The Dinner Files

Yesterday was a very gloomy gray by the Bay. It’s the last weekend in May, the farmers market is absolutely overflowing with cherries and peaches are coming in at a quick pace behind, but the produce couldn’t quite convince me that summer was anywhere in the air. It was a day for spring flavors and winter comfort, which happens a lot in San Francisco, where chilly winds pick up in time for dinner on even the most promising sunny spring days. So the morel mushrooms I bought were not simply sauteed in butter or tossed with asparagus spears in a spring-y / early summer way. I chopped them up and cooked them with rice and broth and a bit of cream and a generous handful of cheese for an easy, calming morel mushroom risotto. Since it is spring, though, I topped the whole thing with chiffonade of mint (that’s thin slices or “ribbons” of mint to you and me) and a few minced green onions (chives would have been even better). A bit of lightly steamed spinach topped with finishing salt and burnt caramel ice cream from an unidentified source completed our dinner. All were pleased with the dinner, but my dashing husband proclaimed the ice cream the best he’d ever had. Too bad it isn’t for sale. And too bad we don’t have any more in the freezer. Perhaps I’ll get to work on figuring out how to make my own….

We had a head of cabbage burning a hole in our fridge. My dashing husband is a huge fan of this butter-braised cabbage I make, but I wanted something with just the tiniest bit something more going on. So I popped a few mustard seeds and fenugreek seeds in a bit of grapeseed oil before pouring 1/2 cup of water to cool down the pan, melting the butter in that, and then braising the cabbage. Everyone was happy. Even Ernest, who ate a pile of shredded raw cabbage before I got a chance to get it all in the pot.

With the cabbage I cooked up a family favorite – brown butter dal – and some black “forbidden” rice that had been burning a hole in our cupboard, thus continuing Project Eat That Rice.

The sky is crying. It’s that kind of rain: It actually feels sad. It’s cold and still and wet, wet, wet. Boy am I glad I made wild rice congee last night and got to heat up the leftovers for lunch. Regular readers will well guess that this dinner fit very nicely into Project Eat That Rice – it used three kinds! Feel free to experiment with different types of rice, although the wild rice retains more of its texture under the long cooking and gives the porridge a slightly less porridge-y consistency.

This dish is always a big hit with the family since everyone can customize their bowl with the garnishes of their choice. Green onions or chives or some sort of allium are sort of key, from my point of view, and most uncharacteristically we didn’t have any in the fridge. So last night found me pulling long green leaves in the backyard in the dark, smelling each handful to identify the garlic chives that were deeply integrated with rogue grass in our un-weeded garden. Our fridge did contain some lemongrass, though, so I peeled off the tough outer layers and chopped up the tender inner core, which was a lovely addition to the congee, adding a little bright kick to this warm and cozy dish.

Last night Ernest took particular interest in the garnishing process, asking, when he was done, “Does that look beautiful?” Yes, we told him. Yes it does.

These stuffed grape leaves were part of Project Eat That Rice and part the result of my dashing husband opening a jar of preserved grape leaves a friend had jarred and given to me. He thought they were already stuffed and ready to eat. Just imagine his disppointment when instead of luscious and rich rice filled leaves with plenty of olive oil he was met with plain old leaves blanched and jarred in salt water. It’s quite sad, really.

But it has a happy ending: I made stuffed grape leaves and they were delicious, if I do say so myself. And I have a back-up source, my toughest critic. My dashing husband declared them remarkably flavorful and served himself three (3!) helpings. Eat them as you like, but we liked them with a squirt of lemon juice and a bit of fresh goat cheese alongside.

Brown rice stuffed grape leaves

2 Tbsp. olive oil
4 onions, finely chopped
1 tsp. salt
2 garlic cloves, minced
8 green onions, finely chopped
2 cups short grain brown rice
1/2 cup pine nuts
1/2 cup sunflower seeds
1 tsp. freshly ground black pepper (it seems like a lot, but it works)
1/4 cup minced fresh mint (same as for pepper )
5 dozen grape leaves
Extra delicioso olive oil for drizzling
Lemon wedges
Fresh goat cheese or soft feta (optional)

Heat a saute pan or medium pot over medium-high heat. Add oil, onion, and salt. Cook, stirring a fair amount, until onions are tender, about 3 minutes. Add garlic and cook until tender, about 1 minute. Add green onion and cook, stirring, until wilted, about 1 minute. Add rice, stir to coat thoroughly, and add 3 cups water. Bring to a boil, cover, and reduce heat to low. Cook, undisturbed, for 30 minutes. Turn off heat and let sit 15 minutes. Uncover, fluff, and stir in pine nuts and sunflower seeds. Let sit until just warm and stir in pepper and mint. Taste and adjust salt and pepper to taste.

Lay a grape leaf in front of you. Add a spoonful of filling to the center by the stem. Fold up the bits of leaf below the stem and tuck under – as you can – to form a little bundle. Fold sides of leaves over the filling bundle and roll entire bundle to wrap completely in the remaining grape leaf.

Place stuffed and rolled grape leaves on a lightly oiled baking tray. Cover with aluminum foil and bake at 350 for about half and hour. Uncover and drizzle grape leaves with high quality, really tasty olive oil. Let sit until warm or cool and serve with lemon wedges for spritzing and goat cheese, if that’s your style.

I’m not sure if it was all the germ-infused hand-shaking at an event last night, the food I ate after wards, or the result of a stunning – nay, shocking – breech of etiquette made by yours truly but an hour after delivering a lecture all about etiquette, but my gut is, um, not functioning properly. Sipping-mint-tea, staying-in-bed, cursing-the-heavens not functioning properly. Enough said.

Last night I gave what is now my annual etiquette lecture to the willing seniors of my alma mater. The idea behind the event is that they are going out into the world and need some information besides Habermas’s theory of the public sphere in order to function in the adult world, that, perhaps, they will be brought to lunch or dinner as part of a job interview and they just might want to know where their bread plate is. They always seem very appreciative of the information and, I hope, the spirit in which I give it.

I think they all would have gotten a big kick if they had seen me about an hour later, at the bar at Yakuza Lounge, sharing a plate of duck fried rice (with duck confit, shitake mushrooms, and duck cracklings – hey, it seemed like a good idea atthe time) with a friend: When a chunk of the rich rice fell on the bar in front of me instead of into my mouth and I picked it up with my fingers and shoved it in my pie hole. It was wrong, but post-etiquette lecture it was pretty funny, and I’ll always go for the cheap laugh. Is a churning gut my punishment?

We got a beautiful head of Treviso radicchio in our CSA box this last week. I could have grilled it, sauteed it, broiled it, roasted it, thrown it in a salad. But instead I made an old family favorite – something I created maybe 10 years ago and which my dashing husband loves. I warn you: it’s weird, it’s intense, it’s probably a bit much for most people. Radicchio and blue cheese risotto. It’s a bit blue-ish purple, which I find rather fabulous. 

And yes, Ernie ate it. I did, however, pull out his portion before I added the blue cheese. 

And the best part? The risotto cakes I just made myself for lunch. There’s a whole tray of them in the fridge waiting to be fried up for dinner. 

Risotto Cakes

Leftover risotto

1 egg per 1 1/2 cup leftover risotto

1 cup white rice ground into powder in a coffee or spice mill (this will be enough for plenty of cakes and make it super easy to coat them and keep your hands somewhat dry)

Vegetable oil

Stir risotto to loosen it a bit if it’s started to get clumpy. Beat egg(s) and stir into risotto. Put ground rice powder in a shallow bowl.

Scoop risotto mixture in 1/3-cup balls and put them in the rice powder. With a dry hand, pick up rice powder from around the risotto and spread it over the risotto ball, slightly flattening it into more of a patty or cake. When cake is thoroughly coated, transfer to platter to baking sheet. Repeat with remaining risotto.

Heat a large frying pan over medium heat. Swirl in enough vegetable oil to coat the bottom. Place risotto cakes (as many as will fit without touching) in pan and cook, undisturbed, until browned. Carefully flip each cake over and brown on other side. Serve and eat pretty much immediately. They are extra delicious with a salad of hearty or bitter greens with a pungent sherry-vinegar or balsamic-vinegar dressing.

Can I recommend a glass of cheap Spanish rosé cava to go with your de-frosted Black Pepper Beef With Turnips, rice pilaf*, sautéed baby bok choy, and final presidential debate? Worked for me!

*One Kind of Rice Pilaf

Brown a finely chopped onion a about a tablespoon of oil (I used grapeseed) and a teaspoon of salt in a medium sized, heavy bottomed pot. Add 1/4 teaspoon each of cumin and fennel seeds, a couple cardamom pods, a few whole cloves and allspice, a bay leaf and half a cinnamon stick. Stir that until it smells super duper yummy. Add a cup of rice and cook, stirring a lot, until the rice is opaque and smells just a bit cooked (like when you microwave one of those rice-filled heating pads) but isn’t browned at all. Add 2 cups water, bring the whole thing to a boil. Cover, reduce heat to low, and cook without even thinking about looking at it or otherwise distrubing it in any way for 15 minutes. Turn off heat and let sit–again, leave it completely alone–for 5 minutes. Uncover, fluff, and serve.

In our farm box last week it was clear that summer and fall are in a passionate embrace and we are the voyeuristic onlookers. Tomatoes, melons, and zucchini were all still there, but a butternut squash showed up too. And what says the cold and rains are a-comin’ like a winter squash? So last night I let Ernie choose the entry in Project Eat That Rice (a little short grain brown number from the Central Valley), made his favorite zucchini and tofu stir-fry, and cooked the lovely little butternut with garlic, ginger, and mustard seeds. The whole thing was sort of painfully good for us–so healthful and frugal and all–but we loved it just the same.

Zucchini & Tofu Stir-Fry

1 Tbsp. (or so) of vegetable or grapeseed oil

An amount of garlic you like (I like about 5 o 6 cloves for this), minced

Same with fresh ginger (for me it’s a nice 3-inch piece), peeled and finely grated or shredded or whatever you want to call it

Red Chile Flakes (to taste and optional, a chopped fresh chile works great if you have one)

4 green onions, chopped (optional)

1 Tbsp. fermented/salted/Chinese black beans

2 Tbsp. sherry or rice wine vinegar or white wine if the pantry is in that bad of shape

3 medium zucchini, chopped into large but manageable pieces

1/2 cup broth or water

8- to 12-oz. silken firm tofu (the shelf-stable kind), cut into small but still bite-size pieces

Soy sauce to taste

Heat the oil is a large and deep frying, saute, or braising pan. Add garlic, ginger, red chile flakes, and green onions. Cook, stirring, until all pasty-looking and fragrant, about 2 minutes. Add black beans and sherry. Stir to combine. Add zucchini, stir; add broth or water and stir and cook until zucchini is tender and liquid is mostly gone. Depending on how fresh and tender (or not) the zucchini is, I’ve been known to cover it to cook for a few minutes. Add tofu, combine and cook until hot. Season with soy sauce to taste.

It’s really only Minnesotan because I made it in Minnesota. And because I added chopped leftover brats at the last minute. Yes, it was a serious clean-out-the-fridge sort of dinner. But it was also pretty damn good. All the more so because I located the soy sauce. My mom keeps it in the fridge. I was all, “she’s crazy, who keeps soy sauce in the fridge?” until I read the side of the bottle: Keep refrigerated once open.

Oops. Have I been risking life and limb (or at least stomach) for years by not refrigerating soy sauce? Seriously, it never even occured to me to do so. All that salt, how could it go bad? What could grow in that environment?

[Addendum for the Lovely Luisa:  Honestly, it never occurred to me that someone would want to make this. Start with leftover cooked rice. The leftover part is key since you want the rice a bit dried out--the better to get it to brown up. If I know I'm going to use leftover rice for fried rice I even spread it out on a pan and let it air-dry for a few hours (in the fridge can get too dry if spread out, making the whole thing crunchy in the uncooked-rice way).

Beat an egg or two with a pinch of salt and a few pinches of sugar. Heat some oil in a frying pan, add the egg, and use a spatula to pull the cooked parts in towards the center of the pan, letting the uncooked egg flow onto the now-exposed pan. Continue doing that until the egg is almost completely cooked (the top will still be a bit wet). You can flip it to cook the top or not, depends on how you like your eggs. Turn this omelet onto a cutting board and chop.

Put the pan back on the heat, add more oil and saute plenty of minced garlic, finely shredded fresh ginger, and chopped green onion. I also throw in a chopped serrano chile or some red pepper flakes. After that mess it all awesome smelling, add any vegetables or chopped meat you want in the rice (if these are already cooked let them get hot before adding the rice; if they aren't cooked, cook them until they aren't letting off any liquid before adding the rice). Then stir in the rice. let it sit and brown a bit, then stir it up good. Repeat until it's hot and as browned as you like. Stir in soy sauce to taste and then stir in the chopped egg.

Chopped cilantro makes a nice garnish, if you have some.

Note: unless you use a lot of oil and have a very hot stove, it will not look like restaurant fried rice. It's a much lighter, cleaner tasting version--unless, that is, you use leftover bratwurst....]

Rice and double beans, really. I bought the green beans at the jalapeño-less wild-rice-saturated market the other day. They looked good. Then I got them home and started trimming them. No snap. They were old. Not in-the-store-too-long old; they were on-the-vine-too-long old, with that slightly woody texture thing starting to happen. The upside to that is the beans inside were bigger and taking on a toothy starchiness that I rather like, in its way. So I cooked them a little extra and marinated them overnight. They were edible. Even tasty. But again, in their way. Qualified, circumstantial deliciousness.

I made a simple rice pilaf–sautéed a chopped onion in olive oil with salt until it started to brown, added a few cloves of chopped garlic, added a cup of long grain white rice, sautéed that until the rice looked opaque, added 2 cups of water (broth would have been better, but I had none), brought it to a boil, covered it, reduced heat to a simmer, and let it sit for 15 minutes, turned off the heat, left it covered and sitting there for 5 minutes, uncovered it, fluffed it, and voila! Oh wait, I almost forgot: I also added a handful of orzo to the rice right before adding the water. It makes it a bit like homemade Rice-a-Roni.

You like the look of that dal? Here’s how to make it: devote a decade or so of your life to studying French history, drop that and become a “food writer,” take about 5 years figuring out how that works during which time you spend six months writing for what may have been the worst magazine ever published and another six months at an overpriced cooking school where you learn very little and get even less professional help, be lucky enough to have a friend who gets a job at a large and well-respected regional lifestyle magazine who leaves said job and recommends you as a replacement, have another friend corporate-savvy enough to tell you how to ace interviews, ace the interviews, work there for almost three years, bust out as a freelancer, end up on Amy’s Kitchen PR list, receive an unsolicited box of their new canned soup varieties, bring said soups to the family cabin because you’re never going to try them at home, open the can of “Indian Curry Lentil Dal,” heat it up, and serve with rice pilaf and marinated green beans.