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Posts tagged ‘roasted’

roasted cauliflower & hazelnut salad

Another vegetable dish, fit for a feast, made before the rush ~ and one that likes the temperature of the room, right where you set it.

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In the fall, my mum buys big burlap bags of nuts and over the course of the winter she shells them, roasts them then puts them away, mostly for baking. Her house still smelled of an alder wood fire and roasting hazelnuts when I showed up. It was a very lucky day for me to have a sweet long visit with my mom and to walk away with my pockets bulging nuts. My luck didn’t end there because I’d just bought a beautiful organic cauliflower and (several) pomegranates without a plan. And in my newest cookbook, a dish that paired them all together. Kismet! Somedays, things just can’t get much better.

One more recipe from the sumptuous new cookbook of Yotam Ottolenghi (Jerusalem) and then we’ll give the poor man a rest.

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Roasted Cauliflower & Hazelnut Salad

(serves 4 as a small side)

1 head Cauliflower, broken into small florets (1½ lb, 660 g)

5 Tablespoons Olive Oil – divided

1 large Celery Stalk, cut on an angle in ¼-inch slices

5 Tablespoons Hazelnuts, their skins on (30 g)

1/3 cup Parsley Leaves, picked

1/3 cup Pomegranate seeds (from about ½ medium pomegranate)

generous ¼ teaspoon ground Cinnamon

generous ¼ teaspoon ground Allspice

1 Tablespoon Sherry Vinegar

1½ teaspoons Maple Syrup

Salt & Pepper to taste

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Preheat the oven to 425°F 220ºC

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Japanese turnips

Wegetable Vednesday, alweady?!

Portland Farmers’ Market

I did get some close-up shots of these beautiful beets and Japanese turnips. But how could I resist including this beautiful arm, itself nearly the color of the earth, laced with its branches and roots?

Portland Park Blocks Farmers’ Market – Saturday April 28, 2012

This is a wonderful farmers’ market, its tents and stalls spreading beneath a canopy of old trees that forms one long park through downtown. Vegetables, fruits, herbs, artisinal breads, pizzas, honeys and jams, every sort of baked good, shrubs and small trees, starts for your garden, children in strollers, bags brimming, fiddlers fiddling, sun and rain and fresh, everywhere earthly fresh. I had enough to carry so left my money in the car blocks and blocks away, knowing that Guinea Pig always carries cash. I left my very big-girl camera at home and brought something smaller. I was happily snapping away, when the camera suddenly seized. Already it was done for the day, and I’d only just started. OK then, time to fill our own basket to brimming. But with all the glorious goodness around us, how would we choose? It became simpler than expected when my husband brought out his crumpled $9, the sum total of what we had. Ruby beets, pale pretty turnips, and rainbow carrots. $3 a bunch. Cash broke and done.

Turnips have never appeared solo in our house, but always as part of a roasted vegetable medley or a soup or stock. Wanting to keep this simple though, I roasted these pretty little things with a bit of olive oil, a scattering of thyme from the garden and flaky salt and white pepper. When they were done, they’d sit on a bed of turnip greens drizzled with balsamic.

Roasted Japanese Turnips & their Balsamic Greens

bunch young Japanese turnips with greens

a dozen sprigs of fresh thyme

olive oil

salt & pepper

shallot

drizzle honey

squeeze fresh lemon (Meyer especially good)

white balsamic vinegar

Remove the greens from the turnips, leaving an inch or two of the stalks still attached. Gently scrub the turnips. (No need to peel.) Wash the greens, and then cut in approximately half, keeping the thicker stalks separate from the more delicate leaves. Set greens aside. For easy clean up, line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Cut the turnips in half from top to bottom and place cut-side up on the baking sheet. Drizzle with olive oil, scatter with salt and pepper, toss sprigs of thyme about. Place in a 400°F oven for about 20 minutes. Using tongs, flip the turnips over and continue cooking until tender. (May be about another 20 minutes.)

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lemon-roasted potatoes & Jerusalem artichokes with bay & garlic

Who played loose with the facts and came up with  the name “Jerusalem Artichoke”? It’s neither artichoke nor does it hail from Jerusalem. They look somewhat like ginger root on the outside, all knobby, more like a small potato when you cut them open. Texture more like water chestnut, crisp and crunchy when raw. Flavor, sweeter than a potato, far more flavor than a water chestnut. And when paired with potatoes, scrumptious!

If you can’t find these little tubers, use all potatoes instead. You might try pairing reds and Yukon golds for extra color on your plate.

I’ve roasted them together here, in good olive oil, slices and juice of lemon, aromatic bay leaves and garlic. (Did you know how very well lemon goes with potatoes? In light of how delicious, it’s surprising how well-kept a secret that is.)

To the nearly finished potatoes, you could add halved cherry tomatoes, or Kalamata olives. You could increase the garlic to 4 cloves if you and your love agree to eat them together. You could add dried mint or oregano. You have options, depending on which direction you’d like to take your meal. But here’s a very delicious beginning…

Lemon-Roasted Potatoes & Jerusalem Artichokes with Bay & Garlic

(about 4 servings)

  • 1 pound (500 g) Yukon gold potatoes
  • 1 pound (500 g) Jerusalem Artichokes
  • 2 lemons, washed, then sliced in ¼-inch slices (seeds removed)
  • 2 Tablespoons very good Extra Virgin Olive Oil
  • 2 Tablespoons lemon juice
  • 2 bay leaves (fresh, if possible – if they’re more than a year old, they’ll have little flavor left)
  • 2 whole garlic cloves, crushed (but not chopped)
  • Salt
  • Pepper

Optional additions: dried mint or oregano, cherry tomatoes halved, Kalamata olives, more garlic.

Wash the potatoes and put them whole into a pot of cold water. Bring to a boil, reduce temperature to a gentle simmer. Cook for 15 minutes then pour the pot’s contents into a colander. When potatoes have cooled enough to handle, cut them in half or quarters, depending on their size.

While the potatoes are cooking, prepare the Jerusalem artichokes. Peel their skins and cut in approximately 2-inch pieces (5 cm). Don’t worry if you can’t remove all the peel. It won’t matter in the end at all.

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some new flavors for an old favorite – marinated turkey breast

Marinate a turkey breast for 24 hours in the flavors of the Mediterranean, and you no longer have our pilgrims’ roasted turkey. You have instead something that feels like it was infused with sun, bright and fresh and right for Spring.

Marinated Turkey Breast with Cumin, Coriander & White Wine

serves 4 to 6

  • 4 Tablespoon mint leaves
  • 4 Tablespoons parsley leaves
  • 4 Tablespoon cilantro (fresh coriander leaves)
  • 1 clove garlic, peeled
  • 2 ounces (60 ml) lemon juice
  • 2 ounces (60 ml) olive oil
  • 4 ounces (125 ml) white wine
  • ½ teaspoon ground cumin
  • ½ teaspoon salt
  • ½ teaspoon black pepper
  • ½ small organic or free-range turkey breast (about 2 pounds or 1 kg)

Put all the ingredients except the turkey breast in a food processor or blender (of course, YOU knew not to put your turkey in the blender!) and process for 1 to 2 minutes to get a smooth marinade. Put the turkey in a non-metallic container and pour the marinade over it. (My preferred method is to put the turkey in a zip lock freezer bag – gallon size – and pour marinade over top. Zip tight!) Refrigerate for 24 hours. Be sure that the turkey is immersed in the sauce.

Preheat the oven to 425°F (220°C). Remove the turkey from its marinade (but reserving the marinade for later. Put the turkey on a roasting tray. Place in the oven and roast for 15 minutes, then reduce the temperature to 390°F (200°C). Continue to cook for 15 minutes, then reduce the temperature again to 355°F (180°C). Cook until the turkey is done – another 30 to 45 minutes. To check for doneness, you have a couple options – insert instant-read thermometer into the thickest part of the breast ~ ~ ~ 165°F ( 74.5°C) indicates done. Or insert a small knife all the way into the center; it should come out hot.) If the meat browns too far in advance of doneness, cover with a tent of aluminum foil and continue cooking.

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cumin-roasted carrots

Occasionally my mother’s teachings on moderation are forgotten and I become a pig. There aren’t many foods with that kind of power over me. There’s absolutely nothing virtuous about the fact that it’s not Oreos or potato chips…they simply don’t have my number. But here is one that does. To my mind’s mouth, this is a flavor combination made in heaven. I’m not asking for sympathy, but it’s not easy keeping enough carrots on hand to feed this crazy addiction.

Nothing could be simpler. No recipe required. Pluck from the ground (if you’re so lucky) or buy from the market the best looking fresh young, slender carrots you can find. Seeing their green tops looking fresh and perky lets you know these carrots have not been sitting in a cooler or in open bins overly long, losing their crispness, their nutritional value or their juicy sweetness. (I’d avoid cellophane-wrapped carrots for this preparation if you can.)

Remove their tops, leaving about an inch or so. This will serve as a little handle if you choose to forget your manners as I sometimes do. You can peel them if you want, but with these young carrots, so newly-plucked from the ground, it’s not necessary. Simply run them under cold water and scrub them well with a vegetable brush, paying close attention to where the carrot meets the green. Roll them in a towel to dry them.

If your carrots are a little wider than “slender” you can slice them lengthwise.

Lie them on a baking sheet (lining with parchment paper will help greatly in the clean-up afterwards.) Drizzle with enough olive oil to coat as you roll them in it. Scatter quite liberally with slightly crushed cumin seeds. (1½ to 2 teaspoons per bunch is about right.) Sprinkle coarse sea salt over all. A few good grinds of pepper.

Place in a preheated 400°F (200°C) oven and roast for about 30 to 40 minutes, depending on thickness. The skinny tips will get very browned. The sweet juices will have caramelized. The cumin will turn into crispy little bits of the most carrot-complimenting flavor, and the carrots themselves will practically melt in your mouth. These have a rustic, as opposed to polished, charm about them. If you’re looking for something highly refined, this might not be it. But if you’re looking for one of the best-tasting carrots your mouth has known, this one’s bound to be in the running. Read more

roasted chicken with sumac, za’atar and lemon

I’ve made some promises to you recently and thought with this post I might make good on a few of them at once. I’ve promised bright and fragrant dishes from sunny climates to chase the winter doldrums; I’ve promised a special Sunday dinner, and a wonderful recipe for roasted chicken.  And you clever readers might have guessed too that you’d be seeing still more of Ottolenghi here. And you are. And because we’ve talked so much of onions with the last couple spreenkles, we might as well throw them into the mix as well. This is a veritable shrmorgasbord (how in the world do you spell that word? I’ll google it!) a veritable  smörgâsbord  of promises kept.

I’ve spoken before (in the roasted eggplant with yogurt sauce and pomegranates recipe) of two spices essential in Middle Eastern cooking – you won’t find them at Safeway or Krogers. But I hope you won’t let that deter you! You can find them on line easily (google!) or at a Middle Eastern market if you have one near you. They are Sumac (powdered deep red, tart like a lemon, or cranberries, wonderful!) and a spice blend called za’atar, fragrant and delicious!  Neither is expensive at all and they’ll last you for some time. (You’ll be thinking of sending thank-you notes and possibly even flowers – I love tulips! – for suggesting you add them to your spice cupboard.)

More familiar though to your nose and palate are cinnamon and allspice. Those too become part of the amazing perfume of this dish.

I want you to know – just as an aside – that I never ever put him up to it, but sprees-grateful -guinea-pig may be chiming in on this dish. He’s positively wild for it.

The recipe is very straight-forward and simple to prepare (once you have the right ingredients.) The chicken (free-range, vegetarian-fed is best) will marinate for several hours to over-night. The flavors, other-worldly-good, and the onions, of my gosh, the onions! (You expect this from me now, right? If I love something, you won’t have a moment’s doubt about it.  I   l o v e    t h i s   d i s h !  It’s from Ottolenghi, and he’s an artist and a genius in the kitchen!  Cooking is all about a celebration of ingredients for Ottolenghi, and lucky for us, we’re invited to the party.)

Let’s start with just a little celebration of the red onion, so humble, so under-appreciated and so crazy good when prepared right…

This recipe calls for two red-onions, thinly sliced…

even their mess manages to be pretty...click on the image & you'll see

Roasted Chicken with Sumac, Za’atar and Lemon

  • 1 large organic or free-range chicken, divided into quarters – breast & wing, and leg & thigh
  • 2 red onions, thinly sliced
  • 2 garlic cloves, crushed
  • 4 Tablespoons olive oil, plus extra for drizzling
  • 1½ teaspoons ground allspice
  • 1 Tablespoon ground cinnamon
  • 1 Tablespoon sumac
  • 1 lemon, thinly sliced
  • 200 ml (almost 7 ounces) chicken stock
  • 1½ teaspoon salt
  • 1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
  • 2 Tablespoons za-atar
  • 1 generous Tablespoon (20 grams) unsalted butter
  • 1¾ ounces (50 grams) pine nuts – a generous ½ cup
  • 4 Tablespoons chopped flat-leaf parsley

In a large bowl, or ceramic baking dish, mix the chicken with the onions, garlic, olive oil, spices (except for za’atar), lemon slices, stock, salt and pepper. Cover with plastic wrap. Leave in the fridge to marinate for a few hours or overnight. Read more

Roasted Whole Chicken on the Grill

This dinner all started with kumquats – even though, in the end, it had absolutely nothing to do with kumquats. Now that I think longer about it, this dinner actually started with going out to lunch and trying to avoid a parking ticket.

Maybe it’s just me…but sometimes I like to figure out exactly how I came to be where I am from where I’d just been. It’s often an odd, circuitous path to trace –  kind of like that “six degrees of separation from Kevin Bacon” thing, if you know what I mean. Have you ever taken a long road trip with someone and after some lively conversation, there’s a period of prolonged but comfortable silence?  You think what you’re doing is watching the road or taking in all this amazing scenery, when actually, for some mysterious span of time, you’ve not been where you are at all, and suddenly out of your mouth comes something completely random and seemingly related to nothing. Do you ever then try to figure out (or even explain) how you came to be thinking that particular disjointed nonsensical thought? Well, this night’s dinner happened something like that.

Kumquats - having nothing to do with dinner

My husband and I have kind of a “custom” of going out to lunch on Saturdays. We’ll run a few errands and then pass the ball back and forth until one of us finally makes up our mind about where we’d like to eat, and then we sit across from one another talking about the week, news, politics…or sometimes something even more scintillating (if you can imagine!) We love our Saturdays together. Last week, we were following our usual practice and decided on a great little spot for lunch. We started to park in the lot across from the restaurant but realized it was designated for patrons of a grocery store. We parked there anyway –  but felt quite legal about it because we’d just drop into the market first, and then walk across the street for lunch. We had no real reason to be grocery shopping, other than ticket avoidance, but there we were.

The produce aisles always seduce me first, but for my husband, it’s the wine section. So we went our separate ways to meet up later. Weren’t kumquats all done for the season? I thought so, and had said my sad goodbyes – but no! There they were, and they were huge! – well, the biggest I’d ever seen.  I was downright delighted to see them and filled a small bag. My heart soon returned to its normal rhythm, but a little further down the aisle, the cutest little potatoes fanned out, in reds and yellows and purples! And they were smaller than the kumquats! Who ever heard of such a thing? I hadn’t, so I got handfuls of potatoes, simply because they were smaller than kumquats. And then, there was asparagus – now that’s gorgeous! That’ll be so good with those potatoes! I’ll do them together, with lemon and salt on the grill! Ah yes, the grill. Hmmm, I’ve never tried roasting a whole chicken on the grill before. I wonder if I can do that successfully? I think I’m just going to need to find that out!  And that is how I came to be here:

(You are so incredibly patient with me! Are you like this with everyone?)

Roasted Whole Chicken on the Grill

What I love about roasting a whole chicken: It’s far less expensive than buying the individual parts. It’s so straightforward and simple and after the first little bit, largely hands-off. It can be done in so many different and delicious ways…influences of French, Moroccan, Mediterranean, Spanish. Stuffed or not. Surrounded by vegetables of all different types. Sauce or not.  You can cook two at once with almost no additional labor. There’s (almost) always leftovers to turn into another meal. Then there’s the remnants that become a great stock for soups. And my husband loves it. So what’s not to like?

Cooking something on the grill for more than an hour at 400°F+ can only be done successfully using an indirect method. (In other words no coals or gas flames directly beneath the chicken.) So if you know how to cook on your grill using an indirect method, this will be easy! (If you don’t know how, just check the instructions from your grill’s manufacturer, or on line.)

Ingredients

  • 1 whole  chicken (preferably free-range, organic, humanely raised)
  • 2 lemons, 1 cut in half, the other juiced for basting
  • fresh herbs of your choice (rosemary, oregano, marjoram, parsley, sage, etc.)
  • whole garlic cloves, 2 or 3 or more, crushed but not minced
  • olive oil
  • salt & pepper

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White Bean, Sage & Roasted Garlic Spread

This is the last of the winter night’s menu that I’ll post.  There’s something both humble and luxurious about this little spread. These little white beans, so tender and plain, so very “ordinary”, haven’t an egotistical bone in their little kidney-shaped bodies.  So that’s what makes this dish humble. But the luxurious comes from the slow-cooking, the perfect herbal blend of bay leaf and sage, the aromatic sweetness and warmth of roasted garlic, the touch of richness from the olive oil, and a sunny squeeze of lemon, all puréed to silkiness. (Please don’t be put off by the large quantity of garlic called for in this recipe. I assure you that, thanks to the roasting, the ultimate taste is mild and sweet.)

White Bean, Sage, and Roasted Garlic Spread

(adapted from Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone, an older favorite of mine, by Deborah Madison)

  • 1-1/2 cups of dried navy beans or cannellini, soaked and drained (see NOTE)
  • 5 garlic cloves, skins removed
  • 10 sage leaves
  • 2 bay leaves (if your bay is more than a year-old, start with new – it makes such a difference)
  • 3 T. olive oil
  • 1 whole head garlic, outermost papery husk removed
  • Salt and freshly ground pepper
  • Juice of 1 lemon (or more)
  • 1 T chopped fresh thyme (see variations)
  • Herbes de Provence (optional)

 Boil the beans in a large pot with water enough to cover by 2 inches for 10 minutes.  Lower the heat and add the 5 cloves of garlic, the sage leaves and bay leaves and only 2 teaspoons of the olive oil.  Simmer, covered, until the beans are tender, about 1-1/2 hours.  (You can also put them in the oven at 350°F for the same amount of time. Since you’ll also be roasting garlic for this recipe at the same temperature, you may want to use the oven.)  Once the beans are tender, remove the bay leaves and drain, reserving the broth.

 

Meanwhile, if your beans are cooking on the stovetop, preheat your oven to 350°F.  Cut off the top 1/4-inch to 1/2-inch of the garlic head and rub it with a little of the remaining olive oil. Put it in a small baking dish, and add 1/3 cup of water. Cover and bake until soft and lightly caramelized, about 45 minutes. Cool, then squeeze out the softened garlic. Purée the beans in a food processor with all the garlic, the remaining olive oil (approximately 2 T), 1 teaspoon salt, and enough of the reserved bean broth to give the beans a soft, spreadable consistency. Season to taste with lemon juice and pepper, and taste again for salt. You’re sure to need more.  (I prefer a more lemony spread, so I use the juice of nearly 2 lemons, depending on their size. Go slow and taste as you go til it’s just right for your taste.)  Stir in the thyme leaves and serve either warm or at room temperature.  For serving, I like to drizzle ours with a little extra olive oil, chopped fresh parsley or thyme, freshly ground pepper and some crushed Herbes de Provence.

Variations: In the summer months, omit the sage and roasted garlic and add instead one cup of basil leaves and 2 garlic cloves pureed in 1/3 cup of extra-virgin olive oil.  Or add in place of the basil, one cup of flat Italian parsley.

Serving Suggestions: This is delicious on crostini.  (Simply brush olive oil, with a touch of salt & pepper, onto sliced French or Italian bread and toast in your oven, in a panini pan or on the grill.) Also good as part of a vegetarian sandwich, with roasted bell peppers, cucumber, cheese, etc. Good (and healthy) too as a dip for vegetables.  Or as an accompaniment to a summer grilled meal outdoors.  And of course, as part of an appetizer course for those bigger dinners with guests. My husband and I will sometimes have a dinner plate with this spread, crostini, olives, a big beautiful green salad taking up half the plate, maybe a hard-cooked egg or slice of good cheese or a piece of cold fish or chicken leftover from the night before.

NOTE on beans: For those of you unfamiliar with working with dried beans — home-cooking your own beans as opposed to using canned obviously requires more forethought and overall prep time. Once you’ve tried both, though, you’ll find that the difference really is noticeable. Home-cooked beans have more depth of flavor – especially with the sort of aromatics they’ve been cooked with here – and a better texture. But sometimes, something just has to go, so don’t hesitate trying this recipe if what you have is more canned beans than time.  If using dry beans, you can “soak” them one of two ways.  The traditional method is to cover with several inches of water and soak overnight for use the next day.  But there’s also the “quick-soak method” in which you put the beans in a pot, covered by several inches of water, and boil for five minutes, then allow the beans to soak for several hours before using in your recipe.  In both cases, when the beans have soaked, drain the soaking water and start anew with fresh.

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