Swiss Chard Sautee

To finish up old business, despite the fact that Google Reader still seems to be working at the moment, it was supposed to die yesterday. I have already provided a button on the left to follow me using bloglovin. Note that now there is also a button to follow me using feedly, if that is your preference. Feedly seems to be winning the RSS race to become the next Google Reader, so the option is there if you want it. This is an equal opportunity RSS blog.

Now on to the fun.

And that fun revolves around Swiss Chard. Below is the lovely plant growing in my front garden. It's big and lush and beautiful, and frankly it looks delicious. It's been growing so fast in all the rain we've been having that I have been able to try out a little side dish sautee twice now.

Sauteed Swiss Chard with Parmesan

Click the link above for the original recipe. It was a fairly quick one. Just chop the stems and leaves.

Then, stir fry to stems for a while (under 10 minutes) with the sauce ingredients and then add the leaves and wilt. Add some parmesan cheese and voila.

Between the first attempt and the second, my husband learned that his grandfather enjoyed swiss chard. Boiled. Can't say that I'd recommend that or that we will ever convince my mother-in-law to try swiss chard again, not after a childhood bogged down with the taste of it after extensive boiling.

In our version of swiss chard, it has a strong, tangy flavor and a bit of a crunch, as long as you don't overcook it too much, as well as a great color. I'm not a huge fan of wine-based sauces, though, so the next time we subbed a half and half mix of cranberry pomegranate juice and balsamic vinegar for the wine. We paired the chard with baked salmon. Delightful.

In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm making it again tonight.

Epic Fail

I have a dry erase board magnetically adhered to the refrigerator. It is the same dry erase board that I had surgically adhered to my graduate assistant "office" (i.e. cubicle) during my stint as a masters student in Literature. Now, instead of witty quotes from professors, classmates, and required reading material for class, it holds the weekly menu, though sometimes I put a quote up there for old time's sake. And nothing quite expresses my weekend kitchen adventures at the moment quite like my trusty dry erase board:

Allow me to explain. Sometimes it's a good kitchen week. Sometimes you walk into that kitchen like you own the thing (even though it's only leased until the summer of 2012). You grab a pot and its like a witch's caldron. In go the ingredients and out pops magic. Sometimes you just get it right on the first try. You don't even bother to measure things out, and somehow, you just know what to do to make a good dish into a great meal. This week was not that week. This week was a bad kitchen week.

Exhibit A:
German cabbagy noodles Friday. This was a recipe idea given to me by a recent graduate of my academic institution. And it's a great recipe idea. Some egg noodle, some cabbage, a little carrot, some vinegar, a little sugar. It should be an easy peasy meal. Brainless even. Unfortunately, this was a bad kitchen week, so I managed to completely screw it up. Instead of going with my gut, I decided to find a recipe with some sort of measurements listed for how much vinegar to use versus how much sugar. I ended up making my "sauce" based on another german dish that was, essentially, noodles and celery.

The problem: cabbage in no way reacts to vinegar and sugar in the way that celery does. Now I know this. Of course, if I would have just made the blasted dish and added a little bit of each at a time until I got the taste right, I never would have needed to learn this lesson. The recipe I came up with looks a little something like--

German Cabbagy Noodles
1/2 bag egg noodles, cooked
3 carrots, shredded
2 c. cabbage, shredded
2 T flour
1/2 c. apple cider vinegar
1/3 c. water
salt and pepper

1. Add flour, vinegar,  water, salt, and pepper to a pan on med heat. Mix thoroughly. Add noodles, carrot, and cabbage.

Of course, I wouldn't make this particular recipe if I were you. I wish I was you because then I would have never had to taste it. It came out far, far too sweet. I tried to douse the sweetness with more flour and water, but to no avail. In a last ditch effort, Art poured in some soy sauce and then he ate it on pumpernickel, claiming the soy sauce made it edible. It wasn't. I will try again, but I'll have to do it for a sole lunch at school. Art has no desire to attempt German Cabbagy Noodles now or in the future.

Exhibit B:
Sunday's dinner was Johnny Cake. No fear, it turned out swell, a little dry perhaps, but swell. This was another type of kitchen calamity entirely. You see, the Johnny Cake is supposed to bake in a 13 x 9 pan, but we used up ours on an actual cake. No worries. I put the Johnny Cake in an oval casserole dish instead. Of course, it took twice as long to cook, being a lot thicker than usual, and after that, the center was still a little jiggly. As a solution to the jiggly, I put the lid on the casserole dish to help keep heat in without drying the Johnny Cake too much. It did work.

Unfortunately, I checked it too soon and the center still wasn't quite done. Like an idiot, I grabbed the lid to put it back on. Then I realized I wasn't using a pot holder. It started to hurt, but I already started lifting it. I couldn't very well drop it. The lid is solid glass. It would have shattered and worse, on my toes, so I had to forgo pain and get the lid back to the stove top, where a pan of veggies was bubbling happily away. Lid safely down, I ran to the sink and stuck my hand under cold water. I was whining and moaning and generally feeling sorry for myself when Art made a sound that was part alarm and part panic. I looked at the stove and there, to my horror, was a wooden spoon on fire.

You see, we have a gas stove. When I dropped the lid, it knocked the stirring spoon for the veggies into the blaze underneath the veggie pan. Art got the fire out quickly, but the spoon will forever hold the marks of my misfortune.

And the Johnny Cake, you ask? That's for next time.

Sweet Potato/Butternut casserole

Like many foods I adore, the sweet potato came to me only as an adult. I never had a holiday meal in which yams were present as a kid. But there's something about this little tuber that I can't deny. Perhaps it is the orange coloration. Perhaps the way it melts on the tongue when combined with butter and cinnamon. Or that it makes one hell of a french fry.


In the midst of December's Devil-may-care month of the Northern American continent, Art discovered a southern food recipe blog with some good ideas. Here was a casserole that required fair amounts of squash and yams, and would you imagine: we have a crap-ton of both, particularly that bushel of squash from the orchard. So Art made it. And it was heavenly. He thought it was a delightful twist to the usual sweetened yams. I thought it was delightfully similar in taste to my beloved pumpkin pie. Even the seven-year-old had to agree: this orangish goop with the crunchy topping, it works. Art made it several more times over the month, and then, in a flash of inspiration--I decided to have a go at it for Christmas dinner at my parent's house.

Praline Butternut Squash and Sweet Potato Casserole
Adjusted from the Kitchen of Deep South Dish 
serves 6
1 butternut squash
3 large sweet potatoes
1/2 cup sugar
Dash allspice
Dash cinnamon
2 tablespoons vanilla
3 eggs, beaten
Approximately 1/2 cup of milk

1/3 cup unsalted butter, melted
1 cup packed light brown sugar
1/3 cup unbleached all purpose or wheat flour
1 cup finely chopped pecans (I beat the heck out of them with a meat tenderizer)
1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees to roast the squash. Slice the butternut squash in half, scoop out the seeds and fibers, and rinse. Place the squash on a cookie sheet covered in tin foil. Rub butter on the fleshy side and cook face-down until you can pierce straight through with a fork, about an hour.


2. Boil water in a large pan. Peel the sweet potatoes. You can quarter them if you have the strength and a very sharp knife but be careful not to cut your thumbs off. In fear of losing an appendage? Just toss them in the water whole. It takes a little longer to cook but you don't have that messy hospital bill to worry about. Boil until fork goes through easily.


3. When you are ready to make the casserole, preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Spray a 2 quart casserole dish with non-stick cooking spray. Scoop the flesh out of the squash with an ice cream scoop and add it and the sweet potatoes into a mixing bowl. Mix until smooth; add in the sugar, allspice, cinnamon, vanilla and eggs. Blend well and add just enough milk to moisten (I don't think we've ever needed the milk). Pour the thick mix into the casserole dish. 


4. Now, on to the praline topping. Melt the butter. While it melts, mix brown sugar, flour and pecans in a small bowl. Pour the butter into the brown sugar mixture and stir. Sprinkle over the top of the casserole. Bake 45 minutes - 1 hour.


Of course, my Christmas version did not taste as good as when Art did it in Cleveland. The reason: the Deep Dish informs readers that the topping ingredients are for a double batch, so I halved everything for the topping. Art did not and I never will again. Even after I added the extra brown sugar to the top, though, it didn't taste quite right. I blame the fact that my mom's casserole dish is deep and round, while ours is shallow and oval. The ratio of topping to veggies just seems better in a shallower dish. Overall, though, a definite keeper. As my son said, "I could have squash every night!" 


How about that.

The sauce! The sauce!

Still, I am horribly behind on recipes. Every time I think I've caught up, there's another card added to the stack. In current events, the boys and I have decided to do cultural food months. November was Mexican month, as Garet will try anything as long as you tell him it's Mexican. You see, he's part Mexican and he's very into genealogical awareness.December was supposed to be Canadian month, but alas, Canada's eat pretty much the same things we do (with the exception of Poutine and Caribou). Thus, December is North American month, so we can experiment with southern dishes, for lack of Caribou. Obviously, not every day will be a culinary experiment in the region of choice, but we try to do it at least one or twice a week. Last month went really well and I have high hopes for this month.

Coincidentally, I am behind enough on the blog that I haven't shared any of November's Mexican masterpieces. Next week marks the beginning of winter break, though. As a matter of fact, today is my last day at the internship, which is a sad yet happy revelation. Soon, I will be allowed the option to sleep in, at least for a little bit. And by sleep in, I mean remain in bed until about 8, when the kid will insist I get up regardless. That being said, I will be trying to submit almost daily contributions to the blog to get it more up to date with what's happening in my kitchen. The excitement is mounting.

Until then, least's go back to the beginning of the recipe stack, to august, when the tomatoes were reading high and red on their vines. In fact, this little recipe goes hand in hand with my eggplant meatball fetish, because what does better with meatballs than a pot of homemade spaghetti sauce. This recipe comes to us from one of my favorite author's, and the very one who brought you the pizza dough I am so fond of using... Barbara Kingsolver, as found in her book "Animal Vegetable Miracle." Here it is, the Kate-ified version.

(pictured here with eggplant parm)

Spaghetti Sauce a la Kingsolver
(This is not a canning recipe)

10c. tomatoes
1 12 oz. can roasted red pepper with garlic (clearanced at Aldi!)
3 small peppers
1 onion
1/4 c. basil
1/8 c. honey
1 T oregano
about 1 T salt
1/2 T thyme
1/2 T garlic powder
1/2 T parsley
1/2t pepper (I used 1/2 cayenne)
1/2 t cinnamon
1/8 t nutmeg

1. Peal tomato skins off. You could find a quick and easy way of doing this, or you could sit there for a very long time stripping raw tomatoes, as I did. If you use closet-ripened tomatoes, as one batch I did was, you may want to add a few canned tomatoes to the mix to achieve a normal looking red hue to the sauce. There's a chance, otherwise, that it will come out orange. Then, put the tomato and the red peppers into a blender and puree.

2. In large pot, cook diced onion and peppers to soft. You could dice the onion yourself, or make your pseudo house husband do it, that is, if you too have one.

3.Add puree tomato/red pepper mix to pot, along with basil, honey, oregano, salt, thyme, garlic powder, parsley, pepper, cinnamon, and nutmeg.

4. Boil and then turn head down to simmer. simmer 2-3 hours, until sauce has reached desired consistency. Freeze in containers if desired.

So here it is, after so much waiting, a delicious homemade sauce that canned sauce can only wish it was. Goes very well with eggplant meatballs.

Anything and chocolate

I'm your standard everyday overachiever. I am one of those people who overschedule, overbook, overkill everything. And as I'm trying to do what good ole Semenza taught me to do in Graduate Study for the 21st Century and work work work harder, longer, and faster than even your professors work, just to prove your chutzpah, I find that I have no time for, well, anything not in some way directly related to schoolwork, including my 20 hour per week internship at the local NPR/PBS station.

The blog has taken a hit and for that I apologize. I still have my index cards. One, in particular, a nice eggplant meatball recipe, I've had Art make again and again for me to take in tupperware and leave in the faculty frig for supper before night class after teaching and doing NPR research all day. It's coming soon and believe me, you're going to love it. In the mean time, Mondays I get home in enough time to eat with my boys. Today, Art made a fun concoction that started out as stir fry before he realized we were out of the usual stir fry veggie standbys.

Instead, he added a bit too much dark chocolate baking cocoa into the rice, adding black beans, a can of tomatoes, a can of mixed veggies, and a can of diced tomatoes (dented and clearanced at Kroger). It was a rather strange color but utterly delicious. I have no photos. I have no recipe. Just my man, a pan, a larder full of canned goods, and a starved, overworked vegetarian in need of both vegetables and protein.

And chocolate, as everyone knows, goes with anything. Magic. Do I have the best guy on the planet or what, ladies? Black beans and chocolate... love if ever I saw it.

Baked stuffed tomatoes and other adventures

A few weeks back, my cousin Kristin came in for a visit. This is how behind I am on blogging. My son was at his dad's for the weekend, so Art and I went online and found a nice fancy restaurant to take her to while she was in town, show her the best that Cleveland has to offer. Originally, I was thinking something in Little Italy. Then, Art found Pier W. It's a seafood place on the West side of town that boasts of a floor-to-ceiling, wall-length window with a view of downtown.

We didn't tell Kristin where we were taking her. Just went, and all of us were blown away. The food was excellent with a wide selection, including an entire vegetarian menu. I had the vegetarian plate, a sample of three popular options of their vegetarian fare. I did not take pictures, as I did not have my camera on me. But if I had, I doubt I'd have stopped eating long enough to snap a photo. Art got the Walleye Tempura, and Kristin ordered some sort of lobster pasta.

The reason I mention this before discussing my tomato-stuffing recipe: Kristin left her leftovers behind when she packed up her cat back in her car and headed for home, and I ate her leftovers on the side, next to these lovely tomatoes. I will say that I'd never had lobster before. I may never have it again, but the pasta was delicious, very rich and very tasty in small portions.

As for the bill, I prefer not to thing about it. Art paid and we're counting it as an early anniversary dinner and celebration over newly gained employment on Art's part, all rolled into one hefty check. Should you go to Pier W, be ready to shell out some cash, but know that the food is superb, the waitstaff is companionable and not at all snobbish, and the atmosphere is one-of-a-kind. Looking out that large window at the twinkling lights of downtown Cleveland was the only time I've ever seen Cleveland look pretty. And that's something.

The following tomato recipe, however, can be made at home with little cost to you, though you will not be able to plate it with Pier W lobster pasta.

Baked Stuffed Tomatoes
(for one- adjusted from Moosewood Simple Suppers)
What you need:
1 large tomato
salt and pepper
1/4 c. grated cheese
1/6 tsp. (eyeball it) dried Italian herbs (oregano, dill, thyme, etc.)

1. Cut the tomato in half and scoop out seeds. This was the part where I got a tad worried. You see, the ripe tomatoes I had on hand from the garden were purple cherokee, which is a rather meaty tomato, not a lot of seeds or seed cavities in which to put the cheese. In an effort to aide this process, I cut a small X in the center of each tomato half.
2. Oil baking dish large enough to hold the tomato halves side by side. (Or just use a tin-foiled cookie sheet). Place halves cut-side up on the tin foil. Sprinkle them with salt and pepper. Admire their dark coloration of red, how it grows lighter in color as it moves its way to the center of the fruit.
3. Put half of the cheese on top of each tomato half. Sprinkle with herbs. Try to get the cheese to fall into the X at the center and the tiny seed pockets at the edges of the extra meaty tomato.
4. Cover with foil and bake for 15 minutes. Uncover and bake until filling is hot and cheese is melted, 5-10 minutes more.

In the end, the baked tomatoes turned out better because they were a meatier tomato. There was more there to bake and thus, to eat. I would recommend you try for the meatiest tomato you can find when undertaking this particular recipe. The results are pleasantly surprising.The tomato itself becomes a bit sweeter from the baking, and the herbs give it that extra kick. Eaten alone, it's a filling, solitary meal. Eaten with Pier W lobster pasta, it's a party.

This one is a definite keeper, though I haven't as yet been able to remake the recipe. The sudden temperature cool-off, followed by a spike in hot weather again has done a number on the tomato plants. They have plenty of fruit on them, but all still green. Perhaps the sudden cool-off again today with help some of those green ones turn red.

Still, for a while there, I was swimming in ripe tomatoes from the purple cherokee plant and the beefsteak plant (Mr. Stripey is still holding out on me.) I started coming up with quick little recipes all my own to use tomatoes up before they spoiled. One such recipe, I remembered to photograph:

Back in the good ole days (two months ago), when IHop sent us weekly buy-1-meal, get-one-free coupons, Art and I often lunched at the International House of Pancakes, east Cleveland branch. Of course, being at the International House of Pancakes, my natural recurring order is none other than... tomato and spinach fake egg omelet. I do so love my pancakes, but I try not to order them from restaurants, as restaurants bring a four-stack of plate-sized pancakes, and I, of course, can't stop myself from stuffed all four down my gullet. Thus, I get omelet.

But IHop has stopped with the freebie coupons for some reason, so we no longer go there. But I can use garden ingredients to make my own, fairly attractive version:

Tomato and Kale Fake-Egg Omelet
What you need
about 1/2 c. fake egg, more or less, depending on the size of omelet you want. 1/2 c equals 2 eggs, roughly.
1 med. beefsteak tomato
about a handful of pre -chopped, -blanched, and -frozen kale
cooking spray

1. Spray small skillet with cooking spray. Measure out 1/2 c. fake egg and add it to the skillet. Set on Med-low heat. When sides stiffen and top begins to set, flip and cook another few minutes. Plate omelet.
2. Spray same skillet. Dice tomato and add it to the skillet, along with the kale. Cook until heated. Transfer to middle of plated omelet.
3. Fold omelet over (with an optional bit of cheese, if desired) and enjoy.

What I learned: Kale tastes even better with a tomato omelet than spinach does.

Open-face Broccoli Melt

I've been hearing a lot of hype about this Cleveland restaurant that's just opened up a branch on the east side. The place is called Melt, and I have never been there. I must admit, I've been intrigued. I've even had people recommend that I go there, but Art put his foot down. I can't help but agree with him. Why pay restaurant prices for grilled cheese?

Instead, having too much broccoli in the frig and not enough time to use it in, I looked to the Moosewood Simple Suppers cookbook for a little hometoasted melt of my own.

Open-face Broccoli Melt
(adjusted from the broccolini cheddar melt)
What you need:
1 large broccoli crown
3 garlic cloves, minced
2 tsp olive oil
salt and pepper
2 slices of whole wheat bread
3 oz. shredded cheese (I used a mix of cheddar-jack)
Dijon or yellow mustard

1. Get out broccoli. Realize half of broccoli is too old to use anymore. Shake your head while tossing an entire large crown into the trash can. It is acceptable to mutter casual obscenities under your breath as you do so. Place remaining broccoli on a cutting board. Chop broccoli into 1/2 in long florets.
2.In skillet on high heat, cook broccoli with garlic in oil for 4-5 minutes. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Add 1/4 c. water to pan and steam broccoli until water evaporates. Remove from heat.
3. As broccoli steams, get out your toaster. Look for your whole wheat bread. Fail to find the bread. Rummage around the kitchen muttering about vanishing bread until you remember you put the last open loaf in the refrigerator, because the last one you left out developed mold. Put one slice in the toaster. Be careful to place it at a low enough time setting so as not to burn it.
4. Congratulate yourself on not burning the toast. Spread mustard on the toast and place on a broiler pan. Top toast with broccoli, then cheese. Broil until cheese melts and is bubbly, 3-5 minutes. Serve hot, open faced.

I must say that over the years, I have grown fond of cheese and broccoli, broccoli and cheese. I haven't been to Melt yet, but that's fine by me. I make a mean melt myself.

Using up my fresh garden veggies

The garden explosion is on. The zucchini have hit a lull, though any minute now, they look like they could just burst forth another brood of offspring. Eggplant are weighing down the eggplant vine to the dirty ground. Tomatoes abound. And the Kale...

My frig is stockpiled and all I can think is: I need some new recipes stat. On google, I typed "tomato and eggplant recipes" into the engine. Lo and behold, I happen upon a bounty of recipes, but one it particular seemed the order of the day.

Whole Wheat Penne w/ Eggplant, Zucchini, Kale, and Tomatoes. It seemed the recipe created specifically for my August garden. 

What you need:

2 T olive oil

onion

2 med eggplants, diced

1 clove garlic, minced

1 tsp. red pepper flakes

1 med. zucchini, diced

1 c. Kale

1 c. tomato (about one large one)

3T parmesan

salt and pepper

2 portions whole wheat penne

1. Boil the pasta.That's easy enough...

2. Heat large skillet over med. heat. Add oil and onion and saute 2 minutes. Not having 2 medium eggplants, dice up an assortment of mini fairytales and another non-globe variety. Realize you didn't cut up enough eggplant. Worry that you are running out of time and the oil is still sizzling. Enlist a kitchen helper (by way of handy cooking pseudo house husband) to help in the dicing. Manage to get all necessary eggplant. Add eggplant, garlic, red pepper flakes, salt. This will make for an oddly pretty mix of light brown with edges of purple ranging from lavender to aubergine and spots of red and dark brown. Cook until eggplant is browned, stirring, 6-8 minutes.

3. Realize you only have a tiny zucchini left from the garden's first zucchini onslaught. Dice it up anyway, aware that your meal will be light on the zucchini. Add zucchini and cook another 2 minutes. Add kale and cook one minute more. Add tomato, freshly plucked.

4. Stir and simmer about 1 to 2 more minutes. Add pasta water as needed so that the pan doesn't get too dry and the vegetables don't stick to the bottom of the pan. Add pasta to skillet. Add parmesan (The recipe originally calls for goat cheese. Who just keeps goat cheese lying around the refrigerator anyway?). Toss. Serve in bowls with an extra sprinkle of shredded cheese if desired.

The end result was very picture worthy, but very bland. I'm sure a few more spices could give it that needed pick-me-up. In my case, I hadn't had a lot of protein that day anyway, so I cooked up some fake sausage, cut it up, and added it to my bowl. Then there was plenty of spice to go around.

 

Even with the additions, I'm not sure I'd make this one again. There are so many great recipes out there to waste a re-do on mediocrity. Even so, I suppose it is a handy way to use the fresh veggies from the garden and that stockpile of pasta noodles we have in the pantry. I might just Kate-ify this one yet. I'll keep you posted.

Baked "Fried" Green Tomatoes (with accompanying omelet)

So, it happened. Finally, I get those first red tomatoes, those bright, shiny fire-engine beauties I've been waiting for since I shelled out the two-bucks-a-pop for tomato cages this spring. I recall clearly walking briskly back and forth between the tomato tables at the greenhouse (partly from excitement and partly because I had a cup of tea right before I left the apartment and I really had to pee). I read those little cards about each variety of plant, absent-mindedly stroking each tiny leaf. This one has low acidity. That one will be yellow with pink stripes. These over here, they bloom early.

The early-bloomers started to turn a few weeks ago, and I picked one early and watched it turn full-on purple-red on my mother's kitchen window ledge. The rest were a while in coming though. Admittedly, the events that are about to be described happened last week. In my tumult of over-booked activity, I have accrued a large stack of recipes next to the computer, taunting me with their unblogged-about smugness.

We were at the garden, a small plot at the far right corner of an episcopal churchyard. I was weeding. Art was watering. Garet, due to some strange juvenile need to be squirrelly, was planting a pine cone happily into the dirt beside a copse of coniferous trees... or at least, he called it a pine cone. That's when I spotted it: the first red Beefsteak. Eagerly, one-handed, I plucked the tender fruit from its vine and snap, the two adjacent green tomatoes beside it came too. I held them up mournfully to Art, and then, in a sudden spark of genius, I announced, "I could make fried green tomatoes."

Fried Green Tomatoes. It's a movie title I know well. In my youth, I was blessed with very overprotective parents who did not allow the viewing of movies until you had reached the age deemed appropriate for viewing by whatever lunatic organization that rates movies. My siblings and I contented ourselves with the meager movie options by repeatedly watching beloved movies over and over again. When my brother watched Forest Gump three times a day, I must admit, I grew tired of it, but I never lost my love, ever, for Fried Green Tomatoes. Perhaps it was the cultural significance. Perhaps it was the underlying lesbian implications. I like to think it was the food.

I never so much as tasted a fried green tomato before, but watching them sizzling in the diner pans of the Whistle Stop Cafe made me pine for them. Now, I had my chance. I googled, and found this site, run by a follow Michigander Katie, for nonfried green tomatoes. Here, I could fry my tomatoes and bake them too!

Baked Fried Green Tomatoes

What you need:

2/3 c bread crumbs

1 T Grated Parmesan Cheese

1 tsp cayenne pepper

1 T cumin

1/2 tsp salt

2 eggs, beaten (or the egg beaters equivalent)

2 green tomatoes

The logic of this is similar to what you do to bread the eggplant in this recipe.

1. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Put the bread crumbs, parmesan, cayenne, cumin, and salt in one bowl. Mix. Put the egg in a second bowl.

2. Cut up the green tomatoes into thin, round slices.

3. Submerge a slice of tomato into the egg. Then, press both sides, alternately, into the bread crumb mixture for a light coat. Recoat in egg. Then, recoat both sides of slice in bread crumbs. Place slice on a tin-foiled baking sheet.

4. Cont. the same process for each tomato slice until all are coated and on the cookie sheet. Place the cookie sheet in the oven for 20 minutes. Flip the slices and return them to the oven for another 10-20 minutes. Serve.

As an added bonus, the leftover egg makes a lovely omelet, if cooked in a small skillet on low heat. Add an optional slice of cheese, if desired.

These nonfried beauties have opened my midwestern eyes to the possibilities of southern cooking. Each breaded slice resulted in a taste combination that was both complex and enjoyable. The tomato was tangy with a bittersweet edge to it that was nicely complimented by the earthly taste of cumin and the subtle fiery finish of the cayenne. I'm usually not a fan of a lot of heat in my food but it was just spicy enough. Luckily for me, if my weak taste buds became too overburdened with heat, I had a nice egg and cheese palette-cleanser right there on my plate.

Sweet Sea Bass and Vegetables en Papillote (and Chips of course)

Art decided to purchase some sea bass on sale cheap at Giant Eagle at exactly the same time that I grew curious about the sea bass en papillote recipe in the French Women Don't Get Fat Cookbook. Of course, as is often the case, the recipe in the cookbook was not exactly what I wanted. (Who the hell keeps star anise in their larder anyway?) But the method for cooking the fish stuck with me. It seemed so... easy and healthy at the same time. And fairly cheap (star anise aside).

So I googled. And I googled. And finally I came across the perfect site for creating your own fish en papillote recipe. It's a blog called "Cooking with Alison," and Alison, whoever you may be, I salute you.

Now, I'm not sure if I've covered this particular fishy subject in my blog thus far, but if I haven't, I will say it now: this vegetarian sometimes eats sea food. And by sea food, I mean fish or, in restaurants, calamari. The reason for this: my vegetarianism is based strictly upon my need to eat what makes me feel healthy that I can afford. I cannot afford pasture-raised organic bison. I can afford eco-friendly fish. I try to keep up on the seafood watch list, and I can assure you that white seabass is currently a best choice in their book... or pocket guide, as the case may be.

Either way, fish oil is just plain good for you. And fish is fine in moderation, just like margaritas.

So on with my fish exploration: en papillote is a style of cooking in which you place the fish is parchment paper with a variety of vegetables and herbs and pop it in the oven. Inside the paper, the fish steams itself, along with the vegetables and in no time, you have a very healthy meal in it's own carrying case.

Of course, if you have no parchment paper, tin foil is also quite functional, though less pretty:

Because this is a fish dinner, I felt it needed some chips. I always bake, rather than fry my potatoes, so start the oven early, at 400. Cut up a few potatoes into rounds, place on a baking sheet, and salt. Put in the oven for about 10 minutes.

At the 10 minute mark, take the chips out and flip them, upping the oven to 425 for the fish. The fish will cook for 20 minutes, but the chips, when placed back in with the fish for the rest of their cooking time, should need only about another 10-15 minutes.

Sweet Sea Bass and Vegetables en Papillote
(serves 2)
What you need:
1 whole sea bass, minus head and tail and sliced into two equal pieces
1 med. zucchini, cut into matchsticks
1 red bell pepper, sliced and quartered
salt and pepper
Olive oil
2 T Strawberry Balsamic Vinegar
Pinch ginger, cinnamon, paprika, Italian seasoning, seafood seasoning

1. Preheat oven for 425 On two large squares of tinfoil, place the zucchini and pepper equally into the middle of each square. salt and pepper lightly.
2. Salt and pepper both sides of fish. Place on top of veggies.
3. Drizzle 1 T of the vinegar on each piece of fish. The sprinkle with each of the seasonings. Drizzle a little olive oil on top of each and the fold the tinfoil into packets.
4. Place the packets on a baking sheet and put in the oven for about 20 minutes. Fish should be cooked through before eating.

The resulting meal is sweet and savory. The chips, a needed compliment to fish, add a necessary light and crispy side. The fish, dusted with sweet spices and steamed with strawberry-flavored vinegar, is light and slightly tangy without any of that "fishy" taste that I really dislike. But the vegetables, by far, steal the show. Having been essentially marinated in the strawberry-cinnamon mix as the liquid pooled in the bottom of the tinfoil, they are sweet and flavorful with a hint of cinnamon and ginger, a fleck here and there of oregano, rosemary, and basil. Easily some of the best but lightly zucchini I have ever made. And plan to make again.

Sweet quinoa and easy eggplant parm

I have been interested lately in quinoa. I kept seeing this ancient Americas grain in various recipes and cookbooks, so I got to thinking... perhaps I should try it. Eating quinoa, particularly for a vegetarian, has its upsides.
1. Quinoa has the most protein of all the grains.
2. It is the only grain that is considered a complete protein.
3. It's relatively easy to cook.
4. It tastes pretty good too.
So the next time I was in that area, I stopped in at the world market. I had been on the hunt, unsuccessfully, for quinoa at my local grocer, but alas, it has not the popularity of say, rice or barley or even couscous. Usually I find the world market a bit overpriced for just about everything, but quinoa priced at about what a bag of long-grian brown rice would.

In the bag, it looks a lot like couscous, small and pellet-shaped, but with an imperfection to its circularity, as though it had been somehow dented and worn by the elements. Once cooked, however, it looks quite different from couscous and oddly, a bit like maltomeal, except that off each single piece of grain, a small tail protrudes like a tiny white worm. They call this "sprouted" quinoa, if I recall correctly.

With this quinoa, plus a little help from my freshly grown eggplant, I would make a fabulous dinner. The entree: eggplant parm, the lazy version, adjusted from a recipe created by Mario Batali. The side dish: quinoa with almonds, hazelnuts, and apricots, brought to you by the French Women Don't Get Fat Cookbook.

The eggplant takes longer to cook than the quinoa, so it gets put in first.

Eggplant Parm (easy version)
What you need:
3 very small, couldn't-wait-any-longer-to-pick-one-from-the garden eggplants
1 half jar of pasta sauce
a few cups of shredded cheese
grated parmesan cheese
Italian-style bread crumbs

1. Preheat oven to 450. Cut the top and bottom off the eggplants and then slice them length-wise into about three or four equal slices. 
2. In a small, rectangular casserole dish, arrange the first four slices to fill the bottom of the pan. Layer with half of sauce, then shredded and parmesan cheese to cover. Then add the second layer of eggplant slices. Top with remaining sauce. Then, cheeses to cover, and finally, coat the top in bread crumbs.
3. Cover and bake about 45 minutes.

Thirty minutes into the eggplant baking time, start the quinoa. It takes 15 minutes to cook, with a 1 c. quinoa to 2 c. water ratio.

Quinoa with Almonds, hazelnuts, and apricots
(or if you have no hazelnuts: Quinoa with almonds, more almonds, and apricots)
What you need:
1 c. cooked quinoa
2 T honey
1 T lemon juice
1 t butter
1/3 c. milk
pinch salt
2 T finely chopped almonds (or 1 T almonds and 1 T hazelnuts)
1/4 c. dried apricots, diced

1. Stir honey, lemon juice, butter, milk, and salt into quinoa and cook another minute.
2. Serve in individual bowls garnished with chopped nuts and apricots or, like I did, just stir the nuts and fruit into the pan with all of the quinoa and scoop it onto your plate as needed.

By itself, the quinoa tasted fairly nutty but also very very sweet. I affectionately deemed it "candied grain." Add a slice of almond and some apricot to the bite and it was an explosion of deliciousness that felt more like dessert than a healthy way of getting grain, protein, and fruit simultaneously into my diet. Not that I'm complaining. I do so love my dessert.

Then, add in the tomato-sauce-coated, soft-and-succulent eggplant to the mix. The 45 minutes of mixing flavors with the sauce and the cheese only benefits the eggplant, which has a fall-apart on your fork tenderness that had me unable to wait until it cooled down to a proper temperature before digging in. I think it helped that it was young eggplant rather than the larger, heartier aged eggplant.

A four-star meal, overall. And the tomato paired well with the honey-nut fruity grain beside it. A little bit sweet, a little bit acidic, this meal left me licking my plate clean and then searching for leftovers.

A gardening start

The first zucchini has arrived.

Green tomato have engulfed the purple cherokee plant.

There are pickle-sized cucumbers and tiny peppers.

The harvesting season has officially begun.

Alas, I have not had much time for gardening or blogging, as last week was the Imagination Writers Conference at Cleveland State. I spent the week running about to various workshops and craft talks, interspersed with some more running about, as I have decided to take a summer adjuncting job. Classes started last week.

To make sure I had food to take with me, I had Art use the first of the zucchini to make a dish we invented last year, upon a plethora of zucchini. What it really is: zucchini and rice. What we call it so that Garet will eat it: Cheesy Rice. What I refer to it when the kid isn't involved: Stuff.

Cheesy Rice Zucchini Stuff
what you need:
three med. zucchini, shredded
two carrots, shredded
one red bell pepper, diced
2 c. of uncooked brown rice (or 4 c. of cooked brown rice)
about 1 c. of random spaghetti sauce (any tomato sauce will work)
1/2 square bakers chocolate
1 small can sliced mushroom
i can black beans (with liquid)
1 small can diced tomato (with liquid)
1 c. shredded cheese
ketchup and BBQ sauce

1. Cook uncooked rice. I use a rice cooker, because it's easy.
2. Put zucchini, carrot, pepper, rice, sauce, chocolate, mushroom, beans, and tomato in a pot on med heat. Add ketchup and BBQ sauce to taste. Cook on med to high heat until liquid is reduced to your liking.
3. Stir in cheese and serve.

We got the idea for this odd concoction, because, given the large zucchini my mom kept giving to us last summer, we wanted to try out stuffed zucchini. But I didn't want to use breadcrumbs, so I used rice instead. And slowly, the ingredients list veered off course from Italian to Mexican. Mostly because black beans are my favorite. And we were in the mood for chili.

The "cheesy rice" turned out quite tasty and I took a large container in to leave in the faculty lounge frig. However, I only ended up eating it one day. I was too busy eating out with my fellow MFA students, sampling a different cuisine each day. But the stuff still came in handy when we drove home to Michigan for the weekend. Mom never keeps vegetarian options in the house, so the rice got eaten up quite quickly.

Blendy Fun

In the heat of this summer, my blender has been getting a lot of use. For starters, rather than hot coffee or tea, I've been alternating between ice water with a mint green tea bag in it and my own recipe for a mocha frappe.

Mocha frappe
(for a nonMocha frappe, I'd imagine you'd just neglect to put in the chocolate)
1/3 c double strength coffee, cold
1 1/2 T raw sugar
1/2 c vanilla soy milk
1 c ice
1T chocolate syrup

Stuff in a blender and hit frappe.

Come to think of it, I could probably figure out a tasty mint green tea frappe if I thought hard enough.

But the frappe was an afterthought really. Because recently, the blender has already been dirty, as I have given my first "French Women Don't Get Fat" recipe, Magical Breakfast Cream, or MBC. If you'd like to try MBC. It's a mixture of plain yogurt, ground cereal, and nuts, among other things. The problem I rediscovered while making MBC: I really don't like dairy in its pure form. I've never liked plain milk and I'm not a big fan of sour cream. Moreover, I hate the taste of plain yogurt. It's so... dairy tasting. This was a taste that MBC failed to mask, so, as I'm often prone to doing, rather than can the recipe as a waste, I Kate-ified it.

And what resulted, while being very close to the original recipe, switches out citrus for strawberry, making it a tasty strawberries and cream concoction I can get behind. Moreover, with the almonds and oats added to the mix, the resulting taste has a touch of what I can only describe as "Almond Cookie" or "Bearclaw" tasting. And if there's one desert I love as much as strawberry shortcake, it's almond-anything.

Almond-Cookie Strawberry Breakfast Smoothie
 2T oats
2 t sliced raw almonds
1/2 c. plain greek yogurt
1 t flaxseed oil
2 T Berry-variety 100% juice (I had Pomegranate-Blueberry V8 fusion on hand)
1 t 100% maple syrup
1 t honey
4 frozen strawberries (if using fresh, add ice)

1. Put oats and almonds in blender. Grind to powder.

2. Add yogurt, juice, syrup, honey, and strawberries. Puree.

3. Drink and be amazed at the undercurrents of cookie pleasure... without the cookie. Not only that but it's really healthy.

Minestrone

I have my first full blown zucchini blossoms at the garden and a number of small green tomatoes. While visiting the community garden where our small plot is located, we happened upon a woman with a hose who announced that when she comes to take care of her garden, she waters all of the gardens and this usually happens every other day. Now, on the one hand, it's very nice of her to do this. On the other, I feel a bit put off by it. I mean, this is my garden and I'm not sure I appreciate her 1. Infringing on the gardens of others. and 2. Not finding a way to announce her helpfulness to the rest of us, who have been watering our gardens on top of her every other day waterings. I'm curious, is this a valid upset to have? I couldn't decide if it would be rude and ungrateful to ask her not to water my garden, but at the same time, this is my garden. Thoughts?

Either way, the time of harvest draws near. But as I continue to wait, here is the first of many recipes to come featuring zucchini. I made Minestrone on thursday night and have been eating its leftovers ever since. I can't remember where I found this recipe now but it has its flaws and each time I make it, I have to find ways of correcting, however, it makes a very flavorful Minestrone, albeit more of a stew than soup when all's said and done, but then, my man isn't a soup fan anyway.

Minestrone

4 c. veggie broth
4 c. tomato, diced
1 T basil
1/2 t oregano
2 carrots, chopped
2 stalks celery, chopped
1/2 onion, chopped
3 small zucchini, chopped
1 c green beans, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 bay leaf
salt and pepper to taste
1 c macaroni (or other small pasta)
2 potatoes, diced
1 small can cannellini beans
1 small can kidney beans

1. Cook pasta as directed, drain and set aside. In an advanced effort to get my six-year-old to eat the Minestrone, I allowed him to pick any noodle he wanted in the Italian aisle at Giant Eagle. He opted for wagon wheels.

2. In large pot, combine all ingredients except pasta. Bring to boil and boil about half an hour, covered. Reduce to low and simmer for at least one hour, or until veggies are tender. This is one of the fixes I make to this recipe which only simmers the soup and at the end, none of the veggies are cooked all the way unless you leave it on the stove all day long. Instead, I had the half hour or so boil. Due to this, if the liquid gets too low, add water to the pot to fit your desired level of soupiness. I usually don't add much and let it be more of a stew.

3. Add pasta and bring back to a simmer. Cook for about 20 minutes to give pasta time to develop to flavors of the pot. Fish out the bay leaf and serve, sprinkled with grated cheese if you wish. I often do.

I'll continue to search for the perfect Minestrone recipe that is also uncomplicated, but until I find it, this one is pretty tasty and best of all, quick. Plus, during a hot summer week like this, it's nice to have a meal made before the heat wave that leaves behind enough leftovers to last through several nights of microwave reheating. The less added heat in this unair-conditioned apartment, the better.

Broccoli Review

For the summer months in my apartment, we have given Wednesday nights to my six-year-old. (I'm sorry, six AND A HALF year old.) He too was raised the chicken and potato way via my mother. You see, for the second three years of his life (and probably the most impressionable food-wise), we lived with my mother. I was divorced from the evil ex husband and going to graduate school and my parental units were kind enough to grant me two rooms in their household whilst I bettered my mind via Literature MA.

The downside to this: he ate the same foods I grew up on. Usually, my classes forced me to eat a separate meal from the family and Garet ate with everyone else. So I had falafel at Phoenicas (Greek food on campus) and he ate mashed potatoes and ham. Or mashed potatoes and chicken. Or french fries and chicken strips.  For the past year, I have been trying to broaden his culinary horizons, but on Wednesdays, he gets a break and usually picks hot dogs and boxed mac n cheese. Of course, this leaves little for the vegetarian to eat, so the vegetarian makes her own side-dish for the family that also acts as her main course. In this case, I made baked broccoli with a side of sauted mushroom for protein.

I got the recipe here at the Amateur Gourmet blog, who, in turn, got the recipe from the Barefoot Contessa.It's broccoli, parmesan, salt, basil, and lots of olive oil baked on a cookie sheet for about 20 minutes. I've taken to following the Amateur Gourmet blog only recently, but I have fun with his voice and honesty (read his latest on one cup coffee makers). Plus, I'm an avid broccoli fan and when I read about his recipe, I had to try it.

My first mistake was probably not measuring out the broccoli. I just cut up what I had and tossed it on the cookie sheet. I thought it seemed like less than the amount called for so I eye-balled the ingredients, lessening each by a bit, but I don't think it was enough.

Don't get me wrong. The broccoli was tasty. Art loved it and Garet would have if he had been willing to try it. But I found it personally a bit overpowering and salty. Something to bear in mind for future use, but overall, if you are less of a broccoli fan but want to incorporate more into your diet, the Amateur Gourmet won't steer you wrong on this one.

Small Indulgences

This vegetarian has a sweet tooth. And despite her lack of cavities, it is a very big sweet tooth. So, in order for her to have any lasting happiness, it must be sated. If it is not, the result is a very frantic me in search of any sort of sugary something to stuff down my gullet. Hostess, fruit snacks, cakes, cookies... nothing escapes my ravenous wrath. So, I go for moderation.

Yesterday, I found a cookbook in the new section of the library: "The French Women Don't Get Fat Cookbook." In this book, the madame authoress, though not condemning dessert, urged her reader (aka, me) that sometimes a good fruit should do for dessert, but that has never been the case for me. I love fruit, and it can be a meal all its own, but on its own, it can never be dessert. What can be dessert on its own is chocolate.

So here are a few recent chocolate finds to share with my as-yet lackluster readership. First and foremost is a read-worthy book I found in the clearance bin at Borders, "The Chocolate Connoissear," that really opened my eyes to the worth-while nature of a good chocolate. The authoress is a top expert on chocolate and she made the experience of eating good chocolate akin to a wine tasting. I decided I had to find some of what she would deem at least suitable chocolate to try out and see what the fuss was all about (I say suitable because good chocolate is expensive and I'm on a budget.) Well, that sort of chocolate is not easy to find. I'm not even talking Godiva or Lindt good. They don't make the cut.

To sum up a book's worth, there are three varieties of cocoa trees. The bottom rung, most hardy and least flavorful, is called forastero. That's what all the chocolate the average person eats, candy made from big batches of over-cooked and under-produced beans. That's why 90% Lindt has such a burnt after taste. It's made from burnt beans. The best tree is the criollo. This is the ancestor breed that was around back in the days of yore when Aztecs introduced the stuff to Spain. It is very flavorful but also fragile and for a very long time, was on the brink of extinction. The third variety is trinitario. This is a happy medium species that has a decent flavor and decent hardiness and is a splice created from mating criollo with the hardier forastero. "Good chocolate" bars will have perhaps a percentage on the front, but more importantly, the beans used to make the chocolate and a country or even plantation of origin, as well as tasting notes, as one would find on a wine bottle. You see, good chocolate has a unique flavor to it, unlike the sameness of your everyday Hersey bar.

I searched and searched for my illusive chocolate. And finally, I found some in Meijer of all places, in the greeting card section by the Whitman samplers. The brand is Cachet  limited edition and the bars are around $3 a pop. As a dark chocolate fan, I scored the 71% Costa Rica Bar, made with trinitario, if I recall, and the 64% Peru bar, made with criollo and trinitario. My boyfriend, a milk chocolate fan, scored the 32% Madagascar bar made with criollo, trinitario, and forastero. The tasting couldn't have been more of a shock to me. The dark chocolate was so smooth, it had all the toothiness of a milk chocolate  but the glorious taste of a dark. The milk chocolate was the milkiest chocolate I've ever tasted. It had the bitter taint of cocoa but over that was a sweet, sugary but very cream-filled milk chocolate taste that bordered on buttery with a clear hint of vanilla as an aftertaste. The tasting notes on the back of the bar, which I checked after tasting, were spot on. The Peru bar was surprisingly light for a dark chocolate, with a berry-ish hint to it and shock of shocks, no burnt aftertaste, just the delicate bitterness of cocoa.

The Costa Rica bar was very earthy tasting, definitely lacking some of the lightness of the Peru bar. When the choco-expert explained of mushroom tasting notes for chocolate, I didn't understand what that might possibly mean until I savored this bar. It was a hint of mushroom in the best way possible. I even took my 71% find, along with a dark Godiva bar, to my cousin, dear friend, and long-time Godiva fiend, Kristin, who tasted a square of each and announced herself a convert. An extra dark chocolate without the burnt aftertaste? Well worth the extra buck-fifty.


My other recent chocolate find is not a new one. Way back when I first discovered "Skinny Bitch," I made myself their recipe for hot chocolate. It turned out a bit too bitter with clumps of the cocoa powder all over. Less-than-fantastic. Tonight, I was in the mood for a little treat but a warm one, as there's been this oddly cold breeze all day that's put a chill in me I haven't been able to lose. I opened my recipe box and found the old Skinny Bitch cocoa recipe, decided to give it one last go. As you may recall, Art made me a from-scratch extra-dark chocolate cake for my birthday, so the only unsweetened cocoa powder in the apartment is Hersey's special dark, and the idea of special dark cocoa appealed to my inner dark chocolate fan. So I got out a small saucepan and got to work.

Hot Cocoa the Skinny Bitch Way (The Kate Version)
3/4 c. soy milk
1/4 c. water
2 T unsweetened cocoa
2 T sugar in the raw
1/8 t. vanilla extract
dash of cinnamon

Heat soymilk and water in saucepan. Add cocoa, sugar, and vanilla to pan. Stir until smooth. Transfer to cocoa mug. Sprinkle cinnamon and drink.

The dark dark cocoa was delightful. The powder dissolved just fine, making me wonder what I screwed up before. It was bitter but also very sweet with that hint of cinnamon that just made all the other flavors pop that much more. If I had a bad thing to say about the recipe now, it used too much sugar. Next time, I'll try half the sugar and add to taste. I drank half slowly and soothingly at the dinner table. Then, I reserved the other half for tomorrow. With it's oversweetness, I think it would be the perfect addition to a nice dark roast coffee for a morning pick-me-up.

On a related note, my favorite and only nephew turned one yesterday. His birthday party was on Saturday, though, a pool party with buffet. I brought the veggie platter and the dirt. Dirt was always one of my childhood favorites and to this day, is one of the most pleasurable of dessert comfort foods. Growing up, my Aunt Sharon always brought dirt to the family functions, and we kids gobbled it up. At one point, her and her daughter even invited me and my sister over to learn the much-guarded secret recipe. Her dirt recipe is still the one I use today. It is far superior to any other recipe I've found, but it's also something I don't have the right to broadcast to the internet. Here is an internet recipe for dirt I'm sure is very tasty, however, if you're curious to try it. Of course, I don't use the fake flowers or flower pot, though that is a cute idea, and I freeze mine, not refrigerate it. Other people add gummy worms to the top. Dirt, essentially is a frozen pudding cake with crushed oreos that resembles dirt. Other ideas include using peanut butter pudding and chocolate/pb cookies for mud and butterscotch pudding with pecan sandies for sand.

The dirt, as always, was a big hit, but I had my own little secret ingredients I added to Aunt Sharon's version. My sister had recently been battling high cholesterol, and, so she could partake of the dirt and so it would be a little better in general (dirt is not a health food), I used the fat-free/light versions of all the ingredients: reduced fat oreos, light butter, fat free cool whip, fat free cream cheese, etc. I did not use sugar free pudding, as sugar free pudding has a decidedly different taste to it from normal. That and really, those no-cal sweeteners are probably worse for you than normal sugar, unless you are diabetic. Everyone had a little bit, so no one had too much and no one noticed that the dirt was "lighter" than usual. Tips to know and tell.

Green Bean/White Bean Casserole

During the fall semester, I uncovered an interesting book from my local library. It's called "Vegetarian SlowCooker." And in it were a great number of magical recipes to use in that kitchen appliance that I, of late, have little to no use for. Needless to say, some of them looked so yummy, it prompted me to plop one of the black friday sale price 20 dollar slow cookers into my mother's Kohl's stroller-cart and say, "I want this for Christmas!"

Then, as is wont to happen in stories of this nature, I took my new kitchen appliance home, stuck it happily into an empty cupboard, and forgot about it. When the book came up for renewal for the fifth time, I copied those recipes I'd been eyeing onto 3x5 index cards, stuck them into my recipe card organizer, and returned the book.

This would have been the end of it had I not gone through my recipes two days before my birthday, struggling to find something tasty and adventurous to make for my year-over-a-quarter-of-a-century birthday. I opted, as some might recall, on a Cook's encyclopedia recipe for souffle, but among my forgotten trove of recipes, my eye caught a black bean chili, a soup with kale, slow cooker veggie pot pie, and the most exciting of all... green bean casserole!

I know what you're thinking... "That's it? That's the thing she was so excited to make?" But green bean casserole is one of my favorites. It's comfort food. It's homey and inviting. It was one of the first things I ever learned to make. And I never screwed it up. One can campbell's cream of mushroom to two cans french-cut green beans in a casserole dish and then heated in the microwave for 7 minutes and TA DA! a scrumptious meal. And it sure beat my first attempt at tuna and noodles, when, after many boxed pasta roni meals, it didn't occur to me that I might need to drain the noodles and it didn't occur to my mom, when she gave me the instructions for making it, that anyone would not know that noodles need to be drained. What resulted looked more like soup than casserole but green beans, they have never led me astray.

I've come a long way since then, but I still love my green bean casserole. And I was immediate anxious to give this recipe a go (not to mention break in that forgotten slow cooker), a green bean casserole that uses a white bean and mushroom sauce in place of the standard can of cream of mushroom.

Green Bean and White Bean Casserole
(from Vegetarian Slow Cooker)

What you need:
1 T olive oil
1 small yellow onion, chopped
1 c. chopped white mushrooms
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 15.5 oz can white beans, drained and rinsed (These puppies were not easy to come by but I finally found some Goya brand ones. Post-cooking thought: Great Northern Beans would work just as well... many even navy beans)
1 c water
salt and pepper (be generous with the salt)
1 1/2 lbs green beans, cut into one-in pieces (I translated this into 2 cans of no-sodium french cut green beans, drained)
1/2 c sliced almonds, toasted in skillet to light golden

1. Heat oil in large skillet over med-heat, add onion, cover, and cook to soft, 5 min. Transfer onion to blender. In skillet, add mushroom and garlic. stir to soft over med-high heat, 3 minutes. The stirring is very important, and if you get bored, use a long wooden spoon with which to bang about to skillet as you stir, creating a tune akin in sound to a steel drum player. Entertainment. Set aside mushrooms.)

2. Add white beans and water to blender, season with salt and pepper, and process to smooth. I used the "cream" button. It seemed very cream of mushroom soup to use the "cream" button. The blender will whir and spin and in seconds, sauce, liquid-y and looking very much like the tahini sauce I made on Monday for falafel. But I digress.

3. Place green beans and mushrooms in 4 QT (bigger is fine, just not smaller) slow cooker and pour white bean sauce over them. Cover and cook on Low 4-6 hours.

4. When ready to serve, sprinkle beans with almonds.

It was a surprisingly quick-prep and easy to follow, but a little bland (hence liberal salt and pepper). I think next time, I would cook up twice the number of mushrooms and puree half of them with the white beans, for a bit more flavor. I'm also going to think for a while on what seasonings would mix well with the beans. Suggestions would be appreciated. It was something I'd make again but with a few alterations, my own bit of flare. The almonds, I'd say, are a must, however. They add a nice nutty flavor to add a bit of pep to the blandness, along with a bit of crunch to the mush that is green bean casserole.

Note: Despite my recent addition of pictures to accompany blog posts, this one is lacking a picture.  This is not due to technical malfunction, but merely a realization on the blogger's part that there is no way to attractively photograph green bean casserole. Just picture any green bean casserole and top it with sliced almonds in your mind's eye. Now, put it in a slow cooker. That's about it.