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NY Times: A Golden Crunch to Carry You Into Spring

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March 18, 2011

A Golden Crunch to Carry You Into Spring

By MELISSA CLARK

TO me, crunchy fried food is hearty fare, the kind of thing I crave by the bucket in the frigid cold. But spring is middle ground, when the call for golden crackly fried morsels still rings loud, but so does the siren song of salad.

With the mercury rising past 50 degrees one recent balmy evening, I found myself craving both. So I made a fried calamari salad, bulked out with baby arugula.

And since I didn’t want to wait for the oil to heat up in a deep-fry, I decided to shallow-fry. The rule of thumb with shallow frying is that the oil in the pan should cover a little more than half the morsel of food you lower into it. Once that morsel thoroughly browns on one side, you flip it so it browns nicely on the other side.

Naturally, smaller tidbits like squid are perfectly suited to this method, particularly the tentacles, which turn potato-chip crisp on the ends while the centers stay moist and springy.

To further cut the richness of the fried squid, I added some thin lemon wedges to the oil, allowing the peels to caramelize while the pulp crisped into thin, tart wafers that melted when you bit down.

Frying squid and lemons was the extent of my plan, but once the oil was hot, I found that I didn’t want to stop.

In the refrigerator were some maitake mushrooms I’d intended to roast, but I knew from past flights of frying that maitakes — with all their little nooks and crevices — turn into brittle, crunchy strands. I thought their earthiness would be a nice match with the tanginess of the arugula.

So I cut the them into squiggly slivers and shallow-fried them, too. Then I tossed them with the squid and the lemons, adding the arugula and some grated Parmesan for depth and fresh lemon juice for brightness.

Before the arugula had time to wilt, I gobbled everything up. It was a light meal with a golden crunch, just what the season ordered.

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March 18, 2011

Crispy Calamari, Lemon and Maitake Salad Over Arugula

Time: 45 minutes

 

1 tablespoon lemon juice

1 teaspoon kosher salt, more for seasoning

1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper, more for seasoning

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil 

1/2 pound squid, rinsed and patted dry

1 lemon, plus additional wedges for garnish

1/4 cup fine cornmeal

1/4 cup all-purpose flour

Olive oil, for frying

1/4 pound maitake mushrooms, cut into bite-size pieces

8 cups baby arugula

1 ounce Parmesan, shaved.

 

1. To make the dressing, in a small bowl whisk together the lemon juice, 1/2 teaspoon salt and pinch of pepper until the salt dissolves. Whisk in the olive oil.

2. To prepare the squid and lemon, cut the squid tentacles in half and the bodies into 1/4-inch rings. Slice the lemon lengthwise into quarters and then thinly slice each quarter crosswise, discarding any seeds. In a wide shallow bowl, whisk together the cornmeal, flour, the remaining 1/2 teaspoon salt and 1/2 teaspoon pepper. Dredge the squid and lemon slices in the cornmeal mixture.

3. Heat 1/2 inch oil to 350 degrees in a large, straight-sided skillet. Frying in batches to avoid crowding, cook the mushrooms until golden, about 1 minute per batch. Using a slotted spoon, transfer them to a paper-towel-lined plate and sprinkle with salt. Repeat with the squid, followed by the lemon slices.

4. In a large bowl, toss the arugula, mushrooms, squid and lemon slices with the dressing. Add the Parmesan and toss gently once more. Serve with lemon wedges.

Yield: 4 to 6 servings.

WSJ: The Art of the Artichoke

FOOD & DRINK
MARCH 12, 2011

The Art of the Artichoke

Five simple recipes for one of spring's finest treats.

By DORIE GREENSPAN

Sure, the brave man who first dared to eat an oyster is a culinary hero, but let's give a shout-out to the adventurous soul who first tackled an artichoke, battling its tough, prickle-topped leaves and going mano-a-mano with its choke, the fuzz-ball at its center that's capable of living up to its name.

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David Prince for The Wall Street Journal, Food Styling by Brett Kurzweil, Prop Styling by Robyn Glaser

Dish, clockwise from top left: Artichoke, dandelion and pecorino salad with mandarin dressing; baby artichokes, asparagus and potatoes with herb mayonnaise; grilled mahi-mahi with artichoke caponata; baby artichokes marinated in olive oil.

One can chalk the virgin degustation up to wild hunger, but it's fun to think that when our man returned for seconds it was because he had excellent taste, albeit with a quirky bent. An artichoke has a singular flavor that's a fooler. It starts out simply nutty and sweet and then, bite after bite, builds until it seems to fill your mouth, leaving not a speck of space for anything else that isn't sharp, acidic, citrusy or just plain pushy.

In Europe, the vegetable (really a flower) is treated like a rock star and its early-spring appearance gets a welcome worthy of Persephone, while in Castroville, Calif., the artichoke capital of America, there's an annual festival with a grand parade and nonstop music. For the rest of us, there's the supermarket, where we can count on finding two kinds of artichokes: the globe, which is large, green and bulbous; and the baby, which is small, pointy, usually chokeless and good-to-go raw.

Big or small, look for artichokes with tightly closed leaves and be prepared to do a little trimming and scooping to get to the choicest morsel, the heart. The job's quick, easy and oddly satisfying—you can go from novice to pro in a couple of tries—though we dare you to stop at a couple.

—Ms. Greenspan's latest cookbook is "Around My French Table."

The Recipes:

Classic Boiled Artichokes

The ideal first course and ice-breaker: It's hard to be formal when you're eating with your fingers, a must with artichokes. Serves 4

4 large, firm, tight-leaved globe artichokes
1 lemon, cut in half
Herb mayonnaise (see Chris Israel's Mixed Grill recipe) or vinaigrette

What to do:

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What better way to ring in spring than with these spiky delights?

For each artichoke, break off the tough outer leaves from two or three rows around the base, always rubbing any exposed areas with lemon. Cut the stem flush with the base, then slice about 1½ inches off the top of the artichoke. Finally, using scissors, snip across whatever leaves still have sharp spines.

Bring a large pot of salted water to the boil, squeeze in the lemon juice and toss in the lemon and the artichokes. Put a heatproof plate on top of the artichokes to keep them submerged and boil gently until a knife inserted into the base barely meets resistance, 20 to 40 minutes (depending on size).

Remove the artichokes and when they're cool enough to handle, run the tops under cold water—the petals will open like a flower. Reach in, pull out the center leaves to expose the choke and use a small knife or grapefruit spoon to scrape away the fuzz. Rinse and drain upside down on a rack.

Serve at room temperature or chilled (artichokes keep covered in the refrigerator for 24 hours), filling the center with mayonnaise or vinaigrette.

Baby Artichokes Marinated in Olive Oil

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David Prince for The Wall Street Journal, Food Styling by Brett Kurzweil, Prop Styling by Robyn Glaser

Baby Artichokes Marinated in Olive Oil

The all-around artichoke, good in a salad or blended into a dip; use the marinade as a dressing. Serves 4

1 cup water
1 cup cider vinegar
1 teaspoon fine sea salt
8 fresh or dried bay leaves
10 baby artichoke hearts, halved
About 1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil

What to do:

In a large saucepan, combine the water with the vinegar, salt and 4 bay leaves. Add the artichokes and bring to a simmer over medium heat. Simmer until the artichokes are tender but still offer a bit of resistance when pierced with a knife, 12 to 18 minutes. Drain, discarding the vinegar mixture and bay leaves.

While the artichokes are still warm, arrange them in layers in a sterilized canning jar (or jars). Arrange the remaining 4 bay leaves around the sides of the jar. Cover the artichokes completely with oil. Set aside until the artichokes are completely cool, then cover.

The artichokes can be consumed as soon as they are cool, but will have even greater depth of flavor if allowed to marinate in oil for at least 24 hours. (Store in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 2 months, making sure that the artichokes are always covered in oil.)

Variation: To turn these marinated artichokes into a flavorful spread or dip, drain the artichokes, reserving the oil, and place them in a food processor or a blender; then blend to a smooth puree, adding as much of the reserved oil as necessary. Any leftover liquid can be used as a base for a vinaigrette or as a vinaigrette itself.

—Adapted from "Salad as a Meal," by Patricia Wells

Grilled Fish with Artichoke Caponata

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David Prince for The Wall Street Journal, Food Styling by Brett Kurzweil, Prop Styling by Robyn Glaser

Grilled Fish with Artichoke Caponata

Made-in-a-flash, sweet-sour caponata is great with fish, on grilled bread or over pasta. Serves 6

1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for rubbing
4 tender celery ribs, diced
1 onion, finely chopped
3 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
1/2 cup tomato sauce
1/2 cup dry white wine
1/4 cup white wine vinegar
10 marinated artichoke halves, drained and chopped (see Patricia Wells recipe, at top)
1/2 cup pitted green olives, chopped
1/4 cup pine nuts
3 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons small capers, rinsed and drained
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper
3 tablespoons shredded basil
Six 7-ounce skinless mahi-mahi fillets

What to do:

In a large, deep skillet, heat the olive oil until shimmering. Add the celery, onion and garlic and cook over moderate heat until just softened, 4 minutes. Add the tomato sauce, wine, vinegar, artichokes, olives, pine nuts, sugar and capers and season with salt and pepper. Simmer about 8 minutes. Stir in the basil and let caponata cool.

Rub the fish with olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Grill over moderately high heat, turning once, until cooked through, about 9 minutes. Transfer the fish to plates, top with the caponata and serve. Optional accompaniment: grilled bread.

—Adapted from Michael White, chef of Marea, New York

Artichoke, Dandelion and Pecorino Salad with Mandarin Dressing

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David Prince for The Wall Street Journal, Food Styling by Brett Kurzweil, Prop Styling by Robyn Glaser

Artichoke, Dandelion and Pecorino Salad with Mandarin Dressing

Sweet artichokes, bitter dandelion leaves and juicy oranges make a salad that's bright as spring.  Serves 6

Juice from 1 lemon
Sea salt
6 medium artichoke hearts, quartered
1 bunch young red veined dandelion (or arugula)
5 mandarin oranges
6 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
Freshly ground pepper
4 ounces pecorino cheese

What to do:

Bring 3 of cups water, the lemon juice and 1 tablespoon sea salt to a boil. Add the artichokes and simmer for 6 to 8 minutes, or until a knife poked into the thickest part doesn't meet much resistance. Drain and set aside to cool to room temperature.

Separate the leaves and, if using dandelions, discard any with jagged edges. Wash, dry and set aside.

Squeeze the juice from 2 of the oranges (about 5 tablespoons) and put half of it in a small saucepan. Bring to a boil, lower the heat and simmer to reduce by one half. Cool, and combine with remaining juice.

Peel and cut the remaining 3 oranges into segments. Add a pinch of salt to the juice and, using a whisk or a stick blender, very slowly beat in the oil. Taste and season with black pepper and lemon juice.

Toss the artichokes and oranges with a little vinaigrette; divide among 6 plates and top with dandelion leaves. Using a vegetable peeler, scrape slices of pecorino over the greens. Finish the plates by spooning the remaining vinaigrette over and around the salads.

—Adapted from David Kinch, chef of Manresa, Los Gatos, Calif.

Baby Artichokes, Asparagus and Potatoes with Herb Mayonnaise

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David Prince for The Wall Street Journal, Food Styling by Brett Kurzweil, Prop Styling by Robyn Glaser

Baby Artichokes, Asparagus and Potatoes with Herb Mayonnaise

Three early spring vegetables and a mayonnaise you'll want to always have on hand. Serves 6

For the mayonnaise:

2 large super-fresh organic egg yolks, room temperature
1 cup canola oil
Lemon juice
Salt and freshly ground pepper
1 tablespoon minced parsley
1 tablespoon minced chives
2 teaspoons minced tarragon
1/2 teaspoon minced thyme (optional)

For the vegetables:

12 to 18 baby Yukon gold or baby red potatoes, scrubbed and halved
Olive oil
Kosher salt
2 sprigs thyme
3 cloves garlic, unpeeled, smashed
30 thick asparagus spears, tough ends removed
Freshly ground pepper
18 baby artichokes
1/2 lemon

What to do:

To make the mayonnaise: Whisk the eggs in a medium bowl. Drop by drop, slowly whisk in 1/4 cup oil. When the mixture comes together, you can whisk in the remaining oil in a slow, steady stream. Add lemon juice and salt and pepper to taste. Stir in the herbs and refrigerate for at least 1 hour (or for up to 24 hours).

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Line a baking pan with a silicone baking mat or parchment paper.

Rub the potatoes with oil, season with salt and arrange on the pan cut side down; scatter the thyme and garlic on top. Roast until the potatoes can be pierced with a knife, 20 to 25 minutes.

Once the potatoes are in the oven, rub the asparagus spears with oil, season with salt and pepper and add them to the pan. Roast until the asparagus are slightly charred and just tender, about 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, remove the outer leaves of the artichokes to reveal the pale yellow-green ones, cut off the tips and stems and halve lengthwise. Remove any choke and rub with lemon. Coat the artichokes with oil and divide them among 6 skewers.

Put a grill pan over moderate heat and cook the artichokes, turning them as they brown and brushing them with more oil to keep them from sticking, until they can be pierced with a knife, 15 to 20 minutes. It's nice if they char a bit.

Serve the artichokes, still on their skewers, with the potatoes, asparagus and mayonnaise.

—Adapted from Chris Israel, chef of Gruner, Portland, Ore.

How To: Trim a Large Artichoke To Boil and Fill It

Illustrations by Bruce Hutchison

Step One

Break off the toughest outer leaves, usually those on the bottom three rows.

Step Two

Using a serrated knife, cut the stem flush with the base and cut off about 1½ inches from the top.

Step Three

With scissors, snip off the tops of the leaves with prickly spines.

Step Four

When the artichoke is cooked, run it under cold water so that it opens like a flower, and pull out the center leaves to expose the choke.

Step Five

Scrape the choke away with a grapefruit spoon or small knife.

Printed in The Wall Street Journal, page D1

Copyright 2011 Dow Jones & Company, Inc. All Rights Reserved

ST: Scarce kimchi turns to 'geum-chi'

Asia

Home > Asia > Asia > Story

Oct 7, 2010

Scarce kimchi turns to 'geum-chi'

Beloved Korean dish as valued as geum or gold, as bad weather sends cabbage prices soaring

People queueing to buy Napa cabbages, subsidised by the Seoul city hall, at the Tongin market yesterday. The price of the cabbage, a key ingredient of kimchi, has skyrocketed after inclement weather caused crops to fail. -- PHOTO: REUTERS

 

SEOUL: It is autumn and the season for kimchi making in South Korea.

But two months of unusually heavy rain have decimated the country's cabbage crop and sent the price of Napa cabbages, a key ingredient of the dish, soaring.

The price of cabbages in markets and grocery stores hit a record high of 10,000 won (S$11) per head this week, up almost five-fold from last year's 1,600 won and three times that of last month's 3,000 won.

Prices of other essential ingredients of the spicy fermented cabbage dish, including radish and garlic, have also doubled over the past year.

South Koreans have taken to jokingly calling the side dish 'geum-chi'. Geum is Korean for gold.

Kimchi-makers have already increased the prices of their products, and supermarket shelves have been emptied of ready-made kimchi packs. Kimchi home delivery companies have also suspended services.

Some restaurants have started charging for kimchi, which used to be provided free as a side dish, while others simply stopped offering it.

'I am not sure if I should start to charge for kimchi or exclude it from the side dishes. I have never experienced such shortage (of cabbage) in my 10 years as a chef running this restaurant,' a owner of a Korean restaurant in Gwacheon told the Korea Herald newspaper.

When President Lee Myung Bak announced he would eat only kimchi made from what he said was cheaper round cabbage common in Europe and North America, many people erupted in anger.

The round cabbage, Internet users pointed out, was only slightly cheaper here than the Chinese variety, suggesting the President's claim was out of touch with the needs and concerns of the masses, reported the Los Angeles Times.

To ease the cabbage shortage, the government has cut tariffs on Chinese-imported cabbages and other produce this week. But not everyone welcomes the government's action to import key kimchi ingredients from China.

A housewife, who gave only her last name Ahn, said: 'I guess cabbages are grown in different soil in China. I am not sure if those cabbages would suit our body.'

She said she is still eating kimchi made last December, reported the Korea Times.

From Tuesday until Oct 20, the Seoul city government is providing the 16 traditional markets in the capital with 300,000 heads of Napa cabbage at just 70 per cent of the market price - enough to feed 10,000 households.

'I lined up five hours before the sale began because I was concerned that I would not get cabbages,' homemaker Shin Jeom Soon told JoongAng Ilbo. The 64-year-old was first in the line outside the Shinwon market in the Gwanak district on Tuesday. The cabbage supplies were sold out within two hours.

This year, a freakish combination of cold temperatures in the spring, an extreme heat wave in the summer and torrential rain last month caused crops to fail and produced a surge in food prices that pushed the country's inflation rate to a 17-month high last month.

Napa cabbage harvests dropped 40 per cent to 153,000 tonnes in the nine months through September, compared with 256,000 tonnes in the same period last year, due to 'abnormal climate changes', the Ministry for Food, Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries said.

South Koreans consume an estimated 1.47 million tonnes of kimchi a year, said Mr Lee Jeong Sik, an official at the agriculture and forestry ministry. Of that, 457,000 tonnes are made at factories and the rest at homes or in restaurants, reported the Associated Press.

Many South Korean homes have special kimchi refrigerators that regulate temperatures to maintain the preferred level of fermentation.

The shortages could not have come at a worse time as the 'kimjang' season is approaching - the annual rite in late October or early November when Korean families gather and make kimchi together before winter sets in.

Housewife An Ok Ju, 55, has decided to skip kimjang this year.

'I have always preferred homemade kimchi over the ones sold in the market, but the price (of cabbage and radish) is just ridiculous this year. I think a lot of housewives will just wait until the shortage eases a little,' she told the Korea Herald.

Madam Kim Hyung Sook has been getting endless requests for kimchi from her grandchildren and husband.

'I don't know how long I can keep ignoring my grandkids and my husband's demands for kimchi at every meal,' she said.

'You are not Korean if you don't eat kimchi three times a day.'

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Pricier ingredients

Napa cabbage: 10,000 won (S$11) per head, up more than 500 per cent from the same time last year.

Radish: 4,150 won per radish, up 251 per cent.

Garlic: 13,100 won per kg, up 105 per cent.

Green lettuce: 4,200 won per bag, up more than 200 per cent.

Spring onion: 3,000 won per bundle, up more than 200 per cent.

ST: So bad it's good

Lifestyle

Home > Lifestyle > Taste > Story

Oct 3, 2010

So bad it's good

When a craving strikes, even unhealthy fare like luncheon meat never fails to satisfy

By Tan Hsueh Yun, Hunger Management

Pair the humble luncheon meat with the stirfried egg and bittergourd, put in between burger buns and you get the delicious Chanpuru Burger. -- ST PHOTOS: BENJAMIN NG

 

Call me perverse but sometimes, in the middle of a healthy, refined and elegant meal, I start to think bad thoughts.

I could be eating sushi or maybe grilled fish and salad and visions of fried chicken or thick cut fries or roast pork would suddenly pop into my head.

Recently, in the middle of a very lovely kaiseki meal, I said to the friend I was dining with: 'Sometimes, when I eat this sort of food...'

'You want something unhealthy?'

See? I am not the only one. We went for Korean fried chicken afterwards.

Oh dear. And there's more.

One night while relaxing over drinks after work, my friends and I became very enchanted by the Spam Fries that Wild Oats, a bar at Mount Emily, serves. The batons of luncheon meat are fried till crisp. We dunked them into kaffir-lime flavoured mayonnaise, unable to stop ourselves.

And to think, we were planning to have just one drink each - no food, no nibbles - before heading home.

Since then, visions of luncheon meat have been popping into my head at all times of the day and night. I should shoot myself. What self-respecting food writer thinks about processed meat? Shouldn't I be yearning instead for grass-fed beef or pork from pigs that are fed an organic diet? But the belly wants what it wants.

I don't eat luncheon meat often but when I was growing up, my mother would sometimes fry slices of it for lunch, or make an omelette with it. Our family favours the Ma Ling brand and I like the firm, slightly chunky texture of it.

My favourite way to eat it is panfried and in a sandwich with slices of cucumber. Yes cucumber. Who am I kidding, right? But the crisp, green rounds, greasy meat and soft white bread (the kind I will never own up to eating) come together so deliciously.

Since it is useless to fight food cravings, I decided to give in to mine and make something that is both healthy and unhealthy: a Chanpuru Burger.

The idea comes from Okinawa, Japan. People there are said to live long because of a healthy diet that includes lots of vegetables, tofu, seaweed and fish. Chanpuru is a popular dish, a stirfry made with goya or bittergourd, and egg. Other ingredients might include pork, chicken and tofu.

Paradoxically, the Spam brand of luncheon meat is also popular in the cluster of islands in Southern Japan. It was introduced by the American troops stationed there. The Japanese add it to chanpuru and make onigiri or rice balls with it.

A fast food chain, Jef, came up with the brilliant idea of combining chanpuru and Spam in a burger, and I set out to copy it.

The important thing is to get the luncheon meat good and crispy. A round 400g tin will yield four good-sized patties, but if you want to be really, really bad, just slice it into three. Simply let the meat brown in a non-stick pan over medium heat.

Knobbly Japanese bittergourd is what the Okinawans use in chanpuru but sometimes, even Japanese supermarkets here don't stock it. I just use the local variety available in wet markets and most supermarkets.

If you wanted to, you could get an artisanal burger bun, but the soft squishy kind works best here. Slather it with what TV cook Paula Deen would call a 'gracious dollop' of mayonnaise spiked with ichimi togarashi, Japanese red pepper flakes.

The resulting burger is simply delicious - virtue and vice in every bite.

For those who cannot contemplate eating something like that, I've included a recipe for a straight-up chanpuru.

There is a catch of course. It has sliced pork belly in it.

hsueh@sph.com.sg

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MAKE IT YOURSELF: CHANPURU BURGER

INGREDIENTS

1 400g tin luncheon meat

1 small bittergourd, about 250g

2 Tbs sesame oil

1/2 tsp salt

1 Tbs sake

3 eggs, lightly beaten

1 Tbs Japanese rice vinegar (optional)

4 Tbs Japanese mayonnaise

1/2 tsp ichimi togarashi (above) or to taste

4 hamburger buns

METHOD

1. Remove luncheon meat from the tin, slice into four equally thick rounds. Place in a large non-stick fry pan over medium heat. Cook until well browned, flip over and brown the other side. Place on a plate lined with paper towels, set aside.

2. Wash the bittergourd under running water, dry with paper towels. Trim both ends, cut the gourd in half lengthwise. Use a spoon to scoop out the seeds and spongy core. Slice each piece in half lengthwise, then cut into thin slices crosswise.

3. Warm the sesame oil in a wok or medium fry pan over medium heat. Add the bittergourd, stir fry 2 minutes. Add salt and sake, stir fry another 2 minutes.

4. Add the beaten eggs, mix well with the bittergourd. Just as the eggs are about to set, add the rice vinegar (if using), give the mixture one last stir and turn off the heat.

5. In a small bowl, mix the mayonnaise with ichimi togarashi. Slice the hamburger buns in half and spread each half with the mayonnaise mixture. Place one slice of luncheon meat on each bottom half of the bun. Divide the bittergourd mixture into four equal portions and spoon onto the patties. Cap each burger with the top half of the bun. Eat immediately.

Serves four.

VARIATION: CHANPURU

INGREDIENTS

1 medium bittergourd, about 400g

100g thinly sliced pork belly

1 square firm tofu (tau kwa)

3 Tbs sesame oil

1 tsp salt or to taste

3 Tbs sake

4 eggs, lightly beaten

2 Tbs rice vinegar

METHOD

1. Wash the bittergourd under running water, dry with paper towels. Trim off both ends, cut the gourd in half lengthwise. Use a spoon to scoop out the seeds and spongy core. Slice each piece in half lengthwise, then cut into thin slices crosswise.

2. Cut the slices of pork belly crosswise into 2cm pieces.

3. Halve the square of tofu and slice crosswise into 0.5cm pieces.

4. Heat the sesame oil over a large fry pan over medium heat. Add the pork, separate the pieces with a spatula or a pair of chopsticks. Stirfry about 1 minute, add the bittergourd and stirfry 2 minutes. Add the tofu, stirfry 2 minutes. Add salt and sake, stirfry another 2 minutes.

5. Add the egg and mix it in well. Just as the egg is about to set, add the rice vinegar, give the mixture one last stir and turn off the heat. Check for seasonings and add more salt if needed. Serve with rice.

Serves four.

NY Times: With Vegetables Aplenty, Put Some Soup on the Stove

September 28, 2010

With Vegetables Aplenty, Put Some Soup on the Stove

By MELISSA CLARK

A MINESTRONE filled with the best of the Greenmarket seemed like just the thing to have at Maialino before my deep-fried pig’s foot.

Given the lightness of the broth, I expected a mild flavor, and I wasn’t prepared for the punch of the ripe tomato, Parmesan and basil. Fragrant olive oil added richness while creamy, fresh cannellini beans gave it body. I spooned it all up and took most of the pig’s foot home.

Before the last of the tomatoes vanished from the farmers’ market, I knew I’d want to make the dish at home. I called Nick Anderer, the chef, and begged for the recipe.

This being fancy restaurant food, I was mentally poised for a complicated procedure.

And I was right. Mr. Anderer described a multistep process that involved making a fortified vegetable stock with a chunk of cheesecloth-wrapped Parmesan rind. When the broth finishes simmering, Mr. Anderer squeezes the soggy rind to extract the maximum umami factor. Then he sautés vegetables in stages to make the soup.

“So, how do I do that in one step,” I asked, “without having to track down a piece of Parmesan rind?”

Buy good broth, he advised, and stir in grated Parmesan just before serving.

This I could do.

In terms of which vegetables to add to the pot, Mr. Anderer uttered words dear to a home cook’s heart:

“Use whatever you’ve got. We were using peas and asparagus in the spring, tomatoes and zucchini and all kinds of fresh beans — cranberry, cannellini, bartolotti — in the summer. In the winter we use dried beans. You can let your mind go crazy.”

In other words, it was a fridge-cleaning soup.

When I made my version only a few days later, I emptied the vegetable bin, dicing up a runty summer squash, a handful of green beans, a carrot. To this I added the softest tomatoes from my stash, shell beans from the farmers’ market and chicken broth (vegetable broth works, too).

My one extra step was to make a pistou to stir in before serving. Recipes for pistou, the French version of pesto, often use a little tomato in place of some of the oil.

My soup was a completely different beast from Mr. Anderer’s — less elegant, but pleasingly rustic. I thought about serving it with the leftover pig’s foot, but after finishing my bowl, I was completely satisfied. The pig’s foot would just have to wait.

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Minestrone with Shell Beans and Almond Pistou

Time: about 1 hour

 

 

For the soup

3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1 sprig rosemary

3 bushy sprigs thyme

4 parsley sprigs

2 leeks, white and light green parts only, chopped

2 garlic cloves, minced

1 medium zucchini or yellow squash (or half of each for color), diced

1 carrot, diced

1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt

1/2 teaspoon black pepper

2 cups vegetable or chicken broth

1 pound fresh shell beans like cranberry or cannelloni, shelled (about 1 1/2 cups)

4 plum tomatoes (about 3/4 pound), diced

1/2 cup thinly sliced green beans

FOR THE PISTOU

4 cups fresh basil, packed

1/3 cup slivered almonds

1/4 cup chopped plum tomato

2/3 cup grated Parmesan

2 large garlic cloves, roughly chopped

1 teaspoon kosher salt

1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil.

 

1. In a large pot over medium-low heat, heat the oil. Tie rosemary, thyme and parsley in a bundle with kitchen string if desired (this makes it easier to fish out later). Add the herbs, leeks, garlic, zucchini or yellow squash, carrot, salt and pepper to the pot and sauté until the vegetables are golden, 10 to 15 minutes.

2. Add broth, shell beans, tomatoes, green beans and 4 cups water to the pot. Simmer partly covered until the beans are tender, 30 to 45 minutes. Discard herbs. Thin with a little water if the soup is too thick.

3. Prepare the pistou: Pulse the basil, almonds, tomato, Parmesan, garlic and salt in a food processor until basil is chopped and all the ingredients are combined. Drizzle in olive oil while the motor runs and continue processing until a paste forms. Serve the soup with dollops of the pistou, letting people add more as needed.

Yield: 4 to 6 servings.

FT: A main attraction for vegetarians

A main attraction for vegetarians

By Rowley Leigh

Published: September 24 2010 23:18 | Last updated: September 24 2010 23:18

I am not exactly the king of the vegetarian main course. The problem is I don’t really believe in them. Vegetarians might infer a lack of respect in that remark but there is none intended. I like vegetarian food but I’m not sure I would be happy to eat the rather dubious chef’s construct that is the vegetarian main course.

A main course is a hybrid of the middle course from a grand dinner (à la Russe, when courses are served sequentially rather than simultaneously) and of any basic meal that man has sought to put a gap between himself and hunger. Whatever its status, in most households it is a chunk of protein with some vegetables beside it. It sort of follows that a hunk of vegetable with some vegetables beside it is a less enticing prospect.

A civilised meal does not need to have a main course as such. If we sit down and nibble on some salami, follow that with a lovely tomato salad with a good buffalo mozzarella and then enjoy some trenette pasta with pesto, who is to say which is the main course? Would an Italian regard aubergine parmigiana (parmigiana di melanzane) as a main course? Probably not, partly because an Italian has only a hazy idea of a main course anyway. An Italian eats an antipasto followed by a primo and then a secondo: the main course is thus split in two, with the starch component served first and the protein second. He might well eat the parmigiana instead of either or both, but it is usually served as an antipasto. Outside Italy, however, aubergine parmigiana has become extremely popular with vegetarians as, inevitably, a main course.

However, the vegetarian must take care in Italy. Were they to find themselves in Emilia-Romagna and ordered melanzane alla parmigiana, they would get a stew of aubergines, onions and Parma ham. In Puglia, parmigiana di melanzane is a dish of aubergine involtini (rolls) made with tomato sauce and baked in the oven. It’s the Calabrian version that we know best, a dish of aubergines layered like lasagne with cheese and tomato sauce and baked in the oven. It is a noble dish but don’t go calling it a main course.

Rowley Leigh is the chef at Le Café Anglais

rowley.leigh@ft.com

More columns at www.ft.com/leigh

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Aubergine parmigiana

If you can get the beautiful pale “viola” aubergines, so much the better. Prepared traditionally, the aubergines would be dusted in flour and shallow fried in olive oil but I prefer to griddle them as it tends to use less oil. I use commercial cow’s mozzarella: buffalo tends to toughen on cooking. Serves four as a main course, six as a starter.

Ingredients

1 onion

2 garlic cloves

2 sprigs of thyme

Olive oil

600g of peeled and chopped tomatoes

20g of sugar

4 large aubergines

150g of mozzarella

60g of finely grated Parmesan cheese

Method

● Peel and finely chop the onion and garlic and soften very gently with the sprigs of thyme in two tablespoons of olive oil for 15 minutes. Add the tomatoes, season with half a teaspoon of salt, the same of ground black pepper and the sugar. Mix well and stew this mixture very gently for a further 20 minutes. Leave to cool.

● Peel the aubergines. Cut them into large slices just under half a centimetre thick. Heat a wide griddle pan or dry frying pan or similar. Brush the slices liberally with olive oil and lay them in the hot pan. Season with salt and pepper and colour them well before turning and make sure they are cooked through before cooling on a tray.

● In a deep rectangular earthenware dish, proceed to build the parmigiana. Brush the base with olive oil and place a layer of aubergine slices over it. Sprinkle half the diced mozzarella and a little Parmesan on top, and then coat with tomato sauce. Avoid using so much sauce that the construction becomes sloppy: it should be just enough to moisten the whole. Add another layer of aubergines, repeat the cheese and tomato sauce treatment and then add a third layer of aubergine. Coat with a final layer of tomato sauce and then bake in a moderate oven, 160˚C, for 50 minutes. Sprinkle Parmesan over the surface and then colour under a hot grill or in a hot oven. Best served lukewarm.

Copyright The Financial Times Limited 2010.

NY Times: A Vegetable Torte Starts at the Grill

A Vegetable Torte Starts at the Grill

By MARK BITTMAN

VEGETABLE torte was not in my repertory until recently. I thought there was something a wee bit fussy about it, something a bit ’80s. But I kept encountering these non-pastry cakes and enjoying them, so it was time to make one of my own.

Getting it right takes a little time. You really must grill (or pan-grill) or roast all the vegetables well — they have to become quite tender — before assembling the torte. Ultimately, you want the vegetables to almost melt together. Grilling is the technique of choice because it gives the vegetables a hint of smokiness.

You can use whatever vegetables you have on hand. Eggplant, summer squash, bell peppers and mushrooms make a nice combination and are easy to grill, but I’ve added layers of caramelized onions, leftover cooked spinach (squeezed dry) and lightly cooked tomato. This recipe is a set of loose guidelines you can tweak at will.

The assembly is fun. Start with eggplant, which provides a nice base, then add the other vegetables in repeating layers, being sure to press down a bit with a spatula now and then to keep the torte compact. If you don’t have fresh basil, use thyme or oregano, but in any case get some fresh herbs in there. Top the torte with bread crumbs and Parmesan — not a thick, gooey layer, but enough to season the crumbs and create a crisp top. Not the fastest or easiest recipe, but worth the work.

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Layered Vegetable Torte

Time: About 2 hours, largely unattended

1 large eggplant, cut into 1/4-inch slices

4 medium zucchini or yellow squash, cut into 1/4-inch slices

2 portobello mushrooms, cut into

1/4-inch slices

1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil, or more as needed

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

2 plum tomatoes, cut into 1/4-inch slices

2 tablespoons minced garlic

1/4 cup chopped fresh basil leaves

1/4 cup freshly grated Parmesan

1/2 cup bread crumbs, preferably fresh.

1. Heat oven to 400 degrees. Put a grill pan over medium-high heat, or prepare a grill; the heat should be medium-high, and the rack about 4 inches from flame. Brush eggplant, zucchini and mushrooms lightly with half the oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper; if roasting, grease 2 baking sheets with oil. Roast or grill vegetables on both sides until soft.

2. Coat bottom and sides of 8-inch springform pan with oil. Layer a third of the eggplant slices into bottom of the pan, then layer in half the zucchini, mushrooms, tomato, garlic and basil, sprinkling each layer with a bit of salt and pepper. Repeat layers until all vegetable are used. Press the top with a spatula or spoon to make the torte as compact as possible. Sprinkle top with Parmesan and bread crumbs, and drizzle with about 1 tablespoon oil.

3. Bake torte in oven until hot throughout and browned on top, about 30 minutes. Let sit for 5 minutes before removing outer ring of pan, then let cool for another 10 minutes before cutting into wedges.

Yield: 4 to 6 servings

ST: Fried to a perfect crisp - Vodka Tempura

Lifestyle

Home > Lifestyle > Taste > Story

May 16, 2010

Fried to a perfect crisp

To get that satisfying mix of lightness and crunch, booze up the batter with vodka

By Tan Hsueh Yun, Hunger Management

Fry up a crispy slice of heaven by adding alcohol to the batter. -- ST PHOTO: BENJAMIN NG

Anyone who has ever watched British chef Heston Blumenthal torture a chicken on television while In Search Of Perfection, or read books by American cooking science experts Harold McGee and Shirley Corriher, or eaten foam, will know that cooking is as much a science as it is an art.

Most of the time, it is the artistry that captures my imagination. The science, not so much. There is a reason why I was an arts student all through school.

But sometimes that part of cooking can be interesting, especially when a scientific trick or two can result in crispier deep-fried foods.

From the avalanche of questions on the topic that this paper gets for the fortnightly Ask The Foodie column, it would seem that Singaporeans are obsessed with making and consuming extremely crispy fried foods.

Cooks have used all sorts of tricks to get fish and chips or tempura to turn out light and crispy. Nothing is as unappetising as soggy, oil-laden deep-fried foods.

So into the batter go ice cubes, fizzy water or beer, all of which are supposed to prevent the batter from sogging out.

But nothing works as well as hardcore booze, as I found out recently when testing recipes from Home Cooking With Japan's First Lady, a book by Miyuki Hatoyama, wife of Japanese Prime Minister Yukio Hatoyama.

She had an intriguing tempura recipe with a whiskey batter that worked very well. There was no added water in it, just booze. The only problem was that the flavour of the whiskey lingered and overpowered the prawns and scallops.

I decided to tweak the recipe using vodka, since the unflavoured kind tastes pretty neutral.

Making a batter with just alcohol sounds crazy and expensive, until you taste the crispy results.

In a 2007 article in The New York Times, McGee says that the alcohol dissolves some of the gluten proteins in the flour, preventing the crust from getting tough.

And since it also boils off faster than water, the batter 'dries out, crisps and browns quickly'.

So finally, a batter worth the mess, heat and horror of deep-frying.

This batter can be used for fish and chips and for calamari rings. The taste of vodka remains but it is not as strong as the whiskey.

In this week's tempura recipe, I have opted for shishito peppers, lotus root, red capsicum and shiitake mushrooms because I like these vegetables.

But thinly sliced carrots or sweet potatoes, asparagus spears, shiso leaves, lady's fingers and baby eggplant work just as well.

As for the prawns, you can prepare them yourself but I just buy tempura-ready ones from Japanese supermarkets such as Meidi-Ya. They are already deveined and straightened, and emerge straight as arrows from the deep-fryer.

There's just one caveat.

Science is not going to keep tempura crispy forever. The humidity in Singapore shortens the crunchy lifespan of fried foods.

So while the booze will prolong the crispiness of the tempura a little, the best thing is still to eat it almost as soon as it comes out of the fryer.

That is when the tempura is at its lightest, crispiest and most delicious.

Sogginess await those who, well, wait.

hsueh@sph.com.sg

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MAKE IT YOURSELF: VODKA TEMPURA

INGREDIENTS

For the dipping sauce:

500ml water

1 piece kombu measuring about 10cm by 10cm

8g bonito flakes

50ml Japanese soya sauce

75ml mirin

200g daikon

For the tempura:

12 prawns

4 shiitake mushrooms

8 shishito peppers (above)

1 small red capsicum

1 6cm-long piece of lotus root

For the batter:

200g plain flour

2 eggs

250ml vodka

Oil for deep-frying

METHOD

1. Make the dipping sauce: Pour water into a small saucepan. Place kombu in it. Leave to soak for 15 minutes. Heat the water until small bubbles appear at the edge. Remove pot from heat.

2. Add the bonito flakes, scattering them over the surface of the water. Let it sit for five minutes. Strain into a medium-sized bowl. You should have about 450ml of dashi. Discard kombu and fish flakes. Pour dashi into a clean saucepan, add shoyu and mirin, bring to a boil. Turn off the heat and set aside.

3. Peel and grate the daikon. Squeeze out the juice with your fingers, and discard the juice. Set daikon aside.

4. Prepare the tempura ingredients: Shell and devein the prawns. Make a series of shallow cuts on the underside of the prawn, straighten them, rinse and pat dry thoroughly with paper towels. Or buy tempura-ready prawns from Japanese supermarkets such as Meidi-Ya (above).

5. Remove the stems from the mushrooms and wipe the caps clean with a paper towel. Rinse the peppers, capsicum and lotus root under running water and pat dry thoroughly with paper towels. Cut the capsicum into quarters, remove the core and seeds, then cut each piece in half. Peel the lotus root and slice cross-wise into eight pieces.

6. Make the batter: Place the flour in a medium mixing bowl, make a well in the centre and crack in the two eggs. Mix with a spoon, adding the vodka gradually until you get a very thick batter.

7. Pour enough oil to fill about one-third of a deep, medium saucepan. Place saucepan on stove over medium heat. To find out if the oil is hot enough, stick a pair of chopsticks in. If small bubbles form immediately on the sides, it is time to fry.

8. Coat the prawns and vegetables with the batter (above) and slip into the hot oil in batches. Do not crowd the pan. Fry four or five pieces at a time. The tempura is ready when the batter turns a golden brown.

9. Drain tempura on paper towels as they come out of the pan. Ladle the dipping sauce into four bowls. Divide the tempura among four serving plates. Add a mound of grated daikon to each one.

10. Serve immediately, adding daikon to the sauce before dipping the tempura in it.

Serves four

FT: Five ways to cook asparagus

Five ways to cook asparagus

By Rowley Leigh

Published: April 24 2010 01:37 | Last updated: April 24 2010 12:50

Asparagus, like potatoes and peas, should be eaten fresh. The late Michael Wickham, photographer, inventor, polymath and enthusiastic progenitor, believed in eating his so fresh that he carried his portable stove into his kitchen garden and had a pot of water boiling in readiness as he cut it. It is pleasing that the asparagus was dispatched in water and not on a grill – a more convenient al fresco cooking medium. The British asparagus season starts next week; because of the late winter it may start with a trickle rather than a flood but it will be worth getting those stoves ready and waiting.

1. Boiled

The very first asparagus should be eaten very, very simply. Do not peel but lower the spears into lots of well salted boiling water. Remove when just cooked, as the middle of the stalks become succulent and no longer fibrous. Serve with melted butter or a boiled egg: hold the asparagus by the stalk and dip the tip in the butter or egg and then in sea salt. Should be consumed with a napkin tucked into your collar.

2. Boiled (part two)

The very best, fattest white asparagus must be cooked until perfectly tender as they are bitter when undercooked. They should be served in a very fine folded (unstarched) linen napkin and accompanied by a hollandaise sauce: whisk together three egg yolks with half a glass of previously reduced white wine, the juice of half a lemon, some crushed peppercorns and some salt over a very gentle heat or water bath until the mixture is thick, white and airy. Whisk in 150g of melted butter in a thin stream and serve in a warmed sauceboat.

3. With pappardelle pasta

Pass the peeled, jumbo green asparagus through a Japanese mandolin to produce thin strips the same thickness as the pasta. Drop into a large pot of well salted water, add the pasta, drain when cooked and toss together in butter before serving with Parmesan.

4. Baked with Parma ham

Take a dozen very large spears of peeled white asparagus and boil until tender. Allow to cool and then wrap the bottom halves in thinly sliced Parma ham. Lay these tightly in an ovenproof dish and pour some double cream over them. Season well and bake in a hot oven until the cream is reduced. Sprinkle with fresh grated Parmesan and brown under a hot grill.

5. A feuilleté

Cut rectangles of puff pastry the size of a cigarette packet and the thickness of a £2 coin Brush with a beaten egg and milk and then mark out an inner rectangle with the back of a knife half a centimetre inside the outside perimeter. Bake until golden and well risen. Cut out the inner square and remove any soft uncooked pastry from the middle. Make a beurre blanc by reducing chopped shallots with white wine and peppercorns and, when almost evaporated, beating in cubes of unsalted butter. Finish with lots of chopped chives and chervil and a little tarragon. Fill the rectangles with boiled, peeled and halved asparagus spears and coat with the butter sauce.

www.britishasparagusfestival.org

More columns at www.ft.com/rowleyleigh

Copyright The Financial Times Limited 2010.

MooMooFoodie's Dinner on Christmas Eve

A feast put together by me, sis and dad :)

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Paper napkin bought in US. Cute! :)

 Portobello mushrooms before they are put into the oven. Look at the gills :P

Salad with promegranate and feta cheese

Baked potatoes - By Foodie's Dad :)

Baked eggplant with zuchinni and portobello mushrooms in oven.

Gourmet sausages... the only dish that we bought off the shelf. All we need to do is to grill it :D

Baked eggplant and zuchinni - a vegetarian dish prepared especially for mommy

Another vegetarian dish - Portobello mushrooms with mashed avocado. Yummy!

Pork ribs - By Foodie's Dad

Grilled prawns and scallops with a dressing made with lemon, chilli and olive oil.

Grilled leg of lamb - by Foodie's Dad :)

Berries with fresh whipped cream. Almond flakes added to give it some crunch.

Berries with vanilla ice-cream and sponge finger.