown color.  I found a white balsamic in my cupboard and went with that, though I think apple cider vinegar would work just as nicely and add a bit more punch to the end result.

4 slices of thick sliced smoked bacon, chopped into 1/2 inch pieces
1 tsp cumin or fennel seeds
1 small onion, halved and sliced
1 apple, cut into 1/2 inch chunks
1 head of savoy cabbage, roughly chopped
2/3 cup white balsamic or apple cider vinegar
salt and pepper to taste

In a large skillet, cook the bacon over medium heat until it is brown and (in Jamie Oliver's words) slightly sticky.  Toss in the cumin seeds and saute for a moment until they are fragrant.  Add the onions, stir and cover the pan.  Cook until the onions become wilted and slightly translucent (about 5 minutes).

Add the apples, cabbage and vinegar and stir to combine ingredients well.  Lower the heat to low, replace the lid and cook, stirring occasionally, for an hour.  The cabbage will be wilted and silky and the vinegar will have been absorbed almost completely.  Serve right away.

Tomato and Cheese Galette {A Tuesdays with Dorie Post}

As I sit here trying to organize my thoughts this evening, I am eating a bowl of my Mom's homemade chicken and orzo soup still buzzing with excitement from a fun night out.  I was invited to the Friends and Family preview evening for the newest Whole Foods to open up in the area.  That's a post for a different time, but let's just say that I found myself giddy to be standing in a grocery store being poured a local pinot noir at a bar built into an Airstream.  It was really fun (and the pinot was excellent!).

The sight of all of the signs pointing out the locally produced (and hyper locally as well- that means within a 5 mile radius of the store) fruits and veggies, wine, cheese, granola and other spectacular looking foods was wonderful to see, but it did make me a bit sad.  Sad that in just a few short weeks, I'll be leaving it all behind.  That's not to say that I am not in anyway looking forward to the adventures in my near future.  I fancy myself riding my bike to the local butcher, dairy farmer and Saturday market and filling up my wicker basket with all I need for the week's meals.  But I will definitely be missing my garden and the fabulous produce that we have such easy access to here in Southern California.

Most of all, I will miss the tomatoes.  I planted a full garden's worth earlier in the spring knowing that I wouldn't likely be around to enjoy the fruits of my labor.  But I couldn't bear to see the garden's brown earth remain barren where in the summers past they had been covered in cucumber vines, herbs and stakes tied with branches holding up the most beautiful of tomatoes.  The first of this years crop are just beginning to find their way into the light.  The cherry tomatoes are hanging on the vines, small and still green, but with the promise of something much more. I was hoping to have a tomato ready to eat before I moved, but I guess that's just not in the cards.

I can imagine the dark red heirloom Riesentraube tomatoes- growing right next to a patch of basil- would have been just perfect in this sweet little tart.  It's a savory tart, almost like a fancy pizza, with a crisp and flaky crust.  I'm so glad I found it.  Perhaps one day soon, in the warmth of a late European summer afternoon I might pull another out of my new (and tiny) German oven.  For now, I'll have to be happy with making the best of the few early tomatoes I can find in my own SoCal Saturday market instead.  Sad to be leaving but happy to have been here to experience it in the meantime.

Tomato and Cheese Galette
Makes 1 8-inch galette.  Adapted, only slightly, from Baking with Julia by Dorie Greenspan.
For the printable recipe, click here.

This is a Tuesdays with Dorie post, so there are plenty of other pretty pies to check out on the official page.  I decided to vary the cheese selection a bit, thinking that fontina would make a better partner for the mozzarella that the monterrey jack that was called for in the original.  I was pleased with the result and my boys enjoyed nibbling on the extra pieces of fontina as the galette baked.  That's a win-win in my book.  Oh, and the crust is to die for.  Just saying.

1 recipe of galette dough (recipe follows)

1/2 cup shredded mozzarella cheese
1/2 cup shredded fontina cheese
1/4 cup fresh basil leaves, cut into chiffonade (finely shredded) or torn
2 to 3 ripe plum tomatoes or 1 1/2 cups grape or cherry tomatoes, cut into 1/4-inch-thick slices
3 tbs grated parmesean cheese

Preheat the oven to 400° and position a rack in the lower third of the oven. Prepare a baking sheet by lining it with parchment paper.

On a lightly floured work surface, roll out the dough into an 11-inch circle that’s about 1/8 inch thick. The dough is quite soft so make sure to lift it now and then and toss some flour under it and on the top to prevent it from sticking everywhere. When you’ve accomplished the above dimensions, move it to your prepared pan. The best and easiest way to move this dough is to roll it up around your rolling pin and then unroll it onto the prepared baking sheet.

In a bowl, toss the mozzarella and fontina cheeses and basil together and then sprinkle it over the rolled out dough, leaving a 2-3 inch border. On top of the cheese, place the tomatoes in concentric circles, again leaving the couple inch border. Fold the uncovered border dough up over the filling, allowing the dough to naturally pleat as you work your way around the galette.  Sprinkle the parmesean cheese around the fluted edges of the crust.

Bake the galette for 35-40 minutes, or until the pastry is golden and crisp and the cheese is bubbly. When it’s done, allow the galette rest on the sheet for 10 minutes. Cut apart with a knife or pizza wheel and serve.

Galette Dough:

1 1/2 tbs buttermilk
2 1/2 tbs (approx.) ice water
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
2 tbs cup yellow cornmeal
1/2 tsp sugar
1/4 tsp salt
 3 1/2 tbsp cold unsalted butter, cut into 4-5 pieces

By Hand:
Stir the buttermilk and ice water together in a small bowl and set aside. Then, in a large bowl, combine the flour, cornmeal, sugar and salt and stir with a fork to mix. Drop in the butter chunks and toss them a round a bit to coat them with the flour mixture. Using a pastry blender, work the butter into the flour, working for butter pieces that range in size from bread crumbs to small peas.

Add the cold water/sour cream mixture into the dough 1 tablespoon at a time, stirring with a fork after each addition to evenly distribute the liquid. When all the mixture has been added, the dough should be moist enough to stick together when it’s pressed; if it’s not, add in more cold water, 1 teaspoon at a time. Use your hands to gather the dough together.

When you’ve gathered it together into a cohesive ball, press the dough into a disk shape, wrap in plastic and chill for at least 2 hours.

In a Food Processor:
Stir the buttermilk and ice water together in a small bowl; set aside. Put the flour, cornmeal, sugar, and salt in the work of a processor fitted with the metal blade; pulse to combine. Drop the butter pieces into the bowl and pulse 8 to 10 times or until the mixture is speckled with pieces of butter that vary in size from bread crumbs to peas. With the machine running, add the buttermilk mixture and process just until the dough forms soft, moist curds.

Remove the dough from the processor and press it into a disk. Wrap in plastic and chill for at least 2 hours.

Roasted Sweet Pepper Salsa

I'm not the world's greatest friend, I will freely admit that.  I forget to call and catch up, I don't always think to see if someone wants to walk the mall with me, I really like my alone time.  And I suppose I still have some lingering friendship issues that go way back to confrontations with some mean girls back in middle school (who doesn't have those?).  And, yes, you're right.  I'm in my late 30s so I really need to get over that.

Most of my friends are okay with my communication issues.  In fact, many of them are exactly like me.  Maybe that's why I chose them as friends.  We all get it.  We don't need to chat every day for hours on end to be close, instead we're secure enough in our friendships to call when we need each other or genuinely want to talk or get together.  And that makes those conversations, dinners or talks over a glass of wine all the more meaningful.

But as most things in life go, one of these things is not like the other.  I have one super close friend, Libby, who doesn't put up with my silence.  She holds me accountable for putting the time and effort into the friendship.  And frankly, that's what I love about her the most.  If she loves you, she'll let you know.  Out loud and with passion.  Of course you also don't want to get on her bad side, because she's just as vocal about that too.  Libby is fiercely loyal, generous with her time and talents and she will pull you along with her for the crazy ride of life all the while pulling you out of your own shell.

Libby is also the one friend who loves to cook with me.  When we lived close to each other we'd spend whole days just rummaging through cookbooks and online recipes and cooking up a storm.  Those were some of the best days ever.  And even now that we live many hundreds of miles apart, we still text photos of great dinners we've made and compare notes on techniques or recipes we'd like to try.  It's a friendship that will endure and stand out from any of the others I've had or will have in my life.  Libby is a true treasure in my life.

So I suppose it's fitting that I stole the idea for this recipe from her.  It's one of my favorite Libby dishes and one the was made to share on several of those marathon cooking days or Friday night dinners at each others' houses.  I have a feeling it will quickly become one of your favorites too.  It's a simple salsa that will brighten up a dull day and sit perfectly aside that beer with a lime in it on a summertime picnic table.  There's really nothing that compares to a freshly made salsa, and most especially this one.

Roasted Sweet Pepper Salsa
Makes 2 generous cups of salsa.  Inspired by Libby.
For the printable recipe, click here.

I often worry when I post a recipe like this that it will be too simple and unimpressive.  But then, who am I trying to impress?  And, honestly, everyone needs a perfect salsa recipe in their recipe files.  This one is mine.  It's the best with freshly made tortilla chips (just quarter those cute little corn tortillas and deep fry, then sprinkle with salt), but the bagged chips will taste just as great when paired with this salsa and a beer.  You must have the beer.  You won't regret it.  I never really measure my quantities when I make salsa, so these are approximates.  And the truth is, salsa is one of those things that you have to taste along the way anyway.  You never know how flavorful and fresh the tomatoes will taste or how spicy your pepper will be.  So try as you go and you'll get it right.

2 red, yellow or orange bell peppers or 6 of the multicolored baby bell peppers
3 large Roma or plum tomatoes, coarsely chopped
1/2 white or red onion
1 to 2 jalapeno or serrano chilies
handful (about 1/3 cup) cilantro
juice of 1 lime
salt to taste (I usually end up with 1/2 to 1 tsp)

Place the bell peppers on a baking tray in a hot oven (450 degrees) to roast, or you can place them over an open gas flame on your stove top or grill.  Roast the peppers until the skins have charred and blistered, turning occasionally.  It will take about 10-12 minutes to get them fully roasted.  Place the roasted peppers in a plastic or paper bag and seal.  When the peppers are cool enough to handle, peel the skins off and pull out the stems and seeds.  Coarsely chop the peppers.

Seed and coarsely chop the jalapeno pepper.  You may want to taste the tiniest bit to determine the amount of heat the pepper has (I usually just touch a cut end to my tongue and can judge it's heat by that tiny taste).

You can chop all of the ingredients by hand and simply mix them together.  You will get a chunky salsa if you do it that way.  If you chop by hand, simply chop all of the ingredients as finely as you like them, stir together and taste to decide how much salt you'd like and if the salsa needs any additional lime juice.  I like a smoother salsa so I use my food processor to do the work for me.  To make the salsa using a food processor, place the onion and jalapeno in the food processor and pulse several times to begin chopping.  Then add the rest of the ingredients and process until some larger pieces still remain but the salsa is mostly finely chopped.  Taste for salt and lime.

Serve with tortilla chips.  The salsa will keep, covered, in the refrigerator for 2-3 days.

Parmesean Zucchini Crisps and Herbed White Bean Hummus

I honestly have no idea what I'm going to write about today.  There is so much going through my mind that it's hard to get it to settle on one thought.  My home and world are in chaos right now and it seems my thoughts are mirroring the turmoil of my environment.  Nothing is settled, nothing is where it's supposed to be.  And it's very difficult to live like that while attempting to maintain your sanity and some semblance of a normal life.

We're getting ready to make a big move.  To a new country and a new continent.  And while the prospects of all the exploring, learning from new cultures, sampling new cuisines and expanding my understanding of my own cultural heritage are so exciting I can't believe that I will be lucky enough to spend years living in Europe, I am still terrified of the whole moving process.  I've moved before, I'm a Navy wife after all, but this is not your average move across town or even across the US.  I feel as if I might as well be moving to a new planet.  Even with all the advice I've gotten from friends who've gone through the process and even complete strangers kind enough to try to ease my fears, I know down in my gut that I will feel unprepared and utterly unglued until the day we arrive in our new home country.

My house is looking like it's come unglued these days too.  My bedroom furniture is in the living room because we hadn't yet put down that wood flooring we had intended to get taken care of two years ago.  My laundry room looks like an earthquake hit in the aftermath of the "Great Rat Saga of 2013" (a story for another day perhaps, though critter stories don't really seem to go well with food).  The master bath is half tiled and half painted and I'm sharing bathroom space with my two sons, a experience that is not highly recommended.  We're sorting through clothes and furniture, deciding what we'll need in our new home and what we can sell or store until we get back to the States several years from now. 

My mind feels as unsettled as my belongings.  Too many thoughts, too much to take care of or worry about, and no time to rest or be rearranged into a place more peaceful or calm.  I have a feeling that I will be mentally and physically exhausted until August when we might perhaps (if all goes well and the German home Gods smile upon us) be happily ensconced in a new home and may begin enjoying all that our new European surroundings have to offer.

Until then, I offer you snacks.  It's not much to look at, but I highly recommend giving the hummus a try.  It's probably the best I've ever had and the simplest too.  And maybe a good, wholesome snack will help settle my soul during the chaos of what is to come.  I wish the same peace for you.

Parmesean Zucchini Crisps
Makes enough for 1 or two people to snack on.
For the printable recipe click here.

These crisps are an easy way to eat up a surplus of summer zucchini very quickly.  It seems like a lot, but trust me, after being baked the zucchini lose quite a bit of volume and you'll be surprised at how quickly they fly out of the bowl.  I have managed to eat the whole batch all by myself!

4 small to medium zucchini
sea salt
cooking spray, an olive oil mister or coconut oil spray
2 tbs grated parmesean cheese

Preheat your oven to 225 degrees.  Line 2 baking sheets with parchment or a silicone liner (I prefer the parchment because it absorbs some of the moisture from the zucchini).

Using a mandoline or very sharp knife, slice the zucchini into 1/8 inch thick rounds (that was the number 2 setting on my mandoline).  Lay the zucchini out in a single layer on the baking sheets and lightly spray with whichever spray your prefer.  You can even lightly brush the zucchini with olive oil if that's all you have.  Very lightly sprinkle the zucchini with the sea salt.  You don't want to over salt them because as they cook they will shrink and lose moisture and the salt will become concentrated.  I use maybe a tsp for all of the zucchini, perhaps even less.  Sprinkle with the cheese and place in the oven.  Bake for 1 hour and then remove from the oven.  Flip the crisps and return to the oven, rotating your baking sheets top to bottom and back to front on the way in.  Continue baking until the zucchini are completely crispy, 30-40 minutes.

The crisps only stay crispy for a short while, so enjoy them right away.  You may be able to re-crisp them in a warm oven for a few minutes if you have leftovers.  But all that zucchini ends up being eaten very quickly!

Herbed White Bean Hummus
Makes about 2 cups.

This is by far the easiest hummus I've ever made.  There's no tahini to stir in or peeling of garbanzo beans.  You could, of course, cook your own beans and you might get a better hummus as a result.  But honestly, how many of us are going to do that just for a snack?  I simply used canned white beans and was extremely happy with the texture and flavor.  Use whatever herbs you have growing in your garden or hanging out in your crisper drawer.  That's the beauty of a dip like this, there are no set rules.  I used thyme and rosemary and found it to be just to my liking.  I briefly saute the garlic and herbs to bring out the flavor and mellow the garlic a bit, but it isn't absolutely necessary.  If you're in a pinch, just throw it all in the blender and go for it!

1 can white (or cannellini) beans
juice of 1 lemon
1 clove garlic, minced
4 tbs chopped fresh herbs (such as rosemary, thyme, basil, parsley or chives)
4 tbs olive oil
salt and pepper to taste

In a small saute pan, heat 1 tbs of the olive oil along with the garlic and herbs.  Cook over medium heat for a few minutes, just until the garlic is fragrant the herbs wilt a bit.

Place all of the remaining ingredients into a blender or food processor.  Add the warm garlic and herbs and blend until smooth. 

Serve with pita, cucumber and carrot sticks, sliced radishes and the zucchini crisps.  Refrigerate any unused hummus in a covered container.

Marinated Artichoke Hearts

I am not known to be the world's best gardener.  But I am giving it my all and for the past couple of years have had a pretty successful herb and vegetable garden.  Of course, most of the credit must go to the garden-perfect Southern California sunshine and temperatures.  And automatic sprinklers.  Seriously, whoever invented those things is my hero.  I always set out with the best of intentions when I plant flowers, herbs and veggies, but if I plant them anywhere out of the reach of the sprinklers I might as well just kiss them goodbye.

I will forget to water.  I just will.  And I know it.  Sigh....

But in a place where the artichoke plants are a perennial (come back year after year, for you non-garden types), even I can feel like an accomplished gardener.  This year I had four plants that stuck around from last spring with their big, fern-like silvery green leaves.  The plants are actually quite pretty and I would totally put them in my front yard landscape.  If you're wondering, this variety is called Purple of Romagna and the flowers (aka the part that you eat) is a pretty purple color and the petals are a bit spikier than the more familiar globe artichokes.  I grew them from seed.  Yup, I did that.  And, boy, have they produced for me this spring.

My husband loves those marinated artichoke hearts that come on antipasto plates.  So I have been trying to duplicate their flavor at home for a couple of years.  Unsuccessfully.  He always eats them, mind you, but they're never quite right.  The bumper crop of baby artichokes I had inspired me to give it one more try.  And after steaming, grilling and pan roasting what seemed like a mountain of artichokes, I needed something different. 

Paydirt!  I have found the magical balance between vinegar, spice, oil, and herbs to make my hubby go "Mmmmmmmm".  And boy, would I have been bummed had it not been right.  Those little chokes need quite a bit of prep work to get them into fighting shape, ahem, ready for their dunk in the marinade.  But it was all worth it for the look of satisfaction on my husband's face as he stabbed the first one straight from the jar.

If you can still find artichokes in your market, especially small ones, I beesech you to try these just once.  They're so much better than the ones in that olive bar at your grocery store.

Marinated Artichoke Hearts
Makes 3 pint jars.  Adapted from The Art of Preserving, by Rick Field, Lisa Atwood and Rebecca Courchesne.
For the printable recipe, click here.

The difficulty here is not in the recipe itself, but in the prep work.  But if you can stand the few (or 20) minutes it may take you to remove the outer leaves and chokes from the artichokes, you'll be well rewarded.  One of the great things about a recipe like this is that you can adapt the recipe to your liking.  Add more garlic, take away the lemon peel, or use the herbs that you have in your kitchen.  For us, this combination hits the sweet spot.  The recipe makes three jars of artichoke hearts, one to eat as soon as it's ready and the other two to store in the back of the fridge to pull out for unexpected company or to give to friends (who will thank you profusely!).

5 lbs baby or smallish artichokes
juice of 2 lemons, plus 6 tbs
1 cup white vinegar
1/2 cup rice wine vinegar
1 tbs plus 1 tsp kosher or sea salt
zest of two lemons, removed in strips with a vegetable peeler or cocktail zester
3 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
red pepper flakes (1 pinch per jar)
2  1/2 tbs chopped fresh herbs (I used 1 tbs each chopped parsley and basil and 1 tsp each chopped chives and sage)
1 tsp black peppercorns
6 tbs olive oil

You will need 3 hot, sterilized pint jars and their lids at the ready.  You can accomplish this by either washing the jars and then heating them in a hot water bath for at least 10 minutes, or running them through the sterilize cycle on your dishwasher right before use.

Fill a large bowl halfway with water and stir in the juice of 2 lemons.  Working quickly with 1 artichoke at a time, begin peeling off the tougher outer layers of leaves until you get to the pale, tender inner leaves.  Cut about 1/2 inch off the top of the artichoke, cut off any remaining dark leaves from the base,  then cut the artichoke into quarters lengthwise.  Immediately immerse the artichokes in the lemon water to prevent browning.  Repeat with the remaining artichokes.

Remove the artichokes with a slotted spoon and place them in a large saucepan over medium heat.  Add in 1/4 cup of the lemon water from the bowl.  Cover and cook until just tender, about 10 minutes.  Remove the artichokes from the pot and return them to the lemon water.  Stir in a handful of ice cubes to stop the artichokes from cooking further.

Meanwhile, in a medium saucepan, combine the 6 tbs lemon juice, vinegars, and salt.  Add 1 1/2 cups water and bring to a boil.  Stir to dissolve the salt.

Using your prepared jars, evenly divide the lemon zest strips, garlic, peppercorns and herbs amongst the three jars.  Tightly pack the cooled artichoke hearts into the jars to within 1 inch of the rim.  Ladle the hot bring into the jars, leaving about 3/4 inch of headspace at the top.  Add 2 tbs olive oil to each jar.  This should bring the headspace to 1/4-1/2 inch.  Wipe the rims and seal the jars tightly.

Leave the jars undisturbed on the counter for 24 hours, then refrigerate.  Shake the jars daily to distribute the seasonings for 1 week, at which time the artichokes will be ready to eat.  Keep the jars refrigerated.  They will keep for up to another 2 weeks.

Dark Chocolate Beet Brownies

These brownies were never really meant to be part of a blog post.  The photos were an afterthought- taken in the last remaining minutes of afternoon light in between moments of stirring the risotto for dinner- more because I've gotten in the habit of photographing my food "just because" than with any real intent on sharing them.  It's funny how things happen, though, isn't it?  Because here they are in full view for the world to see....Despite the fact that I reassured my neighbor that the recipe wasn't going to show up in her inbox the day after I shared a brownie from my first batch with her. Sorry Jackie. I lied!

Okay, so it wasn't really a lie if I honestly had no intentions on writing out the recipe for all of you lovely friends to see, right? 

Thank you. 

I feel better.

I suppose my motivation for sharing comes from a compliment I got from the two sweet girls who run my CSA pickup.  One had seen my impromptu sharing of batch #1 of these brownies on Facebook and had asked about it at pickup a couple of days ago.  It turns out they wanted to share my blog address with the other folks who pick up their boxes here in town.  I am (and was, and will continue to be) flattered by the praise that Jennifer and Julianna gave me that morning and again in their email to the other CSA members. 

It really means a lot to me that my photos, food and stories are meaningful to anyone else besides my own little self.  And it was all because of a quick Instagram shot of these brownies.  You just never know, do you?  So thank you ladies for your kind words and for your smiles and warm greetings every Tuesday morning.  These brownies are for you.

Dark Chocolate Beet Brownies
Makes 16 brownies.  Adapted from this recipe in Sacramento Magazine by Adrienne Capps who writes the blog Vegetarianized.
For the printable recipe, click here.

Believe it or not, it's actually very difficult to find a good beet brownie recipe.  There are zillions of brownie recipes that use applesauce or even black beans as a substitute for all or part of the fat and just as many recipes for cakes that take advantage of the flavor and moisture that beets provide.  But brownies featuring beets are few and far between.  The recipe I found and ended up adapting was healthy but not so ridiculously healthy that I still felt in my comfort zone with it.  I did end up swapping out the butter for oil, making the cocoa darker and richer and losing and egg for a bit more fudginess.  In my second go-round with the brownies I tried using melted dark chocolate when I realized I didn't have enough cocoa, but the texture suffered for it.  So I'm sharing the recipe the way I originally fell in love with it.

2 large beets, peeled
3 large eggs
2/3 cup brown sugar
2/3 cup sugar
1/2 cup oil
2 tsp vanilla extract
1 1/4 cup cocoa powder (Hershey's makes a dark chocolate cocoa powder that I like to use in these brownies)
3/4 cup all purpose flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp kosher or sea salt
1 cup chocolate chips, at least 60% cocao

In a medium saucepan, cover the beets with water by an inch.  Place the pot over medium high heat and bring the water to a boil.  Reduce the heat to medium and simmer the beets until they are soft enough to easily be pierced through the center with a knife, about 25 minutes.  Drain the beets and puree them.  You may need to add a tablespoon or two of water to the beets to get them to puree smoothly, Add only what you need.  Set the beet puree aside to cool.

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees.

In a large bowl whisk together the eggs, oil,  and sugars.  Add the vanilla extract and beet puree and whisk to fully combine.  Mix the flour, cocoa powder, baking powder and salt into the wet ingredients.  Stir in the chocolate chips. 

Pour the batter into a 9x13 inch baking pan that has been sprayed with cooking spray or lined with foil or parchment.  Bake for about 30 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the center of the brownies comes out clean but still moist.  Cool the brownies completely before cutting.  They will keep in an airtight container for 3 days.

Caramelized Shallot Soup with Parmesean Croutons

This is a case of "when life hands you shallots"....

And when I say shallots, I mean mountains of them.  I love my CSA, but since I don't get to pick the produce that goes in your box it can sometimes be a challenge to manage what comes to me each week.  Trust me, I know how lucky I am to be able to get the organic produce that I get all year long, so this is certainly NOT a complaint.  Just an observation.  For example, had I been able to choose what I get, I would have realized that the first pile of shallots I got a few weeks ago would have been enough to sustain us for quite a while.  I would not have chosen to get more the next week.  Or the next.  But I'm at the mercy of the farmers, so the pile of shallots just kept on growing in my pantry.

At some point I realized that I was not going to be able to use up these shallots by occasionally adding one to my favorite chicken salad or vinaigrette.  So what do you do when you've got a mountain of shallots that need to be used?  Make soup!  French onion is one of my favorites and, in my opinion, one of the ways to tell a really good restaurant from just a decent one.  So I set out to turn my proverbial lemons into lemonade and began the slightly painful process of peeling and slicing.  I didn't have all the necessary ingredients on hand so I improvised.  And in the end I managed to take down that mountain of shallots and make a darn good soup.  I gotta say, I like my version.  A lot.

Caramelized Shallot Soup with Parmesean Croutons
Serves 4-6 people. 
For a printable version, click here.

This is a very simple soup to prepare.  But it does take a bit of time to really get the shallots well caramelized.  I'd say you need about an hour and a half between the prep time (there's a lot of slicing!) and cooking.  I've added herbs de Provence to the soup, which is a bit unconventional, but it's my nod to the French and adds a nice background flavor.  If you don't have any, you could certainly use a bit more fresh thyme or even a tiny bit of rosemary.  The shot of soy sauce at the end is a trick I learned from Cooks Illustrated to give the soup a bit of depth and that elusive umami flavor that it would be lacking otherwise.  I promise it won't taste like chinese food.

6 cups sliced shallots (about 12-14 large shallots)
2 tbs butter
1 tbs olive oil
1 tbs chopped garlic
2 sprigs fresh thyme
1 cup light wheat beer (such as a white wheat or even a hefewiezen)
4 cups good chicken stock or low sodium chicken broth
2 tsp herbs de Provence
1 tsp salt
pich black pepper
1 tbs low sodium soy sauce

5 slices good country white bread or ciabatta, cut into 1 inch cubes
2 tbs butter, melted
1/2 cup shredded or shaved parmesean cheese


Heat the butter and olive oil in a large, heavy bottomed pot.  Add the shallots and cook, stirring often, over medium heat until they are very soft and turn a medium golden color.  Add the thyme sprigs and the garlic and stir until the garlic is fragrant, about 1 minute more.  Pour in the beer and stir, scraping the browned bits from the bottom of the pot.  Allow the beer to simmer until it is reduced by half, another 3-5 minutes.  Add the broth, soy sauce, herbs de Provence, salt and pepper and stir.  Simmer the soup, uncovered, for 30 minutes.

While the soup is simmering, preheat your oven to 375 degrees.  On a baking sheet, toss the bread cubes and butter.  Sprinkle the cubes with half of the parmesean.  Place the baking sheet in the oven and bake the croutons until lightly browned and the cheese begins to melt, about 5 minutes.  Toss the croutons on the baking sheet and sprinkle with the rest of the cheese. Return to the oven and continue baking until the cheese is golden and bubbly, another few minutes.  Remove from the oven and set aside until the soup is ready.

Remove the thyme sprigs from the soup at the end of the 30 minutes.  Serve in warmed soup bowls topped with a handful of croutons.

Roasted Broccoli Soup

I have discovered my all time favorite way to prepare broccoli.  It involves the oven, some olive oil, salt pepper and garlic.  15 minutes later the broccoli emerges roasted with crispy/salty edges and tender stems.  ah.  may.  zing.  I can't seem to get enough.  Never, ever again will I steam or blanch my broccoli into a green mush.  It's a crime against nature and I vow never again to participate in the mushifying (I know, not a word, but fun nonetheless) of a perfectly lovely and crisp vegetable.  Those little trees were meant to stand tall and I just want to shake any person who serves me floppy broccoli.  Instead, I beg you, roast your broccoli and you will wonder at how  nuanced in flavor broccoli can be or how a bit of dark brown crispiness on the tops of the florets can be so satisfying.  It's truly a vegetable revelation.

So then I guess it's a good thing that both my garden and my CSA farmers seem to growing broccoli at an amazing rate right now.  It's like my broccoli dreams come true.  I've got several big sturdy heads hanging out in the crisper drawer just begging to be roasted.  If only I didn't have to hear the rumblings at dinner of "broccoli again?" my beloved roasted broccoli would be a daily staple.  So okay, I needed a way to use up a big quantity of broccoli and what better way to do that than a soup?  I did a quick creamy broccoli soup with potatoes last year about this time for just the same reason.  Only this time I decided to treat the broccoli as I would sturdier soup fare like carrots or squash and roast it first.  Just like that my favorite side dish has become a soup that has an enormous amount of depth and great broccoli flavor.  And I, for one, am happily satisfied with the result.

Roasted Broccoli Soup
Serves 4.
For a printable recipe, click here.

This soup makes a wonderful lunch with a hunk of crusty bread.  The broccoli flavor is intensified by the addition of a whole head of roasted garlic and a splash of lemon juice. I suggest topping it off with a pile of grated gruyere cheese- it takes the soup from the realm of really good to extraordinary in no time flat.  By the way, if you just wanted to make the roasted broccoli you would simply add a bit of finely chopped garlic to the roasting pan when tossing the florets and follow the roasting directions.

2 large heads broccoli, separated into florets
1 head garlic
olive oil
1/2 medium onion, coarsely chopped
4 cups low sodium chicken broth (you could easily use water or vegetable broth to make it vegetarian)
1 tsp fresh thyme leaves
1-2 tbs lemon juice
salt and pepper to taste
grated gruyere, for topping soup

Preheat your oven to 425 degrees.

Peel the outer paper from the head of garlic.  Slice the top off of the head, exposing the cloves of garlic.  Place the head on a sheet of aluminum foil and drizzle it with about 2 tsp olive oil.  Wrap the foil around the garlic to form a packet and place the packet in the oven to roast for 20 minutes

In the meantime, spread the broccoli florets on a baking sheet.  Drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper.  Toss.  Place the baking sheet into the oven at the end of the first 20 minutes of the garlic's baking time.  Roast for 15 minutes, turning the broccoli over about halfway through the cooking time.  Remove from the oven.  The garlic should also be done at this time- look for it to be golden and the cloves soft.

In a dutch oven or large pot, heat 1 tbs olive oil over medium high heat  When hot add the onions and turn the heat down to medium.  Saute the onions until translucent, about 5 minutes, stirring often.  Add the roasted broccoli, thyme and chicken stock and bring to a simmer.  Simmer for 5 minutes or until the broccoli is very tender.  Squeeze the roasted cloves of garlic from the head that you set aside earlier and add them to the pot of soup.  Blend in batches or with an immersion blender until the soup is smooth.  If you use a blender, be sure not to fill your vessel up more than halfway as hot soup expands when blended and could cause burns.  Return the blended soup to the pot and add 1 tbs lemon juice.  Taste for seasoning adding more salt, pepper or lemon juice as desired.

Ladle into soup bowls and served topped with grated gruyere cheese.