From the Oct., 2013 Bon Appétit

Unlike summer when my idea of the perfect breakfast is a bowl of Grape Nuts buried under a mound of fat blackberries, something about the arrival of fall puts me in the mood for a more substantial start to the day—the sort of meal that could power me through a game of touch-football if I was ever inclined to do such a thing (which, of course, I’m not). For that reason, and because Alfredo and I are still trying to steer clear of flour and grains (though I did eat some couscous last night; it arrived with my dinner and I couldn’t resist), the attached frittata recipe jumped out at me, insisting I give it a try. That in and of itself was surprising, since as a rule I’m generally not much of a frittata fan. For one thing I prefer my eggs on the wet side—a quality that by its very nature a frittata can’t deliver—and for another, the dish has always struck me as a little played-out… the sort of thing you see on a menu and then glaze over. But this version had a few things going for it that got me excited, namely chorizo sausage, broccoli rabe, and grated cheddar cheese (which I swapped out for Manchego; more on that later).

Really it was the broccoli rabe that grabbed me initially, since I’ve been having a love affair with this leafy green for the past few months. I’m not sure why it took so long for me to warm to its charms, but now that I have I can’t get enough of its slightly bitter flavor, or with the way it lends itself to so many of the things I love—namely garlic, olive oil, and, of course, sausage. In fact, one of my favorite weeknight dinners of late has been sautéed broccoli rabe with chunks of hot Italian sausage, an idea that came to me as I was picking through a friend’s unfinished dish of Cavatelli Pugliese and discovered it wasn’t the pasta that interested me so much as the bits of sausage and strands of tender broccoli rabe that are the noodles’ co-stars. So here was a breakfast dish that combined those same two enticing ingredients, but wrapped them in an airy egg mixture, not to mention a glaze of salty cheese. In other words, what’s not to love?

Unlike an omelet where the various add-ons are introduced to eggs that have already been cooked through, a frittata generally calls for folding your various savory ingredients into the uncooked egg mixture, then pouring the combo into your skillet and allowing the whole thing to bake together—first on the stove and then under the broiler. In the case of this recipe, however, it’s the cheese (or a portion of it, anyway) and the whole milk that’s added to the eggs, and the resulting eggy mixture that’s then introduced to the other ingredients. These include half a medium-sized onion that’s been chopped and allowed to cook over medium heat alongside a ½ lb of fresh chorizo sausage (removed from its casings) for eight minutes or so, or until the onion is tender, the meat is brown, and your tongue is hanging out of your mouth because the combination smells so good. To this you add your pile of chopped broccoli rabe—seasoned generously with salt and pepper—a sizable mound that’s likely to push your skillet to capacity and make stirring a challenge (if so, introduce the greens in increments, adding the remainder as it cooks down).

Once the greens are tender (including the thick, stalky bits)—a state that will also mean the entire combination is now sitting comfortably in your pan—it’s time to reduce the heat to low and add the eggs, pouring the mixture evenly across the surface of the sautéed sausage and broccoli rabe. At this point you can pretty much step back and read the Sunday papers for a while, since the secret to a frittata is slow cooking. Here that means a relatively long 10 to 12 minutes, a period during which the contents of the pan will require nothing more from you than the occasional shake to discourage sticking. Once the edges are just set, sprinkle the surface with the remaining cheese and slide your pan under the broiler for four minutes or so, until the top of the frittata is golden brown and the center is set. Remove from the oven, slice, and serve—either warm or at room temperature. Which brings me to one of the distinct advantages of a frittata over other breakfast egg dishes: because of its baked, quiche-like quality, it doesn’t have to be eaten right out of the oven, but can be enjoyed hours, even a day, later. (Anyone for leftovers?).

And regarding my switch from cheddar to Manchego, I made the substitution for the simple reason that I’m leaning towards sheep’s- over cow’s-milk cheeses these days—and also because I love the nutty, salty flavor of Manchego (which I just happened to have a quantity of in the fridge). Cheddar will probably melt a little better, and no doubt it will imbue the finished dish with a sunnier, more lustrous appearance, but I liked the subtle, salty kick offered by the Manchego. Either way, the net result is a healthy, homey breakfast that can feed a crowd… or in my case, two over-eaters.

Ingredients:
—12 large eggs
—1/2 cup whole milk
—3/4 cup grated cheddar, divided
—Kosher salt and coarsely ground black pepper
—2 tbs vegetable oil
—1/2 medium onion, chopped
—1/2 lb. fresh Spanish chorizo or hot Italian sausage link, casings removed
—1 bunch broccoli rabe, coarsely chopped

Directions:
—Preheat broiler. Whisk eggs and milk in a medium bowl. Mix in ½ cup cheddar; season with salt and pepper and set aside.
—Heat oil in a large skillet, preferably cast-iron, over medium heat. Add onion and chorizo and cook, stirring occasionally, until onion is softened and chorizo is brown, 6 to 8 minutes.
—Add broccoli rabe; season with salt and pepper and cook, stirring occasionally, until tender, 8 to 10 minutes longer.
—Reduce heat to low and pour reserved egg mixture over vegetables. Cook, shaking pan occasionally, until edges are just set, 10 to 12 minutes.
—Top frittata with remaining ¼ cup cheddar; broil until top is golden brown and center is set, about 4 minutes longer.
—Cut frittata into wedges and serve warm or at room temperature.
—Note: Frittata can be made 2 hours ahead. Let cool, then cover.

The post 10/02/13 • SAUSAGE FRITTATA appeared first on THE RECIPE GRINDER.

From the May, 2013 Bon Appétit

When I was a kid one of the few things my dad cooked was pancakes, an event that tended to happen on Sunday mornings, but infrequently enough that it was still cause for excitement. As with a lot of men of his generation, making pancakes (along with barbecuing) was one of the few cooking tasks that fell within his domain, which makes me wonder what there’s something about using a spatula that makes it more masculine than other kitchen tasks. Be that as it may, and though those pancakes probably came out of a box mix and were drowned in low-grade supermarket syrup, they’ve become a kind of benchmark for me—both of this weekend breakfast staple in particular, and of fatherhood in general. It’s little wonder then that as Alfredo and I explore the possibility of fatherhood I would suddenly find myself with pancakes on the brain (see posting of April 16th). I have no other explanation as the dish is one I only occasionally have a taste for, and even then try to talk myself out of—for the simple reason that I know how crummy I’ll feel once I’m done (white flour is definitely not my friend).

This time was different, however, both for the fatherhood thing mentioned above (I’ll share more on this once I have something concrete to report) and because of the recipe presented below. Unlike most versions I’ve tried (and the box mix I grew up eating) there is no white flour involved here, which means the finished product is both nuttier in flavor and more rustic in texture than the pancake standard. Perhaps that’s why Blackberry Farm in Walland, TN (who shared the recipe with Bon Appétit for their May issue) calls them “griddle cakes”—a phrase that for me tends to conjure images of cowboys cooking over an open flame. While I’m sure the campfire approach would yield terrific results, the only requirement where these pancakes/griddle cakes are concerned is locating items such as gluten-free oat flour, buckwheat flour, and brown rice flour, all of which can be found at natural foods store, some supermarkets (I found everything at my neighborhood Whole Foods), or here.

Of course, in addition to the flavor and textural qualities mentioned above, these ingredients also qualify as gluten-free, which for some may be an added incentive to give them a try. Personally, I do not adhere to a gluten-free regime (though based on how I feel after eating white flour maybe I should) but I can report that after eating a very large stack of these I did not feel as though I needed to take a nap—a sensation I tend to encounter after pancake consumption. Perhaps more importantly, however, it was that nutty quality I mentioned that kept me coming back for another mouthful, and another. This is worth underscoring since with the standard variety its the butter and syrup that tends to be the pull once pancake fatigue sets in (which for me usually occurs midway through the short stack I’ve ordered). In other words, while these are just as homey as any pancake you’d encounter at a coffee shop, by virtue of their more rustic ingredients I also found them to be lighter with a more interesting flavor.

And, like all pancakes, they’re fun to cook. That said, make sure your pan is good and hot before brushing it with oil and pouring in the batter, as the pancakes require a super hot skillet to set up sufficiently. Follow this instruction and the cooking times offered by the recipe (3 minutes on the first side, 2 minutes on the second) will do the trick, though if you prefer a visual cue, as a rule the pancakes can be flipped when the edges take on a brownish tinge and the surface looks lumpy and a little dry. Though not stipulated by the cooking instructions, I also found it best to brush the pan with oil (again, lightly) between each batch, just to ensure the pancakes don’t stick when it comes time to flip them. Additionally, the cooked pancakes can be held in a warm oven until all the batter has made its way into the pan.

Although BA indicates that the recipe serves 6, unless the pancakes are accompanied by rashers of bacon and large helpings of scrambled eggs, I’d argue that 4 servings is probably more like it. The pancakes aren’t particularly big (use a ¼ cup batter for each as indicated and you end up with a pancake about 3 inches in diameter), nor does the recipe produce all that many (I counted just 27), so if you’re feeding a crowd or a number of big eaters you may want to serve a few other items as well, or double the recipe. After all, while making you sleepy should not be part of the pancake-eating experience, nor should leaving the table hungry.

Ingredients:
—1 large egg
—2 cups buttermilk
—1/4 cup pure maple syrup
—1 cup gluten-free oat flour
—2/3 cup yellow cornmeal
—1/3 cup brown rice flour
—1/4 cup buckwheat flour
—1 tbs baking powder
—1 tsp baking soda
—1 tsp kosher salt
—1/4 cup (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, melted
—Vegetable oil (for skillet)

Note: Gluten-free oat flour, buckwheat flour, and brown rice flour can be found at natural foods and specialty foods stores and at some supermarkets.

Directions:
—Whisk egg, buttermilk, and maple syrup in a small bowl.
—Whisk oat flour, cornmeal, rice flour, buckwheat flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a large bowl.
—Whisk buttermilk mixture into dry ingredients, then whisk in melted butter until no lumps remain.
—Heat a large nonstick or cast-iron skillet over medium heat; lightly brush with oil. Working in batches, pour batter by 1/4-cupfuls into skillet. Cook until bottoms are browned and bubbles form on top of griddle cakes, about 3 minutes. Flip and cook until griddle cakes are cooked through, about 2 minutes longer. (TRG note: Lightly brush skillet with oil between batches; cooked cakes can be kept warm in a low oven while you proceed with the rest of the batter; you’ll know the cakes are ready to flip when then edges look lightly browned, and top of the cake looks lumpy).

Note: You can fast-track this recipe by tripling the dry ingredients and storing them in a jar. When ready to serve, scoop out 2¼ cups. All the other ingredients stay the same.

Makes 27 cakes; serves 4 to 6

The post 05/07/13 • GLUTEN-FREE GRIDDLE CAKES appeared first on THE RECIPE GRINDER.

From the April/May, 2013 Fine Cooking

Ninety-nine postings ago—back when I first started this blog to be precise—I’d often define my vision for the site by jokingly telling friends the one thing it would never include: a scone recipe. (I know; hilarious.) At the time I genuinely felt like scones were overplayed in the U.S. (I still do, actually), which wouldn’t have mattered much except for the fact that I never found them to be particularly pleasant or satisfying either. Maybe I was missing the good butter or clotted cream that traditionally shows up beside them at tea-time in England, or maybe the various examples I’d sampled in recent years were simply poor American imitations of the Scottish standard, but scones always struck me as, well, kind of dry and heavy. In other words, there was a reason they rhymed with stone. All of which makes it a little surprising that in flipping through the April/May issue of Fine Cooking it would be a scone recipe I’d zero in on—and not just zero in on, but keep circling, and returning to. Almost immediately it was a recipe I wanted to try. But I also knew I couldn’t… because I’d already said I never would! And then finally I gave in and decided to eat my words. I’m glad I did.

What I realized as I studied the recipe and the accompanying photos (and by the way, it was definitely not the photos that enticed me; I may be a fan of the occasional recipe in Fine Cooking, but their pictures rarely inspire me to take action) was that I hadn’t always felt this way about scones. In fact, many years ago, while visiting Edinburgh, I had one of those food/travel experiences that stay with you forever and change the way you feel about a particular item—in this case, establishing a scone standard that no subsequent experience ever equaled. And so I kept the memory intact by staying away from the disappointing examples that are now a staple of virtually every American coffee bar (a concept that didn’t even exist when I had my big scone moment in Scotland—which should give you an idea of how long ago it was).

But as I read through the recipe and the brief piece of writing that ran alongside it, I was reminded that dry and heavy are not necessarily qualities that need to be associated with scones. (Certainly, they hadn’t been part of my Edinburgh experience.) In fact, one of the things that jumped out at me about this recipe was the writer’s strategy (or strategies; there are several) for ensuring a light, flaky, buttery result—the intersection between cake and piecrust, as she puts it.)

The first and most critical of these has to do with the heavy cream that’s a standard ingredient in most scone recipes. Here, that cream is whipped into soft peaks prior to being folded into a mixture of the dry ingredients and the butter, a trick that ensures the finished product will be flaky and soft. What’s more, by chilling the mixing bowl and the beaters for 15 minutes or so prior to mixing, the cream is able to stay chilled during whipping, thereby allowing the maximum amount of air to be trapped.

Those two steps alone are probably enough to ensure a better scone than most you’ll find at your local coffee bar, but the tips don’t end there. Of these additional suggestions, some may seem self-evident to anyone who has done some baking (don’t overwork the dough when kneading; use a sharp knife when slicing the uncooked dough), though others were ones that would never have occurred to me. To this last group I include suggestions like using a mixture of honey and sugar (needed to achieve the proper balance between lightness and color—the sugar being lighter than the honey, the honey delivering the all-important golden hue to the cooked dough), and wrapping the just-out-of-the-oven scones in a clean tea towel to trap the steam (which makes them that much more tender). In total, all of these suggestions combine to produce something that is remarkably soft and flaky—still with that signature buttery, floury flavor, but with none of that stick-in-the-back-of-your throat quality that’s so often a part of the scone-eating experience.

Add a handful of currants as I did here (instructions for this and a few other flavor variations are included below) and I’m willing to bet that whatever your present feelings may be about scones, they’ll grow that much stronger after giving these a try. For myself, all I can say is I’m through with sweeping food pronouncements.

Ingredients:
—1 cup plus 2 tsp chilled heavy cream
—2 1/3 cups unbleached all-purpose flour; more as needed
—3 tbs granulated sugar
—1 tbs baking powder (preferably aluminum-free)
—3/8 tsp fine sea salt or table salt
—10 tbs chilled unsalted butter, cut into ½-inch cubes
—1 tbs plus 1 tsp honey
—1 tbs turbinao sugar (such as Sugar in the Raw) or granulated sugar
—Butter, clotted cream, and jam (optional, for serving)

Note: See “variations” below, for optional flavoring ingredients.

Directions:
—Chill a medium metal mixing bowl and the beaters of an electric hand mixer (or the bowl and whisk attachment of a stand mixer) in the refrigerator for at least 15 minutes. (Note: beating the cream in a chilled bowl with chilled mixers help to keep the cream cold so it can trap the maximum amount of air as it’s whipped.)
—Position a rack in the lower third of the oven and heat the oven to 400˚. Line a large rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper.
—Beat 1 cup of the cream in the chilled bowl on medium-high speed just until soft peaks form, 1½ to 2½ minutes; refrigerate while you mix the other ingredients.
—In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, granulated sugar, baking powder, and salt. Add the butter and toss with your fingers to coat. Press the butter between your fingers to form very thin flakes, tossing them back in the flour mixture between passes until all of the butter is pressed into dime-size flakes.
—Make a well in the center of the mixture and add the whipped cream and honey. Use a silicone spatula to fold the ingredients together until incorporated.
—Lightly knead the dough in the bowl just until it holds together. Turn it onto a lightly floured counter. Gently knead it a few more times, then transfer it to a 9-inch cake pan lined with plastic wrap and pat it into a flat disk (or shape it by hand on a cutting board into a 9x¾-inch disk). Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 10 minutes.
—If the dough was shaped in a cake pan, invert it onto a cutting board. Remove the plastic.
—With a sharp knife (note: a dull knife will seal the edges and inhibit rising), cut the dough into 8 even wedges. Arrange the wedges 2 inches apart on the baking sheet. Brush the scones with the remaining 2 tsp cream and sprinkle with the turbinado sugar.
—Bake the scones until lightly browned on top, 15 to 20 minutes.
—Spread an unscented, lint-free linen or cotton towel on a large wire rack and put the baked scones on top. Fold the towel over loosely and allow the scones to cool until warm or at room temperature before serving. (Note: wrapping the scones traps the steam, which keeps them soft.)

Note: The scones can be stored in an air-tight container at room temperature for 2 days or frozen for 3 months. Reheat room-temperature scones in a 350˚ oven for 10 minutes. Reheat frozen scones in a 300˚ for 20 minutes. The scones are ready to serve when the outside is crunchy and a wire cake tester inserted in the center feels warm.

Variations:
To make flavored scones, mix any of the following in with the dry ingredients.
—For currant scones, add ½ cup dried currants.
—For cranberry-orange scones, add ¾ cup dried cranberries and 1 tbs finely grated orange zest.
—For lemon-poppy scones, add 1½ tbs poppy seeds and 1 tbs finely grated lemon zest.
—For ginger scones, add 1 tsp powdered ginger, 1 tsp finely grated lemon zest, and 2/3 cup candied ginger cut into 1/8- to ¼-inch pieces.

Makes 8 scones

The post 03/29/13 • CREAM SCONES appeared first on THE RECIPE GRINDER.

Adapted from the Feb., 2013 Bon Appétit

I have to confess that even with Hurricane Sandy still fresh in my memory I found much of the media coverage surrounding the approach of last weekend’s snowstorm a little hard to take seriously. Friday morning dawned with banner headlines on the local news announcing things like “the blizzard of 2013,” and continued with dire warnings that city residents should “be off the streets by 3:00 pm,” all of which sounded a little, well, dramatic. To my surprise, though, people seemed to heed the warnings—when I left the house at 7:30 am there were noticeably fewer cars on the roads than normal (and more to the point, not a single taxi, which meant a long walk in the rain for me). But clearly all those “breaking news” bulletins were warranted, because even if the snow totals in New York City were only average, had I driven out to eastern Long Island at the end of the day as planned, Alfredo and I may well have spent the weekend stuck in a snowdrift like so many other unlucky folks, as the snow there was much heavier. Instead, I went home to cook the sorts of dishes that at least provide the impression that all is safe in the world. (Over the weekend I caught a snippet of an interview with Nigella Lawson, who confessed that the first thing she does when returning from a trip is to put a chicken in the oven, since it’s only when the smell permeates her kitchen that she knows she’s home; that’s more or less what I’m talking about here.)

Like Ms. Lawson I’d put roast chicken high on that feel-good list, just as I would this recipe for rösti with fried eggs (which comes from the current issue of Bon Appétit). Now unless you’ve had some experience eating your way through Switzerland you’re probably wondering what rösti is; the answer is simple: a very large potato pancake or hash-brown patty, topped (in true Swiss style) with melted raclette or Gruyère cheese, and crowned with a fried egg (and a slice of salt-cured ham, if you’re up for it). The combination is seriously good, like that one really excellent mouthful of egg, potato, and ham you experience when the various components are cooked to perfection and you get the proportions on your fork exactly right. Of course, hash browns are one of those basic dishes that almost no one knows how to make exactly right (and by that, I mean golden and crunchy on the outside, soft but not mushy on the inside). Which is, in-and-of-itself, reason enough to try this recipe. Because even if you forgo the cheese, the ham, and the egg, you will, at least, have learned how to make THE PERFECT HASH BROWN. And that, my friends, is one skill you will be glad to have mastered.

I was anyway. The secret, as with so many dishes, comes down to a few simple steps. The first and most important is parboiling the potatoes, until the tip of a sharp knife can be inserted easily a 1/2-inch or so into the flesh—a process that takes between 8 and 10 minutes. This is key because the potatoes are ultimately to be exposed to a second cooking, so keeping them a little underdone at this stage ensures they won’t be the consistency of baby food when delivered in the form of a pancake. The next step involves chilling the potatoes in the refrigerator for a few hours once the parboiling is complete. This may seem inconvenient, even cruel if you’re hungry, but it’s vital. Why? Because it allows the potato’s flesh to retract, which makes the grating process easier and the resulting potato shavings more likely to hold their shape, both immediately off the grater as well as once they’re fully cooked.

Of course, the actual frying of the potatoes is an equally critical step—a process marked more by what you don’t do (stir, or otherwise fuss with the pancake) than what you do do, which is basically to let the potatoes cook undisturbed over medium-low heat for 20 minutes or so until the edges look crunchy and golden brown. First, though, melt a generous quantity of butter in an ovenproof skillet (nonstick ideally—just make sure it’s oven safe) then add the potatoes, along with the salt and pepper. Next, gently press the mixture with a spatula until it’s uniform and spread evenly across the base of the pan. At this point you can pretty much walk away, though a few return visits are necessary to gently shake the skillet, just to ensure that the pancake doesn’t get too comfortable and refuse to let go once it’s time to flip it.

Yes, flip it. It’s a directive that gave me a moment of anxiety—a not unreasonable reaction given the fact that no matter how perfectly browned and uniform the pancake may be at this point, screw up the flipping stage and it’s all been for nothing. That said, as outlined in the instructions, the process is manageable enough, and is achieved by simply sliding the pancake out of the frying pan and onto a large plate, then inverting the pan on top of the plate and turning over the plate/pan assemblage, so the pancake’s uncooked side is resting at the bottom of the skillet. Easy enough, though two things will help to assure your success: the first is using a nonstick pan, as previously mentioned; the second is working with something closer to a cake-plate than a dinner-plate, as the raised edge associated with the latter can interfere with the smooth transfer of potato to platter. Also, if possible try to use a plate that’s not too heavy as a smooth flipping motion will minimize the possibility of mishaps. In any case, once returned to the skillet the pancake needs a little more butter and another 15 minutes on the fire to complete the browning stage. Cut into quarters and voila you have the perfect hash brown.

To enjoy the full rösti experience, though, lay a slice of speck (see explanation below) and the sliced cheese (not grated as shown; I was experimenting and found that sliced cheese does, in fact, work better) across the surface of the pancake and slide into the 300˚ oven for between five and eight minutes, or until the cheese is nice and gooey. Remove from the oven, cut into quarters, and top with a fried egg and the parsley. Winter comfort, courtesy of Switzerland!

And one final note on fried eggs—another basic cooking skill I’ve always found challenging. The BA recipe includes standard instructions for this but as I rarely find the process to be as simple as presented I thought I’d include an alternate method (both are presented below), pulled from an earlier issue of the magazine. Here, instead of relying on the stove, the eggs are cooked (in a lightly oiled, nonstick skillet) in a 350˚ oven, an environment that seems to assure a more consistent temperature, and with it an egg that’s more reliably set where you want it to be set, and runny where you want it to be runny. Of course, if you’re following this rösti recipe and only have a single oven, you’ll need to stick with the standard technique and hope for the best. It’s a nice to trick to have in your back pocket either way.

Ingredients:
—2 to 3 russet potatoes (about 1½ lbs)
—1/2 tsp Kosher salt (plus more for boiling potatoes)
—6 tbs (3/4 stick) unsalted butter, divided
—1/4 tsp freshly ground black pepper
—4 oz raclette or Gruyère cheese, sliced (not grated as shown here!)
—Several slices of speck (optional; see note below)
—4 large eggs
—Chopped flat leaf parsley

Note: Speck is a kind of Tyrolian salt-cured ham that’s typically flavored with Juniper. It can be found at many gourmet markets, or here.

Directions:
—Place potatoes in a large saucepan, add cold water to cover, and season generously with salt. Bring to a boil; reduce heat and simmer until the tip of a paring knife slides easily about ½” into potatoes, 8 to 10 minutes. Drain potatoes and let cool. Chill until firm, about 2 hours.
—Preheat oven to 300˚. Peel potatoes. Using the large holes of a box grater, grate potatoes.
—Melt 4 tbs butter in a 12” ovenproof skillet over medium-low heat. Add potatoes. Season with salt and pepper; press gently to compact. Cook, occasionally shaking pan to loosen, until bottom is golden brown and crisp, 15 to 20 minutes.
—Slide rösti onto a plate. Carefully invert skillet over plate and flip to return rösti to pan, browned side up. Dot 1 tbs butter around edge, allowing it to melt around and under rösti. Season with salt and pepper and cook until second side is golden brown and center is tender, 10 to 15 minutes longer.
—Top rösti with speck (if using) and cheese and bake until cheese melts, 5 to 8 minutes.
—Meanwhile, melt remaining 1 tbs butter in a large nonstick skillet over medium-low heat. Crack eggs into skillet and cook until whites are just set, about 4 minutes. [See instructions for alternate cooking method, below]
—Cut rösti into quarters, top with speck (if using) and eggs, and garnish with parsley.

Serves 4

Note: As an alternate (and more reliable) method for cooking sunny-side-up eggs, try the following:
—Heat a lightly oiled nonstick skillet over medium heat. (Make sure skillet is ovenproof; not all are).
—Crack eggs into skillet so they’re evenly spaced.
—Transfer to a 350˚ oven and bake until whites are just set, about 4 minutes.
—Remove from oven, season the eggs with salt and pepper, and slide out of the pan onto a plate.

The post 02/14/13 • HASH BROWNS, FULLY LOADED appeared first on THE RECIPE GRINDER.

Adapted from the Sept./Oct., 2012 Cook’s Illustrated

I’m going to keep this posting brief since between the enormous meal you’ve likely just consumed, the multitude of leftovers now residing in your fridge, and all the cooking you’ve had to do to get here, this probably isn’t the ideal moment for diving into some long-winded evaluation of a new recipe—no matter how stellar the results. In fact, I was so convinced this was the wrong moment for any further food talk that I’d pretty much decided to take the week off, with a planned return this time next week when everyone was just a little hungrier. And then it occurred to me that for all of these reasons this was the perfect occasion to share with you this accelerated recipe for old-fashioned, steel cut oatmeal.

The recipe is one I came across in Cook’s Illustrated several months ago. It immediately caught my eye because it resolves one of the big challenges of making oatmeal—how to deliver a smooth, nutty bowl of the stuff in a fraction of the forty minutes normally required. What’s more, the recipe offers a few simple techniques for flavoring the hot cereal with a variety of ingredients (apples, carrots, cranberries, etc.) . . . all genuinely useful, instructive information. And yet initially it felt too simple for me to bring to you here. That is, until I had the inner dialogue described above and realized simple (and sensible) was precisely what was called for on a week such as this one. Plus I’m a genuine oatmeal lover, so if this recipe/strategy is one I find helpful, who’s to say others of you won’t have the same reaction?

The secret lies in simply giving the oats an overnight soak. I say “simply,” but I realize that this step will pose its own challenges, as it requires devising a breakfast game plan before you go to bed, and that can be a tall order. Still, if you’re the organized sort or are capable of imagining what you might want to eat twelve or more hours in advance, this method has your name on it. And, in truth, once you’ve cleared this mental hurdle your work is essentially done, since all that’s required of you physically is to bring three cups of water to a boil, remove it from the heat, add a cup of oats and a small amount of salt to the hot liquid, give the whole thing a stir, cover it, and you’re done until morning. In other words, all of these steps can be completed in about the same amount of time (and with the same amount of effort) it takes to brush your teeth.

The reward, however, far outdistances these minimal exertions, as introducing the oats to the boiling water and then giving the mixture an overnight soak jump starts the process by which the grain breaks down—meaning it’s that much further along in the release of its starchy content. So when you lift the lid on your pot the next morning what you will find is something that already looks much like the oatmeal you will ultimately eat; the water will have turned white and creamy, and the oats themselves will have begun to plump and soften. All that remains (at least for the standard, unadulterated variety—more on the alternatives below) is to add the remaining cup of water, bring the mixture to a boil, and simmer over medium heat for another 4 to 6 minutes, or until the mixture is chewy and thick. Let the cereal stand for five minutes or so to thicken up, and it’s ready to be spooned into bowls and crowned with whatever enhancements strike your fancy.

And for the marginally more ambitious (“marginally” because there’s barely any more work involved) you can swap out the final cup of water for a milk/juice mixture and add a small amount of fruit and other goodies to achieve something that tastes less like what Oliver Twist might have eaten, and more like those instant oatmeal packets you find at the grocery store (though exponentially better, of course). Of the three offered by CI I prefer the apple-cinnamon version (reproduced below; for the carrot spice and cranberry orange varieties, follow the link at the top of this posting), one that replaces that final cup of water with a milk and apple juice mixture, and calls for the addition of a 1/2 cup of peeled and shredded carrot, a few tablespoons of brown sugar, a small amount of cinnamon, and a sprinkling of chopped walnuts. It’s a small change that manages to completely transform the flavor of the oatmeal into something reminiscent of apple pie, while still retaining the cereal’s signature chew and nutty flavor.

Inspired by this update on the traditional formula, I decided to follow the same proportions laid out by CI but swapping out the various ingredients to devise a pumpkin spice variety. So instead of a 1/2 cup of shredded apple I used a 1/2 cup of pumpkin purée (easily sourced at the supermarket), increasing the quantities of brown sugar and cinnamon slightly, and introducing a little freshly grated nutmeg and ginger into the mix as well (exact quantities are listed below). The result was as bright and crisp as a fall day—a supremely satisfying breakfast that was packed with seasonal flavor, but that didn’t make me feel as though I’d need to dial back on all subsequent meals. What more could you want for the morning after the biggest meal of the year?

Ingredients for standard variety:
—4 cups water
—1 cup steel-cut oats (such as McCann)
—1/4 tsp salt
—Brown sugar, maple syrup, and/or dried fruit (for serving)

Ingredients for apple-cinnamon variety:
—3 cups water
—1 cup steel-cut oats (such as McCann)
—1/2 tsp salt
—1/2 cup apple cider
—1/2 cup whole milk
—1/2 cup peeled, grated sweet apple
—2 tbs packed dark brown sugar
—1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
—Coarsely chopped toasted walnuts (about 2 tbs per serving)

Ingredients for TRG’s pumpkin spice variety:
—3 cups water
—1 cup steel-cut oats (such as McCann)
—1/2 tsp salt
—1/2 cup apple juice
—1/2 cup whole milk
—1/2 cup solid-pack pumpkin purée
—3 tbs packed dark brown sugar
—1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
—1/4 tsp freshly grated nutmeg
—1/4 tsp freshly chopped ginger
—Coarsely chopped toasted pecans (about 2 tbs per serving)

Directions for standard variety:
—Bring 3 cups water to boil in a large saucepan over high heat. Remove pan from heat; stir in oats and salt. Cover pan and let stand overnight.
—Stir remaining 1 cup water into oats and bring to boil over medium-high heat.
—Reduce heat to medium and cook, stirring occasionally, until oats are softened but still retain some of their chew and mixture thickens and resembles warm pudding, 4 to six minutes.
—Remove pan from heat and let stand for 5 minutes. Stir and serve, passing desired toppings separately.

Directions for apple-cinnamon variety:
—Bring 3 cups water to boil in a large saucepan over high heat. Remove pan from heat; stir in oats and salt. Cover pan and let stand overnight.
—Stir 1/2 cup apple cider and 1/2 cup whole milk into oats and bring to boil over medium-high heat. Stir in apple, brown sugar, and cinnamon.
—Reduce heat to medium and cook, stirring occasionally, until oats are softened but still retain some of their chew and mixture thickens and resembles warm pudding, 4 to six minutes.
—Remove pan from heat and let stand for 5 minutes. Stir and serve, sprinkling each serving with 2 tbs chopped walnuts.

Directions for TRG’s pumpkin spice variety:
—Bring 3 cups water to boil in a large saucepan over high heat. Remove pan from heat; stir in oats and salt. Cover pan and let stand overnight.
—Stir 1/2 cup apple juice and 1/2 cup whole milk into oats and bring to boil over medium-high heat. Stir in pumpkin, brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger.
—Reduce heat to medium and cook, stirring occasionally, until oats are softened but still retain some of their chew and mixture thickens and resembles warm pudding, 4 to six minutes.
—Remove pan from heat and let stand for 5 minutes. Stir and serve, sprinkling each serving with 2 tbs chopped pecans.

Serves 4

The post 11/23/12 • OATMEAL, ACCELERATED appeared first on THE RECIPE GRINDER.

From America’s Test Kitchen

I should probably start by acknowledging that the above title is a little misleading, since strictly speaking the recipe I bring to you here is for a cake that can be made (and enjoyed) at pretty much any time of year, and is not just limited to those waning days of summer such as we’re experiencing now. Still, there’s something about the simple, celebratory quality of this cake that makes it particularly well-suited for these early weeks of September—an ideal send off for all those locally grown, sun ripened blueberries sitting in the fridge, and a warming welcome for the cool mornings that are just around the corner. That was my feeling, anyway, as my niece, Isabel, and I set about assembling the cake for a family dinner at my parents’ place in Maine several weeks back. It’s worth noting that at the time I had no intention of posting the recipe here, as it had already been featured on a number of blogs (most recently on Tim Mazurek’s excellent site, Lottie and Doof ), and I couldn’t imagine there would be much more to add to the conversation. I changed my mind, however, for one simple reason: this cake is too good not to share with all of you as well. And, of course, I ended up tweaking the original recipe slightly, so if nothing else you can consider this my five-cents addition to the dialogue.

But that seems to be thing about this recipe: people keep stumbling upon it, giving it a whirl, then feeling the need to spread the word (sort of like a chain letter, but with none of the foreboding if you choose to ignore it, and the simple promise of something good to eat if you don’t). The recipe was given its latest set of legs by the cooking show America’s Test Kitchen, who picked it up from their sister publication, Cook’s Country. Prior to that, one can assume at least a modicum of fame for the recipe following its selection as a Pillsbury bake-off winner—the timing of which I’m not exactly certain, but based on its original moniker of “Blueberry Boy Bait” (so-called because of its alleged success with teenage boys), I’d wager occurred sometime during the 1950s.

That awkward name stands in the version picked up by ATK, but with a few ingredient updates (namely butter instead of shortening, an extra egg, double the number of blueberries) supposedly producing a richer cake that’s both more flavorful and less soggy than the prize-winning original. I can’t speak for the success of that earlier version, but in its slightly altered state it’s a combo that consistently garners an enthusiastic response from both boys and girls, regardless of age. (At that family dinner in Maine, where we served it with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, the entire cake was devoured in minutes, with no one being the least bit shy about queuing up for seconds—though admittedly that may have more to do with my family’s appetite for dessert than it does the quality of this recipe or my baking.)

Still, one of the winningest qualities about this cake is the fact that it’s not explosively sweet—it’s coffee cake or muffin sweet, but a long way from the cloying sugary-ness of many fruit-based desserts. Together with its low-lying, compact nature (this is the kind of cake you want to hold in your hand, bypassing a plate and fork altogether), it’s a characteristic that makes for an ideal breakfast treat or simple dessert, when you’re looking for a homey, gratifying reward and don’t feel like blowing the doors off with something more high impact. Which is not to say that this is a sugar-free experience—far from it. In fact, a standout pleasure of this cake is its lace-y, caramelized topping, one that comes courtesy of that age-old duo, cinnamon and sugar. Here the pairing offers a seductive hit of sweetness, while also providing a bit of crunch that proves the perfect foil to the moist, tight crumb of the cake’s interior.

But one can’t underestimate the appeal of another of this recipe’s standout features: its ease. It’s a quality underscored by the fact that on my initial outing with this cake, Isabel and I assembled all the ingredients and had it in the oven in little more than fifteen minutes—this despite a good deal of family traffic in and out of the kitchen, not to mention a pileup of baby bottles and other items clustered on the counters. Still, it doesn’t require a lot of real estate, or focus, to take a mixer and beat a few sticks of softened butter with a quantity of sugar (both white and light brown) until it’s fluffy, then to introduce several eggs until they’ve just merged with the other ingredients. Nor is it particularly taxing to mix in a third of your dry ingredients (the flour, baking powder, and salt, previously whisked together) as you do next, followed by half of your milk, and then to repeat the sequence so that you end this phase of the cake’s assembly the same way you started it—with a third of the dry ingredients. And then there’s the addition of the 1/2 cup of blueberries—tossed with a tablespoon of flour to keep them from sinking to the bottom, and gently folded into the batter. Easy stuff.

All that remains is to spread the batter into a greased and buttered baking dish (13 by 9-inches, if you’re following the ATK recipe to the letter), scattering the remaining 1/2 cup of blueberries across the top, and sprinkling with the aforementioned cinnamon and sugar. Slip the pan into a preheated 350 degree oven for 50 minutes or so, and you’re good to go. Of course, as discussed above, I made a few small changes to the recipe, some of which you will likely already have noticed from the accompanying photos presented here. The first and most significant is that rather than baking the cake in the pan prescribed by the recipe, Isabel and I decided to go out on a limb and bake the cake in a 10-inch cast iron skillet instead. The decision was a relatively simple one, as the only pan in my parents’ kitchen approximating the requested size was already in use, but it also proved a fortuitous one as the rustic quality of the skillet proved a perfect match for the cake’s fuss-free, homespun quality. What’s more, it allows you to skip the recipe’s final step of turning the cake out onto a serving platter, as one of the pleasures of a cast iron skillet (at least for me) is the ability to serve directly from it, something I especially like to do with anything baked.

And a few other tweaks, some not entirely successful: One involved the quantity of berries called for by the recipe, a measurement Isabel and I thought could stand to be increased. Since we were working with local Maine blueberries, which are about a fourth the size (and weight) of the sort you find in most other parts of the country, our decision to increase the number used in the batter by an additional 1/4 cup was a good one (in fact, in our post-game analysis we determined we could have added even more, doubling the number from a 1/2 cup to a whole). But when I tried the same ratio at home using the standard sized berries I’d sourced at the farmer’s market, they proved too heavy for the batter and once out of the oven, ended up lining the bottom of my pan. And I ran into a similar problem when, a few weeks later, I decided to add some leftover blackberries into the mix. So unless you’re working with very small berries, it’s best to keep the measurements as listed below. Either way this simple dessert cake is a surefire crowd-pleaser, no matter what time of day—or year—you decide to make it. Don’t believe me? Just watch the line form.

Ingredients for the cake:
—2 cups all-purpose flour, plus 1 tsp
—1 tbs baking powder
—1 tsp table salt
—16 tbs unsalted butter (2 sticks), softened
—3/4 cup packed light brown sugar
—1/2 cup granulated sugar
—3 large eggs
—1 cup whole milk
—1/2 cup blueberries, fresh or frozen (see note below)

Ingredients for the topping:
—1/2 cup blueberries, fresh or frozen (see note below)
—1/4 cup granulated sugar
—1/2 tsp ground cinnamon

NOTE: If using frozen blueberries, do not let them thaw, as they will turn the batter a blue-green color.

TRG’s modified directions:
—Adjust oven rake to middle position and heat oven to 350˚. Grease and flour a 13” by 9” baking pan (or a 10” cast-iron skillet).
—Whisk 2 cups flour, baking powder, and salt together in a medium bowl. With electric mixer, beat butter and sugars on medium-high speed until fluffy, about 2 minutes. Add eggs, one at a time, beating until just incorporated. Reduce speed to medium and beat in one-third of flour mixture until incorporated; beat in half of milk. Beat in half of remaining flour mixture, then remaining milk, and finally remaining flour mixture. Toss blueberries with remaining teaspoon flour. Using rubber spatula, gently fold in blueberries. Spread batter into prepared pan.
—Scatter blueberries over top of batter. Stir sugar and cinnamon together in small bowl and sprinkle over batter. Bake until toothpick inserted in center of cake comes out clean, 45 to 50 minutes. Cool in pan 20 minutes, then turn out and place on serving platter (if using a baking pan), or serve directly out of skillet. Serve warm or at room temperature. (Cake can be stored in an airtight container at room temperature up to 3 days.)

Serves 12

The post 09/06/12 • END OF SUMMER BLUEBERRY CAKE appeared first on THE RECIPE GRINDER.

From the March, 2012 Bon Appetit (click here to view the recipe)

As you’ve probably figured out by now, it’s often the simplest recipes that call out to me the loudest. In fact, when people ask what kind of food I tend to make, I’ve taken to describing it as “salt-and-pepper” cooking—a phrase I borrowed from Christopher Hirsheimer, one-half of the Canal House team, and a duo whose cookbooks and recipes are a constant source of inspiration for me. I suppose on some level that fuss-free approach makes sense when you’re operating out of a New York City kitchen with its limited counter and storage space, but I’m also just drawn to food that features big flavors and low production values. No matter what the size of my kitchen, I’d still rather eat a baked potato with just some butter and a sprinkling of fresh pepper and sea salt than I would the kind that’s had its insides scooped out, whipped up, and piped elaborately back into its jacket.

Having said all that, this posting is neither potato-related, nor does it come from the talented pair at Canal House. What it is, though, is the sort of simple, homey recipe that I think the duo might well appreciate—just as I suspect they would the basic baked potato described above. Either way, it’s one that immediately caught my eye, and that’s been sitting on my desk for months now, flagged with a yellow sticky, (and lodged in my memory bank), patiently waiting for its moment.

Have I even mentioned that this is a ham-and cheese waffle we’re talking about?! That’s critical here, as it goes a long way to explaining both why I couldn’t stop thinking about the recipe, and why timing was so key. Because even though the item ran in the March issue of Bon Appetit and was one of a very few that month to grab me by the apron strings, I knew it wasn’t an endeavor to be rushed into. After all, by their very nature there are only so many waffles one body can handle. And since there are few things more deflating than a stack of uneaten waffles, the right moment would require numbers greater than just Alfredo and me.

That occasion finally presented itself a few Sundays back, with several houseguests in residence—all of them enthusiastic eaters. At last, the moment had arrived! So early that morning I crept down to the kitchen and began assembling the various components, whisking first the dry ingredients, then the wet ones, beating the egg whites until soft peaks formed (meaning the peaks collapse on themselves as soon as you stop beating), and finally combining the three individual mixtures (the dry ingredients with the wet, followed by the egg whites) into one light, frothy concoction. It’s a quality enhanced by two components—the soda water, which provides the batter with a hint of all-important fizz, and those egg whites, which are folded into the wet/dry mixture and ultimately leave the batter looking like something destined for a soufflé dish. That’s key, as the goal here is to get the lightest possible waffle (or how else will you manage to eat four at one sitting?).

But as I discovered it’s not just the ease of preparing the batter that’s made waffle making a favorite for dads charged with Sunday morning breakfast duty; it’s also the fun that comes with cooking them. Pouring batter onto a hot surface, closing the lid, then opening it after five minutes of hissing and sputtering to reveal something all golden and steaming and crunchy-looking, is the best possible kind of magic trick, and can bring out the kid in you no matter what your age. Perhaps that’s why mid-way through cooking my friend, Dennis, and I started talking like that doyenne of Southern cuisine, Paula Deen (or rather, like SNL’s Kristin Wiig talking like Paula Deen), though that probably also had something to do with the very Southern quantities of butter called for by the recipe! And then, of course, there’s the heady fragrance leaking out the sides of the waffle iron in puffs of tantalizing steam—a blend of eggs and flour that casts its own singular spell. Seriously, it’s hard to imagine anything being wrong in the world when that lovely scent fills your kitchen!

In the case of this particular recipe, both of those qualities—the golden brown peaks and valleys, the buttery fragrance—are only enhanced by the addition of the shredded ham and the grated cheese, which the recipe suggests you sprinkle across the surface of the batter once it’s introduced to the hot waffle iron (see final paragraph below for an alternate approach to the cheese). The pair function in much the way ham and cheese layered within a really good croissant does. Which is to say that it takes something quite magnificent and makes it even more so, adding texture and flavor that bullhorns the various other ingredients. And herein lies the secret of this simple recipe: when you add the salty yin of ham and cheese to a waffle’s already sweet, malty yang, and then gild it with a pat of butter and a few shots of warm Maple syrup, you’re left with something that’s near impossible to stop eating.

A few final tips on the recipe: To ensure that the melted butter merges smoothly with the other wet ingredients, be sure to first bring the egg yolks, the buttermilk, and the soda water to room temperature (a half hour or so out of the fridge should do it). Also, even with a liberal spraying of non-stick vegetable oil to the waffle iron, I still found that the cheese caused the finished waffle to stick to the upper level of the iron. Instead, try adding the cheese to the batter before ladling it onto the iron’s hot surface. That way the cheese will be distributed throughout the body of the waffle and will not simply be limited to its upper ridges. In other words, a more consistently cheesy waffle and one that won’t cling to the top of your iron.

Ingredients:
—1¾ cups flour
—1 tbsp sugar
—2 tsp baking powder
—1 tsp baking soda
—1 tsp kosher salt
—3 large eggs, separated
—1 cup (2 sticks) melted butter, plus more for serving
—1 cup buttermilk
—3/4 cup soda water
—Non-stick vegetable oil spray
—1 cup thinly cut strips of cooked ham (about 1/2 lb)
—3/4 cup shredded sharp white cheddar (about 1/2 lb)
—Maple syrup

Special equipment:
—A waffle iron

Directions:
—Preheat oven to 300 degrees. Heat waffle iron until very hot. Whisk flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and kosher salt in a large bowl.
—Using an electric mixer, beat 3 large egg whites in a medium bowl until medium-soft peaks form.
—Whisk 3 large egg yolks, buttermilk, and soda water in a medium bowl; gradually whisk into dry ingredients. Fold in egg whites.
—Coat waffle iron with non-stick vegetable oil spray. Pour batter onto iron, spreading it into corners (amount of batter needed will vary according to machine). Scatter 1 rounded tbsp. of ham and 1 tbsp. shredded cheddar over each waffle (see final paragraph above for an alternate approach to the cheese). Cook until golden brown and cooked through (about 5 minutes). Transfer to a baking sheet; keep waffles warm in oven between batches. Serve with butter and warm maple syrup.

Makes 12 waffles

NOTE: This batter also makes a fine waffle without the addition of the ham and cheese.

The post 05/03/12 • THE WAFFLE, FULLY-LOADED appeared first on THE RECIPE GRINDER.

From Fine Cooking (click here to view the recipe)

I don’t get to L.A. all that often — maybe once or twice a year, if that — but on those occasions when I do, a favorite thing to do there is visiting the Farmer’s Market, the one at Third and Fairfax. Of course, without access to a working kitchen, these excursions are generally less about shopping for some future meal (though I’ve been sorely tempted by some of that gorgeous California produce on occasion) then they are the immediate gratification of buying something that can be savored on the spot. And believe me, there’s no shortage of things to choose from in this arena. Years ago, while staying in West Hollywood with Alfredo for a long weekend, we got into the routine of starting each day at a Tex Mex operation that was set up along one side of the market, just a long counter and a few tables and chairs (plus a wall of signed and framed movie stills — very Hollywood). And, oh yes, some very good food, too. I was so enthralled with the place — and particularly with their breakfast burrito — that I vowed to quit my magazine job as soon as I returned to New York and open my own offshoot of the operation.

Well, that idea evaporated as soon as we landed at LaGuardia, which was probably a good thing for lots of reasons, not least of which is the fact that the restaurant itself closed up shop a few years later. Still, they were on to something with that breakfast burrito, and the memory has lingered these many years. Of course, a breakfast burrito is not in and of itself all that complex — after all, it’s just a flour tortilla stuffed with some sort of bean mixture, a little grated cheese, eggs, maybe a slice or two of avocado, and if you like, a few splashes of salsa. But when you’re dealing with something as basic as this, the room for error is slim. In other words, it’s critical that you get the ratio of the various ingredients just right, and that they be of the best quality. So even with the right recipe in hand, there’s still the challenge of finding a ripe avocado and a good, juicy tomato — no small feat during an east coast winter. Better to stick with scrambled eggs and a toasted bagel.

That’s what I told myself anyway, as repeated samplings of various breakfast burritos closer to home failed to turn up anything that approximated my Farmer’s Market memory. Or perhaps certain foods just taste better on a cool, California morning. Either way, as unassuming as it might be, the burrito took on for me a kind of prohibitive, don’t-try-this-at-home aura. That is until I stumbled on the following recipe while poking around the Fine Cooking website. As near as I can tell, it’s not a recipe that ever ran in the magazine but rather comes out of a book the publication released in the fall of last year, under the misleading title of Just Tacos. (I mean a burrito is not a taco… is it?!)

Anyway, the recipe underscored just how silly this hands-off approach has been, while also reminding what it was that I liked so much about my California burrito eating experience in the first place. Let’s start with the obvious: the simple but no less inspired pairing of scrambled eggs with some sort of saucy bean mixture. This is one of those Fred and Ginger combos that just defies logic in its overall compatibility — the taste and texture of the beans serving as a bullhorn for the mild flavor of the eggs. In the Fine Cooking recipe this contrast is enhanced by the addition of a chopped tomato, two chipotles in adobo (also chopped, and easily located at most markets these days) and some sautéed onion to the beans (I went for pinto but black is also fine). And while I’m sure I could have found a better looking tomato cruising any number of LA markets, as you can see from the photo above, the one I located here was more than up to the challenge. (Ditto the avocado — yes, ripe! — which comes into play a little later).

As for the eggs themselves, the recipe suggests that you remove them from the heat when they’re still a little moist, which also plays to the egg/bean combo’s strengths. Now I happen to know a number of people for whom the sight of a wobbly egg can make their own legs go wobbly (I live with one) but the benefit of working with “wet” eggs here can’t be over-emphasized. For one thing it allows the eggs to better merge with the sauce surrounding the beans. And for another, when you’re wrapping warm ingredients inside a warm tortilla there’s bound to be a little more cooking going on, so a wet egg will firm up, while an already dry egg will just get drier (and that makes my knees go wobbly).

To all of this you add the cool earthiness of sliced avocado, the bite of chopped cilantro, and a generous sprinkling of grated Monterey Jack cheese — one of the other things I liked so much about my Farmer’s Market burrito and a cheese that only improves when it gets all gooey (as it does here). The melted cheese binds the various interior ingredients together, while the warm tortilla keeps everything assembled in a more or less manageable fashion, depending on how adept an eater you are. Either way, a plate and a napkin are a good idea. So too is assembling the burrito with a tortilla that’s either 10- or 12-inches around, as recommended by the recipe. I used one closer to 6-inches (just my luck, the market was out of the larger) and while my carb intake may have benefitted from the smaller size, getting burrito to mouth proved a little more challenging. (It also made for a somewhat less alluring “beauty” shot, as the opening image attests — a burrito made with a six-inch tortilla just won’t stay closed!) Still, even with half the contents of the burrito scattered about my plate, I couldn’t have been happier. It’s nice to know you don’t have to fly to the other side of the country to taste a little west coast sunshine.

Ingredients:
—4 10- to 12-inch flour tortillas
—4 tbs. vegetable oil, divided
—1 cup chopped white onion
—1 large tomato, chopped
—2 canned chipotles en adobo, chopped, including some sauce
—2 (15 oz.) pinto or black beans, rinsed and drained
—3/4 tsp. salt, divided
—8 large eggs
—2 tbs milk or Mexican crema
—1 cup grated Monterey Jack cheese
—1 ripe avocado, quartered, pitted, peeled, and sliced
—1/2 cup chopped cilantro

Directions:
—Heat oven to 350 degrees. Wrap the tortillas together flat in foil and heat in the oven until warm, 10 minutes.
—While the tortillas are heating, heat 2 tbs. of the oil in a large, heavy skillet over medium heat and cook the onion, stirring, until golden, about 10 minutes. Add the tomato, chipotles, beans, and ½ tsp salt and cook, stirring until heated through, for about 5 minutes. Set aside.
—In a medium nonstick skillet, heat the remaining 2 tbs oil over medium heat. Scramble the eggs and crema or milk with a fork and add them to the pan. Cook the eggs, stirring, until curds form, season with the remaining ¼ tsp salt, and remove from the heat when they’re still slightly moist.
—Lay a warm tortilla flat and arrange the fillings in a row side by side: ¼ of the eggs, ¼ of the bean mixture, ¼ of the cheese, ¼ of the sliced avocado, and ¼ of the chopped cilantro. Fold up the bottom of the tortilla over some of the filling and fold in the sides to make an open package. Repeat with the remaining tortillas and serve immediately.

Note: If eggs aren’t your thing, or if you want to make this into a rice and beans burrito, substitute 2 cups of warm cooked rice for the eggs.

Serves 4

The post 03/01/12 • BEST BREAKFAST BURRITO! appeared first on THE RECIPE GRINDER.

From the Feb., 2007 issue of Gourmet (click here to view the recipe)

I love the idea of a big breakfast, even if I rarely eat one. Come to think of it, that might be why I love a big breakfast — because it’s not part of my ordinary weekday routine, and because it tends to be something I associate with weekends or holidays when the alarm isn’t set for 6:00 am, or when friends and family are staying over and don’t emerge from their darkened rooms until well past 10:00 am. Those are the times I can actually imagine wanting to eat something more than a bowl of cereal or a toasted bagel, particularly if everyone takes their time getting to the table, and the hour commonly allotted to breakfast gradually shuffles along towards lunch. Of course, in all likelihood that’s the exact opposite of the kind of morning most of us will be having this week, when the post-holiday period typically means starting your day like a bat out of hell. Still, I like it as an ideal to hold in our heads — a metaphor for the way I at least would like to think about the start of this new year, to say nothing of a fuzzy memory of the holidays still in the rearview mirror.

It’s also a good excuse to share with you this recipe I pulled from Gourmet several years ago, and one I tend to put to use a couple times each year, in a variety of scenarios not unlike those mentioned above. The magazine calls the dish a “broccoli and cheddar skillet flan,” which to my mind doesn’t do a very good job of describing the actual dish. I think it’s the word flan that throws me off, since I tend to associate flan with the baked custard dessert or with other things that are generally smoother in texture and with more of a jiggle to it than this dish has. In point of fact, a flan can also include foods such as quiche, which this does resemble (in other words, not smooth and with little to no jiggle), though technically not a frittata, which this item also brings to mind — perhaps more so than a quiche.

The principal thing to know is that it’s an egg-based dish that’s baked in a skillet, which automatically makes me think “breakfast” (even if eaten at noon), but that could also serve perfectly well as a light lunch or dinner. The other thing to note is that it comes from a section of the magazine called “10 Minutes Mains” — in other words, recipes for people in a hurry or who have other things they want to do than muck around in the kitchen all day. That said I’d argue that it takes slightly more than ten minutes to prepare, though not by much. Either way, it’s a fast, easy meal to assemble.

Key to this is the fact that the recipes suggests buying the frozen variety of two key ingredients: hash browns and chopped broccoli. Purists may be put off by this and, of course, there’s nothing to keep you from chopping and steaming your own broccoli, or from shredding your own hash browns, but I have to admit I like the convenience these shortcuts offer, especially when you consider the time and labor involved in making hash browns. And if it makes you feel any better, you still have to grate the cheese yourself — a big piece of Cheddar (as sharp as you can find) and a small hunk of Parmesan. There’s logic to this, of course, since the broccoli and the hash browns serve more of a textural role here (meaning frozen is less of an issue), whereas the cheese is key to the flan’s flavor (so buying the pre-grated variety would result in something that didn’t taste nearly as good).

There’s also a chopped shallot sautéed in olive oil to enhance the flavors. Once this has had a chance to cook down and caramelize (about three minutes) the hash browns are added, along with a small amount of salt. This mixture is then given a few minutes in the pan (with an occasional stir), and later spread across the skillet and allowed to cook undisturbed for a short time — a move that gives it a chance to crisp up and form a kind of crunchy, buttery crust for the various ingredients to follow. Think of it as the reward at the base of each slice.

Next comes the chopped broccoli — scattered across the potato shallot mixture — then the eggs, which have been whisked together with the milk, pepper, salt, a small amount of nutmeg (the perfect foil for all that eggy richness), as well as the grated Cheddar and a small portion of the Parmesan cheese. The remaining cheese is then sprinkled across the top, and the whole thing is slipped into a 375-degree oven to bake for 12 minutes or so, or just until the edges start to set but the center is still a little loose. Five more minutes under the broiler to puff up (ah, the wonders of cheese) and to turn a golden brown, and you’re ready to eat.

A few quick comments about the ingredients: since, as mentioned above, much of the flavor here is derived from the cheese, the finished flan will only be as good as the quality of the Cheddar and the Parmesan you use, so go for the freshest and sharpest you can find. (Skimp and you’ll end up with something that borders on the bland.) Also, despite the enticing presence of all that cheese, the finished product is more eggy than it is cheesy, so if you’re expecting that first forkful to trail strands of melted Cheddar, better recalibrate your expectations. The cheese adds plenty of moisture and flavor, but a gooey cheese omelette this isn’t. Still, whatever your feelings about melted cheese, this baked egg dish (flan, frittata — take your pick) makes for a perfect slow start to the day . . . and the year.

Ingredients:
—6 large eggs
—1 cup whole milk
—1/4 tsp black pepper
—1/8 rounded tsp ground nutmeg
—3/4 tsp salt
—1 cup grated sharp Cheddar
—1/3 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano
—3 tbs olive oil
—1 large shallot, chopped
—1 (1 lb) bag frozen hash browns, thawed in a microwave oven
—1 (10 oz) box frozen, chopped broccoli, thawed.

Directions:
—Put oven rack in middle position and preheat oven to 375 degrees.
—Whisk together eggs, milk, pepper, nutmeg, and ¼ tsp salt until combined, then whisk in Cheddar and 3 tbs parmesan.
—Heat oil in a well-seasoned 10-inch cast-iron skillet over moderately high heat until hot but not smoking, then sauté shallot, stirring occasionally, until browned (about 3 minutes). Spread potatoes evenly in skillet and cook, undisturbed, 2 minutes. Remove from heat and spread broccoli over potatoes, then pour in egg mixture. Sprinkle with remaining parmesan. Bake until set 2 inches from edge but still slightly wobbly in center, 12 to 15 minutes. Turn on broiler. Broil 4 to 5 inches from heat until top is set, puffed, and golden brown.

Special equipment:
—Well-seasoned 10 inch skillet

Note: “Seasoning” or “curing” is the process by which a cast-iron skillet takes on nonstick properties. If you’re starting with a new skillet, wash it in hot water with a mild soap to remove the anti-rust coating, then dry by reheating on the stovetop. Once completely dry, coat with a 1/4 cup of lard or a comparable amount of cooking oil, then place in a 200 degree oven for three hours. This slow bake allows the grease to penetrate the skillet and will turn it a shiny black that tells you it’s been cured. Once cool, wipe down, repeating this final step a few hours later. Keep in mind that even a well-seasoned skillet needs to be re-seasoned every few years, though frying up the occasional slab of bacon never hurt either (that’s right, people — a reason to eat more bacon!).

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From the Sept., 2011 Bon Appetit

On a normal weekday morning, breakfast for me tends to go in one of two directions: the healthy option, consisting of some sort of whole grain cereal (Grape Nuts if I can find them) topped with a handful of berries and dampened with a little milk or yogurt, or the less healthy option, featuring a toasted cinnamon raisin bagel and a thick smear of cream cheese. Whichever direction I take (and lately it’s been the less healthy one) these various provisions are purchased at the Korean-run deli around the corner from my office, where the ladies manning the cash registers couldn’t be nicer, and the quality of the food — bagel, berry, what have you — is never better than just okay. While I sometimes wish for something a little more inspired to start the day, in the end there’s my desk to get to, and with it some sort of deadline to meet, and any fantasy of searching out a better breakfast is quickly swallowed up by more pressing concerns.

All of which makes those occasions when breakfast is something more that just a meal consumed in front of the computer screen an event worth elevating. Of course, such moments tend to fall on weekends or holidays, times when the first meal of the day happens somewhat later in the “morning,” and when it frequently does double duty as the second meal of the day as well. In other words, we’re talking Big Breakfasts here — the kind that in another time or place would fuel you through a morning spent baling hay or herding livestock but that for most of us these days is simply a good excuse to gather friends and family around the table to eat the sorts of foods we all love but rarely allow ourselves to indulge in. Not unlike Thanksgiving, though in a smaller, less gut-busting kind of way.

I suppose that’s one reason I was so drawn to this recipe for sweet potato and pork belly hash. Maybe it’s that the whole thing is cooked up in a skillet (I’ve already shared with you my weakness for this particular cooking implement), or that it makes ample use of one of fall’s signature vegetables, or that it employs the yin and yang of red wine vinegar and Maple syrup as a final flavoring component, but whichever the case, something about the dish struck the fantasy chord for me. In this, the recipe (from the September issue of Bon Appetit, an issue that keeps on giving — see posting from Sept. 8^th) produced the reaction I invariably hope for whenever I’m scanning instructions for a new dish, namely the immediate conjuring of a variety of tantalizing scenarios in which I might prepare it. Experience that and you know you’ve landed on a keeper.

That fantasy element is half the fun of reading cookbooks and cooking magazines (and one reason I like to do it just before turning out the lights each night). Of course, if your instincts are good, actually making and eating the dish can be just as pleasurable, as was the case here. Part of that for me was learning to prepare something I’ve never worked with before, namely pork belly. It’s an item that’s showing up on an increasing number of restaurant menus and for good reason — once cooked it’s wonderfully tender and flavorful. The catch is that getting it to this point requires a few steps, namely a slow braise in the oven, followed by an overnight stay in the fridge to further break it down, and finally the removal of the skin (steps illustrated in the images below). What’s more, it’s an item few butchers carry, so you’ll need to order it in advance, either through your local butcher, or via the online resource listed below.

If all that sounds like too much to bite off, you can always substitute the pork belly for slab bacon as I did on one occasion. The latter is something many butchers do tend to stock, and there are no preparatory steps involved, so it’s certainly an easier option. What’s more, the two are closely related (bacon is simply pork belly that’s been cured), so the switch is a logical one. Of course, there will be differences: bacon has a smokier flavor and a chewier texture (similar to that of the salty meat one finds in a frisee aux lardons salad) than the pork belly, whereas the pork belly is juicy and tender-crisp in a way the bacon can’t approach. All things being equal, I’d probably opt for the pork belly — there’s just something about the slightly fattier quality of the uncured pork that lends the dish a certain decadence, but either way, you can’t go wrong.

And the recipe couldn’t be easier — a bit of chopping (the shallots, the sweet potato), a series of quick sautés starting first with the meat, followed by the potatoes (I increased the pan time here from 10 minutes to 15, as I wasn’t convinced the potatoes would be tender enough), then finally the shallots. Once done all three are mixed together in the pan and drizzled with the syrup and vinegar, an addition that enhances the caramelized quality of the shallot and potatoes while underscoring the salty/sweet combination of flavors. Perfection. And a welcome addition to my Sunday morning breakfast arsenal.

One final note: although the recipe lists as optional the addition of a single poached egg to each serving of hash, it’s a move I strongly encourage. The yolk here serves to sauce the finished dish, moistening the potatoes and pork and enhancing the entire experience in that miraculous way that only a really good sauce can. In fact, unless you’re feeding the toddlers pictured in BA’s photo, I’d increase the number of eggs from one to two per person. I mean seriously, this is pork hash we’re talking about — why hold back now?

See directions at the end of this posting for my foolproof method for poaching an egg.

Ingredients:
—1 lb fresh, skin-on pork belly (or 1 lb slab bacon)
—Kosher salt
—Freshly ground black pepper
—1 large sprig thyme
—4 garlic cloves, smashed
—3 cups low-salt chicken stock
—3 tbs extra-virgin olive oil, divided
—2 lbs red-skinned sweet potatoes, peeled, cut into ¾” cubes
—3 large shallots, chopped
—2 tbsp *Banyuls vinegar or red wine vinegar
—2 tsp pure Maple syrup
—8 poached eggs (optional)

*Banyuls vinegar (which has been showing up on an increasing number of new recipes lately) is made from the sweet wine of Banyuls-sur-Mer in southwest France, where it’s barrel-aged for five years or so. The vinegar develops a tart, nutty flavor that’s richer and more complex than the balsamic variety.

Note #1: If substituting the slab bacon for the pork belly you will not need the thyme, garlic, or chicken stock.

Note #2: If using pork belly you will need to order this in advance, either from your butcher or through heritagepork.com.

Directions if using pork belly:
—Preheat oven to 275 degrees. Season pork belly generously with salt and pepper. Place in a large ovenproof saucepan. Add thyme and garlic. Add chicken stock. Bring to a simmer over low heat, cover tightly, and braise in oven until tender, about 3 hours. Uncover; let cool. Transfer pork belly to a 9” glass pie dish. Place another 9” glass pie dish on top of pork belly. Weight with a 15-oz canned good. Chill overnight.
—Remove skin from pork belly. Cut meat in ½” cubes. Heat 1 tbsp oil in a large cast-iron skillet over medium-high heat. Add pork and sauté until browned on all sides, about 4 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer pork to a medium bowl. Season potatoes with salt and pepper. Add to same skillet; sauté until golden brown, about 10 minutes. Using slotted spoon, transfer to bowl with pork. Add 2 tbsp oil and shallots to skillet; sauté over medium heat until golden brown, 3—4 minutes. Return potatoes and pork with any accumulated juices to pan. Drizzle with vinegar and syrup mixture; stir to coat. Cook, stirring occasionally, until heated through, about 2 minutes. Serve with poached eggs if desired.

Directions if using slab bacon:
—Cut meat in ½” cubes. Heat 1 tbsp oil in a large cast-iron skillet over medium-high heat. Add bacon and sauté until browned on all sides, about 4 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer bacon to a medium bowl, and pour out about half of the bacon fat. Season potatoes with salt and pepper. Add to same skillet; sauté until golden brown, about 10 minutes. Using slotted spoon, transfer to bowl with bacon. Add 2 tbsp oil and shallots to skillet; sauté over medium heat until golden brown, 3—4 minutes. Return potatoes and bacon with any accumulated juices to pan. Drizzle with vinegar and syrup; stir to coat. Cook, stirring occasionally, until heated through, about 2 minutes. Serve with poached eggs if desired.

Directions for poaching eggs:
—Bring water to almost a boil in a shallow saucepan or skillet. Add two tablespoons distilled white vinegar or seasoned rice vinegar.
—Working with one egg at a time, crack egg into a cup, place cup close to top of the water, then gently drop the egg into the water. Using a spoon, nudge the egg whites closer to their yolks. Note: as many as eight eggs can be dropped into one 12″ pan and cooked simultaneously.
—Turn off the heat. Cover the pan. Let sit for 4 minutes, until the whites are cooked through.
—Lift eggs out of pan with a slotted spoon.

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